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?

My horse history: growing up pony-less

I have wanted horses my whole life. My mother dismissed the idea right away and never gave it a second thought ("Horses are too expensive"). Of course she never even looked into riding lessons for me, or any of the millions of options I now know are available as a horse owner. I think I'd love to have a child come hang out and help me with my ponies in exchange for some ride time (with permission of the parents, signed waiver, helmet--all the good stuff, of course). So I grew up with only a handful of tiny plastic horses and a larger (cheap) plastic model. I don't remember what happened to that model, I think it is still at my parents's house though. It was a grey appaloosa gelding with a blanket, I think. I have a horrible memory for details...

My first "horse adventure" occurred when I was four or five years old (I had the passion even then!). We lived on an acreage in a small subdivision in Wisconsin. I knew from going on trips to town that there was a horse farm down the road and up a big hill from our house. I had no concept of distance, I just knew it was close and I wanted to see the horses. I was determined to ride my tricycle to the farm. The road at the end of our subdivision was very busy with high traffic. That didn't phase me, I was on a mission! I can't remember how everything went down, I just remember getting tired trying to peddle up that big hill and finding broken glass along the side of the road. I never made it to the farm.

We did have neighbors down the road with very nice Quarter Horses (we lived on a small acreage in the country). The son was a year ahead of me in school, and the daughter was several years behind. They stood a beautiful palomino stallion and had a small herd of show stock. I don't know when, but my parents talked to the people who owned all of these lovely horses, and I was told I could stop by to visit anytime. I was really too shy, and I think I was afraid that the son would look down on me for being a poor girl desperately wanting her own horse. I went over a couple times and just petted some of the horses. I was too nervous to ask if I could ride, and I felt very uncomfortable just hanging out and not doing anything. The horse owners did give me a small stack of old Quarter Horse Journals, which I pored over every night, gazing in wonder at the shiny images of well-groomed, impeccably turned out halter horses. I knew nothing about breeding, but I did notice that a certain stallion was advertised in almost every journal as well as being listed as the sire of many of the other horses advertised. His name was Mr Conclusion.

Aside from my excursions to visit the farm down the road (not very often because I was too shy), I was not around horses much in my childhood. I did my best to become acquainted with every horse within bicycling distance of my house. I would go "around the block" with my next younger brother and stop by a house a few miles away with an old grey Arab living alone in a small, muddy turnout. He was a gentle boy, if dirty, and we never met his people. He came right up to the fence and allowed us to pet his soft muzzle.

I think I only rode a horse twice as a youngster. The first time was when we sitll lived in Tennessee and our neighbor had a mare named Bay Lady with a black and white pinto colt, Buddydugan. He was an older man with a granddaughter a few years older than me. One day he invited us over and led us around on Bay Lady. The kid across the road, who was in my class, got a pony and we'd climb on the poor thing double, but I don't count that because no matter how much we kicked him, that pony wouldn't budge. That's not really riding! But I digress--the second time I rode a horse was when one of my aunts still lived close to us in Indiana (about an hour away). She had an Appaloosa gelding that she had raised from a foal. He was HUGE to a young fourth grader (just over 16hh I think). He also was a biter, so I was a little afraid of him. My parents allowed me to stay with my aunt one weekend, and she longed me on her big gelding. He walked and trotted a little, and then my ride was over. That was the extent of my riding experience prior to my senior year of college.