Firn's Blog Post # 2

Confident Jumping, or How Not to Jump a Combination




Photo credit: Action in Motion Photography

I think that the vast majority of horse people would agree that the hardest thing about riding is not anything to do with the horse's mind, but everything to do with the rider's mind.

Yes, folks, I'm talking about rider confidence. It's a well-used subject, but with good reason. Confidence is important in any sport, but when your teammate is a sensitive 1000lb animal that may panic upon sensing any fearfulness, it becomes absolutely essential. And it's something that most of us have trouble with, from 4* eventers to tremulous beginners when they first perch on a horse's back.

The trouble with confidence - or rather the lack thereof - is that it so seldom makes sense. Many of us have had a horrible fall, with the result that we become nervous in a similar situation. That's a different story, and takes a long time and lots of positive experiences to overcome. But there is another type of nervousness that has nothing to do with physical pain or bad experiences, and that can be even more frustrating.

Do you remember the first time you cantered? I do; I hung onto the mane with my eyeballs nearly falling out of my skull, uncertain whether I should scream, laugh, cry, or wet myself. I was ten years old and the valiant Horse Mutterer was hanging onto my horse's reins and running for all he was worth with the bewildered horse cantering after him (there are certain advantages to being 6' 4"). It took me months to get used to the idea and ride a canter without being terrified. After that, of course, I used to gallop my green horse bareback all over the farm, alone. I think my guardian angel needs to be paid overtime. But my point is that my fear of cantering had nothing to do with past experience because I had none; it was just the idea of it that made me nervous, and that idea is the hardest thing to overcome.

While now I am nearly as calm in a canter as I am sitting here as I type, a new fear has reared its ugly head: jumping. Oh, little crosses aren't scary at all and I can still school young horses to jump without any trouble. But when the jumps go up my confidence goes down proportionally. Absolutely none of it makes sense. I have never had to ride a horse that bolts around a jumping course like a maniac; I've never had a bad fall whilst jumping, either. Magic did rattle me once or twice when overjumping (and Magic overjumps like a hyperactive mountain goat on a trampoline), but I didn't come off him. I also crashed headlong into a jump once when the horse stopped and I didn't, prompting the Mutterer to burst out laughing; it was much more embarrassing than it was painful. No, my nervousness when jumping doesn't come from a bad experience. It's plain old fear of the unknown. The frustrating part is that it still lingers even when I have managed about 3' 9" on trained horses, but still worry when riding my greener ones over anything bigger than 3', even though I've done it before. The nervousness has just never gone away.

But, as always, the horses are coming through for me. There's nothing like a trainable horse to boost your confidence. Every session, I've been putting up my big oxer about two inches, and every session Arwen has been clearing it over and over again. Poor Arwen is sick to the death of that oxer, but she jumps it every time as long as my legs are on. It's just over 3' 3" now, and I'm starting to worry less about clearing it and more about, you know, jumping over the middle of it and not looking like a frightened duck in midair (complete with sad little flappy wings).

Today I even felt good enough to put up a quite challenging 3' double for a client horse. Alas, I then proceeded to ride it like it was a pair of 6" cross-rails and apparently fell asleep during the approach. The horse (a valiant little horse with a heart made of solid gold) sort of canter/trotted to the first fence, hauled himself over, landed in a heap, found absolutely no support from his rider and just sort of gently staggered to a halt. I shot up his neck like a newbie, and he - startled by the strange limp creature his rider had become - shied sideways, resulting in me landing neatly in the tiny gap between the horse and the jump. I may not be an astounding rider, but I am extremely talented when it comes to falling off. Mortified (I had two clients and my trainer watching) I bounced back onto the horse almost before I could hit the ground and, thoroughly awakened by this little interruption, we galloped through the combination without incident several times.

I'm actually pretty pleased with how it all went. Biting the dust is never ideal, but I was able to remount and jump through the combination again without a qualm. I trust that particular horse with my life, and the jumps were quite nonthreatening verticals, but it's progress in little steps and I'll take it.

What do you do to help your confidence, readers? Is it best to take a step back, lower the fences and try to rebuild confidence when nervousness sets in? Or does gritting your teeth and gutsing it out work best for you?