"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

I was given the opportunity to work a beautiful, red, warmblood mare for a year.

I had ridden many horses in my life by that point, but no extravagant movers. I first set about to longeing her in the indoor arena. I was quite hesitant when I started, my trainers were in the arena with me, but they were busy on their own horses.

When she first went to trot, she seemed to almost trot in place, later I would learn this is called “Pinging” and is not a quality habit. Her red neck would snake above the side reins, then she would go down, too low and deep.

I ended up handing her off to one of my trainers.

He raised the side reins so she wouldn’t go as low and loosened them, so she had room to stretch her neck. Then he set about to making her trot forward, in these large sweeping steps. She had the most beautiful trot I had ever seen; she seemed to hover for a moment in every step.

Once she seemed like a decent citizen, it was time for me to get on.

Riding a trot like that is significantly different from observing it.

I could not sit her trot.

We would go forward three steps and then I had to walk. I felt as though I might bounce straight up off her. She was lovely in the hand, but I had to keep grabbing handfuls of mane so I didn’t accidentally yank her in the mouth. I had hardly gotten halfway around the arena before I was told to ride on the quarter track.

Three trot steps. My whole body went rigid. My hips had no idea how to absorb this much power. Walk. Please walk.

She obliged. Trot and walk.

Trot and walk. After 20 minutes of this, I was told I should do a little canter.

The first spring into the canter was the crest of the hill before a rollercoaster drops. My heart was in my throat. Then we were scooped up into the next stride. I hung onto her mane like it would hold me on.

“Okayyyy, Walk!” I heard one of my trainers call. I stopped my body like I had been trained to do, and she glided down into the walk.

She was an Egret among Turkeys.

“She is amazing,” I said.

Amazing doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I needed to become a stronger, thinner person so I could learn to ride her.

Her trot deserved someone who could sit it.

I wanted to deserve it.