"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 took the red mare down to the outdoor. We walked in sync, her long legs taking slightly shorter steps as I took longer steps. It was a beautiful day. The wind was gently blowing, and big puffy clouds hung in the sky.

“Today is the day!” I informed her. I had been getting more trot steps in at a time. The day before we went nearly the length of the long wall before I had to walk.

My teacher was already seated by the arena. He was teaching a student before me. I was early, but I needed time to walk around first.

She stood quietly for me while I put my helmet on. Her long red tail swished once to remove a fly from her hindquarters.

We walked around the arena and I imagined taking her to a horse show. I would win every class on a horse like this. She would be the picture of equine excellence. Maybe I would be “Scouted” for the Olympics. Now that would be crazy. Do the Olympics do First Level dressage? Maybe I would need to be riding FEI for that. I could probably do a better job at –

“PUT THAT HORSE ON THE BIT.”

I was visibly startled out of my Olympic career.

In my mental wandering, I had allowed her neck to stretch too far ahead of me and her nose stuck out on a straight line.

I gathered the reins and took a half halt and she was on the bit.

It is my turn. I walked her over to where my teacher sat.

“I would like to talk about the feel in the reins for this. She doesn’t feel at all like Peppa and I don’t know how to bridge the two of them.”

“You can’t talk and feel. Get trotting and when I tell you it is good, that is the feel you must look for.”

Well, okay then.

We set off trotting. The first bit of trot steps are like the first half mile of a run. The body needs time to catch up, to fill with air, the muscles need to get active.

I start to bounce and bring her to the walk.

“Try to stay trotting today, keep your shoulders tight so your head doesn’t bounce,” my teacher calls from his seat.

I don’t have to kick her, I rotate my hips slightly forward and she springs back into the trot. I open my chest and try to pinch my shoulder blades together.

Soon, I am wheezing for air. Each stride takes a toll on my abdominal muscles.

“Now do some leg yields.”

I bring her through the short side. This is the most I have ever sat with her. I halt her for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

Trying to breathe. I don’t answer him and just lean over her neck for a moment. She is not even sweating.

“Go back to trotting.”

I push with my hips and we go back to the trot, it feels bigger when I am tired and can’t control my own muscles as well.

We go through leg yields and shoulder-ins. Then it is time for the canter.

“Today, I want you to start controlling the canter off the circle.”

It feels like a big moment. She is as professional as ever and doesn’t skip a beat when I take the canter large. The strides seem to spring farther than when we are on a circle and –

“NOT GALLOPING! SLOW DOWN!” He is a speck on the other side of the arena.

I don’t have enough hip control for this. My thighs feel weak. I am an ant on a red mountain of horse. The next short side is rapidly approaching.

I half halt the bridle.

“Please walk.” She glides down to the walk.

“Try again but controlled in your body,” my teacher calls from the other side of the ring.

I press with my core and we spring back into the canter. Her red neck is shiny in the sunshine.

“SLOW!” I hear him call and I half halt but keep my body moving. She responds and rocks back in the canter. We are a carousel horse on the wall. Each stride only takes up six feet, instead of fourteen.

“Good!” This is my cue that we can be done. We walk and go to the front of the ring to dismount.

Now if I could only get my own horse to feel like this.