When Engineers and Germans collide. The Chin-up.

Right from the start, Mr. Motard was intrigued by the concept of "full training board".  The engineer in him had to see how the mechanics of this situation were going to work.

He just couldn't accept what was so simply obvious to me - you go there, you ride a lot, yada yada yada - Prix St. George. For some bizarre reason, he thought it was more complicated than this, and felt the overwhelming urge to tear it down like an engine and stare at the greasy parts.

"You are going to take a lesson with this woman EVERY time you ride?  That is crazy!  Aren't you going to get sick of each other!"

"Uh..no.  I don't think so"  (anyone who has been in full training knows the answer to this is... HELL YES!).

"How much is all of this costing you - it must be a fortune!"

"Uh..it is surprisingly affordable"  (anyone who has been in full training knows the answer to this is... HELL YES!).

"How are you going to find the time for this!  Who is going to make dinner?"

And so on and so on... instead of answering an endless stream of questions, I suggested that he be a loving S.O and come along for the ride to help me move.  Don't ask me why this seemed like a good idea at the time.  Probably because I am not good at backing up the horse trailer, I thought at very least he might come in handy.

Frau Trainerin greeted us warmly and helped me to organize my crap, that was all fine, and barn staff made appropriate comments about the cuteness of the Platypus.  Then the tour of "the horses much better than the Platypus" began.

Now to me, this is totally normal.  You could walk into a barn full of three-legged critters with their heads screwed on backwards, and the owner would begin regaling you with the life and times of each special and awesome creature in their care. How they can split the atom with their anus or some other incredible feat that makes them worth 500x their value as meat.  We are horse people. That's what we do.  But I could see the first flickers of Mr. Motard's eyes rolling in his head, as his "oh my god, what bullshit am I submerged in" alarms started to go off.

In this case, most of the horses were pretty awesome, and I was actually really interested in hearing their stories.  But Mr. Motard's final string of polite restraint snapped when we got to the one that looked....like a cart horse.

"Well, WHAT is the story on this one.  Surely you are not going to tell me you imported THIS from Germany.  Or that he has some fancy breeding.  He looks like he should be pulling a plow".

Frau Trainerin smiled wryly and said "No Eee is not Ghaman bred.  Eee is out of Texas by Trailah"


Mr. Motard stared at her blankly.

"Out - of - Texas - by -Trailah!  Out of Texas... by Trailah!  Dees is a joke!  Eet means vee don't KNOW hees breeding.  Eee has come on a Trailah from somwhere, where, we do not know, maybe Texas".

Mr. Motard stared at her blankly.  Some more.  I explained the joke to him.  I then proceeded to struggle to stop him from trying to tell it for the next 8 years.  (No - it is not that funny, honey, really.  And when you ask someone who just spent $50,000 on a Dutch import if the horse is "Out of Texas by trailer" - it is just insulting.  Not funny.  No seriously - stop.)

Then, the trouble really started. Frau Trainerin's next mount was tacked up and ready for her to warm up for her waiting client/owner.  He got that certain smirk on his face that always proceeds his "but honey, I was just making conversation" routine.   The conversation is never, never good.

He mentioned in his wide eyed and "curious" way that he couldn't help but notice that although Ms. X and Mr. Z owned this horse, and Ms. ABC owned that one, and Sue Jones owned these, and so on...Frau Trainerin rode and showed them all.  And why can't Mrs. Smith warm up her OWN horse?  Don't these  women actually do any of their OWN riding?  What the hell is the point of having a hobby that someone else does?  What gives?  Are they too old and weak?

Ooohh... did you have to go there?  Really?  We all know this is kind of the way the competitive dressage world is.  There is most certainly a large contingent of rich horse petting clients.  Part of being a truly awesome full service coach is providing them with the just the right balance of riding  (to be sure that they feel they are entirely necessary to the game beyond just the wallet part) - and not riding (so as not to fuck anything up in the training department).  The business is built on it.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, whatever floats your boat - it is not how I see my world unfolding, but gee, we don't usually stop and point fingers, honey.

It was Frau Trainerin's turn to stare blankly. I could see just a hint of "who is this asshole" somewhere behind her cool and professional demeanor.

"Vell.  You know a lot about dressage, you think, heh?  How strong is YOUR girlfriend.  Vee ONLY have strong veemen here"

"Oh, she is strong.  Really strong"

"Yah? Vell let's see her do a chin-up eef she is sooo strong.  Can she eeevan do a chin-up"?

