Competing Your Horse - It's Not About What Happens at a Show - It's About How You Handle It. Keep Calm and Carry On.

I sometimes think more things go wrong at shows than go right. But then that's the competitor in me talking and I'm not channeling Jane Savoie's In Your Minds Eye,  - positive thinking in a nutshell. It's not just about the ribbons is it. Jane knows.

As a dressage rider I've messed up many tests despite my horse's best efforts to correct me. Going off course, wrong movement at wrong time. I've actually had instances where my horse offers an extension and I'm saying no and holding him back because I'm thinking medium. I am wrong, he knows the test better than I do.

I've inadvertently and on purpose left the ring during a test. Once to escape a dog barking ferociously and snapping at my poor mount's hind legs, once because my horse simply would not stay on the right side of the chain despite my every effort, and other times just because my steering was not right. Being consistently told my by present coach Greta Kemmer to 'use the corners ' and 'ride to the letter exactly' sometimes my horse seems to spin out on the way around or understeer - a bit like Jeremy Clark's Top Gear brigade - every horse rides like a different car. You have to know just how much gas, bumping leg and seat aids to give it and precisely when.

There have been other fun instances. For example, tack mishaps like a rein that simply fell off the bit. Which of course happens when you switch bits after the warm up and are not fully focused. I was left holding the horse with one rein and he promptly took advantage and took off at a smart canter. Lucky for me the ring steward was paying attention and caught us. There was the time I was being driven home and was checking my test sheets and found all the names are correct on the top and front but all the scores pertain to a different rider. I knew it wasn't me when I scored an eight for a piaffe, because my horse shuffled in passage and never quite sat down and stayed on the spot the entire day. To this day they never figured out what the mess up was - and I didn't get credited the score. A shame because it was higher than I think I actually attained. There rears that annoying honesty thing again.

Then of course there's the lame horse. The disappearing and re-appearing lameness ( obviously appears just as you enter at A), the head shaking imaginary bugs that also appear only in the confines of the ring, the noisy spectators, the flapping umbrellas and rustling of papers, loose dogs and children, billowing tents at C - well, you get the picture. And let's not forget the wardrobe mishaps. The bouncing boobs because you forgot the right bra and they don't sell undergarments at the show! The stock tie that just won't tie properly backwards. Which wouldn't be necessary if you hadn't got hot sauce all over it after the classes yesterday when you just had to eat that high calorie fried showground food. The white breeches that quite simply, aren't. They were when you put them in the case. A bit like the missing sock mystery and the laundry. Note to self, always bring more than two pairs of breeches!

But I show because it is fun. Seriously. Once you get over the nerves it truly is enjoyable. I learn more about my training from the judges than I ever could at a clinic or symposium. I also learn important life skills like not letting other people get under your skin.  Subtle intimidation techniques
 ( I'm being sarcastic) like the rider cantering their massive horse toward your smaller one with purpose when the entire warm up ring is empty. The ring steward who insists that the horse be bit checked three times because she wasn't there for the first two and who grabs at the reins like they are a life line on a sinking ship causing your horse to rear uncontrollably for two very long minutes.

I've learned to multitask - fixing your hair while holding your whip in your newly bonded teeth ( my dentist loved that), and at the same time talking to your help, ( frankly no-one present can understand you, pity the dentist isn't there to translate). I've improved my language skills during my travels. You will soon learn to read basic directions and facility names like bathroom, medic, technical delegate and of course all types of food and beverages. Plus you'll learn to understand a myriad of call out phrases during the warm up or risk being knocked off your horse. You'll learn that Gasolino in Portuguese is diesel fuel and not gas. Whoops. ( Thankfully it was a rental car and not a towing vehicle and Hertz were very understanding though I did miss my first class).  I've also improved my driving skills. Italy is particularly challenging but I've learned to yell out the window like the rest of them. More language and sign language skills.

I have also improved many of my equestrian skills. I can now hum and talk in a whisper during any transition without moving my lips. A true ventriloquist. Of course my horse's ears give me away a bit and I get a few stern looks from the judges occasionally. But I must make each transition count. Greta will berate me otherwise.

I can pretty much fudge through any freestyle error and make a correction elsewhere. But then Greta knows me well and we've built those in.

Somehow when you put your tails on you do sit better and assume a better level of horsemanship - think it's the 'dress up for the stage' and 'act well' part of of the play. I can recover a halt most amazingly well if I do say so myself. My knee wriggle is most useful in all my pirouette works and collected walks.

What I thought was an 8 extension wasn't. What I thought was enough half halting, wasn't. What I thought was a reasonable 10 meter circle, wasn't.  On the other hand, what I thought was a medium canter above the bit wasn't. What I thought felt like too much forward movement in piaffe wasn't. What I thought was a spinning pirouette, wasn't. So - all those experienced eyes on the ground and the video playback afterward educated me, even where I thought I knew better. Another note to self - nothing improves your riding quicker than a video of your performance.

My ultra basic ( read British) politeness is under better control. I ask for what I want and if someone cuts me off when riding or passes too close to my horse in the aisle-way I have no problem pointing it out.  If I lose something important tack, clothing or equipment wise during the show I have no qualms about asking a fellow competitor or vendor to help me out, even if they are a superstar name that I happen to be stabling near. People can be so competitive in the ring but outside of it can be amazingly kind and almost human, even dressage people. Who knew.

So if you can afford it get out there. Smile at those you meet. Share with those you come into contact with - pretend your an eventer for the day, they are exceedingly generous and friendly.  And when things go wrong, and they will, get all British on it and " Keep Calm and Carry On."