Riding lessons in college

When I was a senior in college, I found out that the university offered horseback riding classes in a group of courses called "physical education skills." I kicked myself for not having discovered this option earlier, and I signed up right away. Three levels of lessons were available: beginner, intermediate, and advanced. Of course I had to sign up for the beginner classes, considering my vast riding experience (mentioned in a previous post).

The university farm was all the way on the opposite side of the county from where I lived, so it took 45 minutes to get there from home (and almost as long from the university itself). It boasted two large indoor arenas, an outdoor arena, many paddocks for turnout, an upstairs office/observation room, both a private and a public tack room, and many roomy box stalls for the horses. Along the aisle to the upstairs office there were stalls on both sides. Around the corner were the rest of the stalls, across from one of the arenas. I think there were more that weren't in use across from the other indoor arena, but I can't recall for sure.

It was fall semester. There were six people in the class, including me, and only one was male. The instructor informed us that we would be using the outdoor arena when the weather cooperated. However, we never did have any lessons outside, even on gorgeous fall days with temperatures in the 70s. I think he preferred to keep us inside in a more controlled environment.

I was surprised to discover that the focus of the class was actually English riding, namely hunt seat, in preparation for the intermediate course on introductory jumping. Western disciplines had always been more popular in the area. However, supplemental Western lessons were also available once a week taught by a girl who graduated a year ahead of me from our high school. I decided to pursue those as well, since they weren't too expensive.

Throughout the semester we were assigned three different horses to ride. In addition, I rode several others as part of my Western lessons, since we picked whatever horse we wanted to ride (of the lesson horses in the barn, that is, since some of the horses were privately owned or too difficult for beginner riders). I could barely contain my excitement every time I drove to the barn. I was finally going to ride horses and on a consistent basis!! It seemed so unlikely that I would ever get to that point, and I felt I had to pinch myself to see if it was truly happening to me.

My first assigned horse was named Jigger. He was a short, fat buckskin pony with a cribbing habit. Cribbing is a vice that develops primarily in stall-kept horses where they latch onto anything they can with their top teeth and suck wind into their stomachs. Jigger was also lazy and exhibited the typical school horse lack of motivation. On the two days a week we met for the class, I quickly brushed him over, picked his hooves clean, then saddled and bridled him. He was never really dirty, since he had other riders cleaning him up prior to my ride time. His bridle had his name on it, but we used whatever saddle and pad we could find available in the tack room. They were all old leather all purpose saddles and contour sheepskin saddle pads. Back then I knew nothing of saddle fit or sizing. We didn't discuss bits used, and I couldn't even tell you what kind of bit was used in any of the bridles in the tack room. We barely covered the tack involved; it was just a routine of grabbing the stuff, saddling the ponies, and bringing them out to the arena. We always had to wear our velvet covered helmets and carry a riding bat.

On Jigger I learned to ride the walk and post the trot. We were also taught the two-point position, which is a balancing position learned in preparation for taking jumps. While we were told what the cues were used to ask for the trot, the horses were tuned in more to our instructor. They would pick up the trot when he asked us to move them up on his voice command alone. I learned the proper diagonal for posting the trot and eventually could tell which diagonal I was on without having to look at Jigger's shoulder.

The second assigned horse I rode was an old black gelding named Mountain Man. He had a swayback and rarely displayed much energy. He wasn't much to look at, but he listened to me and picked up my cues without a fuss. He wasn't as lazy as Jigger, just older than dirt and slow as a slug. He wasn't very tall either, but I think he was considered a horse rather than a pony. On Mountain Man I worked on trotting some more and rode my first canter. He cantered so slowly I think I saw some snails pass us by. I didn't find it difficult at all to learn to sit back and ride. At the present time, however, I have yet to sit a canter since I've started riding again, and I have only cantered a handful of times. Oh to be young again!

My third mount was a red gelding named Shadowfax. By this time it was late in the fall and the horses were covered in thick wooly coats. I would slide my hands under his mane to warm them up in the chilly air. Shadowfax was either a blood bay or a chestnut, I can't recall which. I discovered at this time that there were three horses at the barn over 30 years of age (old for a horse!), and guess what? I had been assigned to all of them!! Shadowfax was also a lazy pony, but he stepped lively when I tapped his generous rump with my crop. We cantered, trotted, and walked more, then started crossing cavaletti on the ground at the two-point position. I was in love with the canter! One day we even pulled the saddles from our ponies and rode bareback.

All too soon the semester ended and my lessons were over. I graduated a semester early so I wasn't enrolled for the spring semester, and I couldn't continue my riding adventures. I really didn't learn much from the Western lessons, since the girl was always too busy gabbing with her buddy (her fellow "coach") or playing with the horse she was riding to really teach us anything. Basically I used the time to get more of my horse fix. A few other horses made an impression on me while taking the Western lessons, and I'll mention them briefly.

Edna was a cute white mare with an attitude. Her name caught my attention right away, as that is my mother's name. While she was pretty, she was also a witch (hmmm... maybe there is a connection with the name? hehe). I only rode her once and argued with her the entire time. She didn't want to move forward and I wasn't insistent enough. That one experience was enough for me, and I never picked her again.

Jamaica was another of the fat pony types. He was so much like Jigger they could've been twins in attitude, although I don't think he cribbed. He was a red rabicano (white hairs interspersed throughout his body but without the typical roaning characteristics). He was a very cute pony but another who made me work for every step. Forget about asking him to go any faster than a bouncy trot.

My absolute favorite and the gem of the farm was a 15 year old Quarter Horse gelding named Easy. Easy was 17 hands tall, so he was HUGE, but he was also a sweetheart. He was a dark brown bay with one blind eye, which was the reason he was donated to the program. He was also the Western instructor's favorite horse, so she often took him before I had a chance to get him. He would try his heart out for you and give you his all. I loved that boy! It was scary to ride his canter at first, with his huge stride, but when I became used to it, I wanted to run with him forever. He was everything you could ask for in a mount and more. I wish I had been able to ride that wonderful boy more often.

One other horse to mention, although I never rode her or dealt with her myself, was Opie. She was a brown thoroughbred mare who was relatively new to the stable when I was taking lessons. Thinking back, I believe she was pretty much right off the race track when she was donated to the university. She was named Opie because apparently she was one of Oprah Winfrey's race horses. I think she sustained an injury on the track. It was easier and more lucrative for Ms. Winfrey to donate her and write her off than to try to rehab her and get her back on the track.

That magical fall gave me my only formal background in horseback riding. I'm hoping to be able to take up lessons again when I have some spare change. My dream is to eventually ride cross country or foxhunt for the exhilaration of galloping fast on a fiery steed across an open field, taking every jump in our path. Zeplin? Jazzy? Caly? Any of you up for being that steed?