"Oh no PROBLEM. Curmudgeon - show her!  Do a chin-up.

"Noo...noo...I..I...noo.."

"Aaah you seee!  She eess not so strang now, heh?"

"Oh she is going to do it.  GO CURMUDGEON.  DO IT!"

Ahh, it took me back.  To another place and time... not a good one.  Back to grade school, when I was the "husky" kid doing the "ParticipACTION challenge".  Where I never, ever got anything other than the shitty "ParticipACTION" badge and the little plastic pin - not even a bronze badge for me - because I could not haul my chunky little ass up and do flexed arm hang for 8 seconds.  And now I had to do a chin-up.  In front of my fabulous new coach.

Sigh.  Again.  I guess I could have walked away.  But I told myself, Curmudgeon, you won't get to PSG by refusing to do chin-ups.  Or something along these lines.

Not another fucking PIN!

I took a deep breath, grabbed the barn beam, and **HUUUUHMMHHUUUUHHHMMMM**  (insert another deep breath here) ***HUUUMMMUUMMHHUUMMM** believe it or not, for the first time ever in my life I did ....a chin-up.

It was kind of like the stories you hear about when a car crushes a woman and her spouse finds some hidden superhuman strength that miraculously enables him to lift the vehicle, saving the life of his beloved. And not anything like when a crazed dressage woman drives her truck and horse trailer right over HER significant other, because she is so annoyed by his behaviour.  Which I can totally see happening too.

Well, that was that, I can't really remember anything else that happened as I think I blew a blood vessel or two in my head trying to haul my chunky little ass up just like back in '78.  I guess we made our way home and I probably had at least 3 glasses of wine to wash away the memories of my truly strange first day at my fabulous new barn.

To this day, Mr. Motard still seems to think this is some sort of bizarre dressage ritual that we do as a form of greeting when going into a new training situation.  Like Frosh week.  He doesn't get that it was just...weird.

So years later, when I finally went back into full training with a different FEI coach, you should have see the disappointment on his face when we got ready to go after dropping off my mare...

"What?  We are leaving?  But he hasn't even asked you to do the chin-up yet!"

Mr. Motard helps me move.

**Alert** Contains more graphic language than usual.  But I swear it really happened.

I bet I know another thing we have in common.  How many of you have a significant other that thinks you are ENTIRELY INSANE for even participating in this sport?

Anyone?  Oh come on, don't lie.

We will call mine, Mr. Motard.

Yes.  This is really a picture of Mr. Motard.  It is not Liz's boyfriend.

Of course, when choosing a partner to compliment one's horsey lifestyle, the ideal would clearly be to find one that is really rich and fairly busy, so you have plentiful time and money to go about neurotically pursuing the hobby.

Easier said than done, there are only so many of these to go around and they are difficult to find in the first place, let alone capture.  Count me among the failures in this department.

So I know a compromise many of us have found works relatively well is to find a S.O with a hobby that is equally as time consuming and expensive as Dressage.  Thus, the prevalence of motorsports, sailing and aviation among spouses.  That way, you can agree on a "don't ask don't tell" policy regarding expenditures, and keep relative peace in the household.

Sailing and Aviation are preferred I think because they also have monthly fees associated with either the hanger or the slip, similar to boarding a horse.  Unfortunately for me, motorcycles are quite content to hang out in the basement gathering dust and not accruing any costs all winter, which doesn't make for quite level playing grounds.  Still, not a bad compromise.

But no matter how level I may be able to convince Mr. Motard the playing field may be in terms of obsessive hobbies, time, money - I can't even begin to put a dent in his hard wired perception that the people of dressage are all nuts.  It doesn't help that Mr. Motard is a bit different himself - he is an Engineer, after all, and is a bit like Sheldon Cooper, only better looking and more interested in sex.

Part of the problem is that he doesn't come out to the barn a lot, but only shows up for special occasions.  He doesn't see us do all of the normal things we do.  Like conversing with cats in goo-goo voices, apologizing to our horses for poking them in the eye while putting on bridles, or arguing with our boots re: NO our calves are NOT getting fatter and how maybe THEY are the ones with the problem.  Totally sane and rational daily stuff.

