#21 Dressage virginity: lost

Today was our first ever pure dressage competition. Previously, we’ve done three dressage tests ever in our lives, but always part of a mini ODE or Arena Event. It was only a local, unaffiliated Prelim – but it still had me questioning why we do this to ourselves… it seems to me that competing with your horse is only 10% fun, and 90% a rather costly way to sh*t yourself.

Allowing for the fact it’s been a full year since we went anywhere (with the exception of a show a 15 minute hack away in the summer), the stress levels were running high. I was so organised originally: we’d been practising and improving with both our lessons and ‘Project Relax’. I spent yesterday schooling, tack cleaning and boot polishing in my bathtub (tack only – I did not get in with it) and running white saddle pads through the washing machine when my husband wasn’t looking.

My stuff was packed. I even wrote myself a little itinerary for the morning.

Then, the alarm went off as planned at 6am. I hadn’t slept well, having ridden approximately 110 dressage tests throughout the night instead of resting, so the snooze button was inevitably tapped a good three times. This didn’t matter too much though. I know myself well enough at 34 to expect that emerging from a warm cosy bed on the first alarm when it’s cold, blowing a gale outside and I’m, well… scared, is highly unlikely.

So I left, all ready, and got to the yard at a reasonable time to get mucked out while Flora had a roll in the pen. Then, I set about grooming and plaiting.

Flora isn’t the most cuddly of horses, but she chose today to continuously nuzzle my neck and ears and stick her face in mine. She either quite enjoyed her stretching session (as advised by the physio) or she could sense I was feeling a bit fragile. Or, there was a cunning plan to delay me and put an end to our day out. Less dramatic than throwing herself on a concrete floor like last summer, but still, a ploy.

My friend Eli (pronounced Ellie) was joining us and was feeling equally frazzled. Not only was she taking our friend’s baby cob to her first outing (ever, ever, ever), but it seems we are both equally crap at plaiting. To be fair, Eli had a lot more mane to deal with than I did and, in the end, I agreed with her that it looked like someone with hooves for hands had done it, so hers were brushed out, while my uneven, lumpy attempts were left in after a bit of neatening up from Flora’s boyfriend’s owner (thank you, Laura!).

Thankfully, Alice turned up to help out. Alice is 5/6 years younger than me but I’m fairly sure she feels like my mother on days like this. As well as being on another planet generally, my Catastrophe Numero Uno was realising that my spanking clean girth was still on my washing line. Spares were grabbed and we loaded up into a lovely man called Graham’s 3.5 tonne van conversion. It was a more confined travelling space than Flora is used to and she was a bit goggle-eyed and blowy as we closed the partition. It made me think about how trusting they are. To be shut in a little metal tube like that and believe us when we say ‘It’s alright, good girl/boy.’ She was an excellent role model for little 4 year old Rose though, who was in on only the second attempt, and who travelled very well alongside Flora on the 10 minute journey to the venue.

After unloading, tacking up (and having to borrow a girth after both spares proved too small), we set about warming up. The support team was in full force: Alice, Jenny, Maggie, Marie and Eli’s poor boyfriend Pete, who can only have been bored rigid and freezing for an hour – I had spared my husband in advance.

The first thing I noticed in the warm up was someone cantering round performing flying changes. It did cross my mind that you would only be warming up during the Intro class if you were doing the Prelim. It then also crossed my mind that it’s somewhat unfair that horses dancing around doing flying changes should even be IN a Prelim. But then, the fog of Almost-Time-To-Go-In descended upon my brain and I can’t recall even seeing this combination again, let alone registering whether we were up against a Valegro-standard horse in a class meant for basic dressage. I do hope they had a good day out though. In the Novice or Elementary.

Flora warmed up really nicely. I remembered everything my teacher had told me recently and I actually began to enjoy myself and feel A-OK. When my name was called and we went in, Flora immediately tensed up. The indoor arena was a whole different ball game to her, but, as always, she did a half-decent job of concealing it.

And I did an equally decent job of concealing Catastrophe Numero Dos: a complete brain shutdown. I actually whispered out loud, “I’ve forgotten my test” as I passed our friends, and visions of Alice breaking my nose scuttled through my mind. Thankfully, I kept trotting and as I reached letter A again, it suddenly came back to me. There is nothing quite like the centreline for temporary amnesia and suddenly wanting your Mum..

Frustratingly, after all the efforts with relaxation and technique of late, the mind blank did throw me. I reverted to riding how I used to ride before my recent epiphanies: not forward enough; lower leg sneaking back, tipping forwards, hands dropping. The result of which was Flora going how she always used to too.

I’m being very ‘glass-half-empty’ here though. The moments when she was going well today far outweighed the moments when she wasn’t, and for our first time out in an age, she behaved impeccably. I was so pleased and relieved when it was all over, that I forgot the third thing of the day – my feedback sheet. And so it wasn’t until late this afternoon that I learned we made the placings and won a shiny purple rosette; 6^th place in a class of 15. I know we could have done better had my nerves not shut down my brain, but all things considered, I was very happy. The judge’s comment said it all: “A lovely little horse with correct paces. When settled, she will produce a lovely test.”

Good ponies all round, both were stuffed with treats when we returned and Eli and I cracked open a well-earned baby prosecco each!

I’m determined not to let the hard work go to waste; our next lesson is on Friday – part flatwork, part jumping, and I’m already eyeing up the next competition. So that I can sh*t my pants all over again.