Friday, Apr. 26, 2024

Warp Speed Easter

It is 5 p.m. on Easter Sunday. Ella and I are in New Jersey, and we're going as fast as we possibly can. And all I can think is, DAMN those STUPID CADBURY MINI-EGGS to HELL.

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It is 5 p.m. on Easter Sunday. Ella and I are in New Jersey, and we’re going as fast as we possibly can. And all I can think is, DAMN those STUPID CADBURY MINI-EGGS to HELL.

I don’t have the greatest willpower when it comes to food. Stop. Let me rephrase. I have exactly zero willpower when it comes to food. So when I was perhaps a little overzealous in two nearly back-to-back karate classes this week, leaving me absolutely crippled, I went to CVS and bought a giant tub of Bengay, a giant bag of Epsom Salts, and a bag of Cadbury Mini-Eggs. Which I promptly used all of, in their various capacities for healing. I am fortunately able to walk—I was not as of Saturday evening, with 12 hours before I needed to leave for Michael’s farm in northern New Jersey. But now I also feel like a huge, ginormous tub of lard.

Which, as I am attempting to sit Ella’s Mach-Two-With-Hair-On-Fire trot, is not an asset.

The reason we are going so forward is that I have not been. All my students can read this and smile, because as much as I go on and On and ON about GO MORE FORWARD, I do not always take my own advice. It’s a little scary, truthfully. Even as strong and well-organized as Ella is, as Ella has always been, she’s got unbelievable power for such a little one. I’ve always described her as an 18-hand powerhouse in a barely 16.2 hand package. She’s deceptive like that.

So in the last few weeks of work, I’ve unconsciously backed off the accelerator. Not on purpose. She just feels so darn good at only 50 percent capacity that I sometimes forget to go for the gusto.

But Michael’s caught me, and now we’re flying around the ring, mini eggs churning away. And wouldn’t you know it, once she’s really cooking, the things on my list of things I wanted to address this weekend—she’s a little strong, she’s not as good in the mouth as she’s been, the left half-pass isn’t like the right—all start fading away. Forward, as I preach incessantly, really is the answer to everything.

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We get through all that nonsense and get down to business. Passage. Higher and smaller. Come on. Rock her back. Sit her back on her hocks. Now give. Good. Careful; take her back again when she loses her balance. Now give again. Good. I think Michael’s pleased; we’ve been working very hard, trying to get out of the arena whenever we can—it’s rained cats and dogs since my return from Florida—to get some different terrain to work on. I think she’s even put on a little muscle since Florida. She’s certainly getting more and more confident, the best piece of all.

It’s not as good as it’ll ever be—miles to go before I sleep—but it’s better. Michael gives me this tricky little exercise at which I think I’m going to be slick, and instead am a total disaster at: quarter pirouettes in passage. The right one is actually pretty good, considering that’s Ella’s weaker side. The left, not so much. We’ll get better at it. A classic Michael-ism: “She’ll figure it out.” And she will.

I do get to show off the corners I’ve been slaving over—he’s definitely pleased about those. And we decide to ride her twice on Monday, to make the most of my short trip up. I’ve snuck away for about 48 hours, Sunday night to Tuesday morning. I hadn’t even realized it was Easter, as my family’s been more about the Bunny version than the Holy one. Since jelly beans and chocolate eggs are now more of a nuisance than they were at age 7—sitting trot, exhibit A—the holiday hadn’t crossed my mind when I asked Michael if I could come up this weekend. But Michael, who doesn’t do “days off,” said sure, c’mon up, and here we are, careening around his indoor before settling in to Easter dinner with a few of Michael’s clients and close friends. It’s a family here, too.

There’s a few things left on my list that’ll be on Monday’s docket. I want to get on the pirouettes; I think I know what’s not working, but I’m not sure how to fix it except to keep on it. I want Michael to see the ones, as they’ve gotten MUCH bigger and bolder but still aren’t quite straight. And I’m sure there will be a lot more warp speed sitting trot, too.

Maybe I should go easy on the dessert tonight.

LaurenSprieser.com
Sprieser Sporthorse

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