Instead he sees the extreme things.  Like the Christmas parties where the barn manager is riding around drunk and backwards on the resident shetland pony.  Or any horse show, where grown women are walking around crying or yelling. In fact, sometimes that woman is me.

A favorite instance was a time where a totally out of control horse ridden by a beautiful blonde Young Rider in full top hat and tails came barreling up the hill to the back stable ghetto at Palgrave at a flat out gallop, with the rider leaning back and hauling on all four reins while screaming "FUCKINGGGG CUNTTT!!!" at the top of her lungs.

Mr. Motard paused, then said "Now that can't be the horse's real name.  Does it actually say that on the little brass plaque on its halter?"

He often asks me if I see Cunt at shows, and if she is doing well.  And also why I picked such a boring name for my horse.

And this all really started... the day he helped me move the Platypus.  Due to the incident involving the chin-up.

It's time. Shit or get off the pot, Dressage Curmudgeon...

First, I want to thank all of you for your comments, it is really fun to know that people are actually reading the blog, whether you hate it or love it.

I really did start it just to make my friends laugh.  Also - because I am kind of sad about selling my horse and am not sure what I want to do next in the equestrian world - it is a fun outlet for me.  I do seriously hope that if nothing else when reading you get a feeling now and then that you are not alone when faced with the total weirdness that seems to permeate our hobby.

Perhaps if you don't find any common ground at all, and think that I am just a vitrol spewing bitch - I would suggest that in some instances, you too may be able to see the various Emperor's penises (or labia depending on gender) if you look a little bit harder. And for the record, I say this entirely tongue-in-cheek - in case anyone out there isn't on side with my humour, and based on some of the posts I have read, I get the feeling there just may be a few of you out there.  So don't get too excited. (due to their lack of clothes - get it?   No real genitals were involved or displayed, I am just messing with you).  

But then on the other hand, maybe you are much better off than me if you don't.  I often do think to myself how much easier life would be if I could see the invisible shorts too, and there are many days I really wish I could.  Unfortunately if there is an ass or a dick out there, I seem to be able to spot it.  It is stressful, really.  Maybe Valium would help.  I am open to suggestions.

I see naked classical dressage instructors.  They are everywhere, walking around like regular people....

Anyway, enough of that. Back to the story.

It had now been probably 3 or 4 months since I started trying to find the right dressage coach.  The one option that is fairly obvious that I had not yet tried was to ante up and go to one of the big name, competitive coaches in my area.

Sigh.

There are a few issues with this, as I am sure some of you can identify with.

First and foremost - there is the associated expense.  Now, if I was starting from scratch again today, I kind of know the scene well enough that I would be able to find a good coach stationed out of a barn that does not require a full training program, and we are fortunate enough to have some excellent options in my area.

But at the time, I was not as informed, and the people I had tried had..well, you read it... they sucked.  I wasn't taking any chances.  I was going to go whole hog - full training or whatever was required to get hooked up with a known, proven FEI coach.  And they don't come cheap.

To address this lack of finances issue, I did what we all do.  I started on a hard core program of self delusion, telling myself that it totally made sense to spend $1000++ per month on learning to ride.  Who wouldn't?  I would be an idiot not to, really, don't you think?  What's that?  Did I hear you say YES?  I thought so.  

I still may not be able to count tempis to save my life, but I must say, (if you can allow me to brag just a little), that my financial self delusion program has been beyond successful, and I can probably soundly kick anyone's ass in this department.  Shazam!  Take that.

As just one example, I proceeded to drive my 1995 Honda Civic into the ground for the next 5 years and 500,000 km because I really, really loved it.  Errr...yah, that's it.  Pfft, who wants a NEW car.  I loved "Old Blue".  It had nothing to do with lack of funds... noooo, noo, nothing at all.

"We've got a thing, and it's called, Poverty".  Wait, wait - I meant to say  "Radar Love".

So that was that.  Which brings up the next issue - would they want the Platypus?

Because as cute as I thought he was - it all goes back to the invisible shorts thing and how I never see them - I knew the truth.  He was not what most FEI level coaches dreamed of having in their barns.  Forget what the bulletin boards say about "a good horse is a good horse" blah blah blah... there is no way, no how, breed bias doesn't exist.  I will get into this discussion at many points in the future, but for now, I am sure you can identify.

So, I figured the best way to deal with point #2 was just to lay it all on the table.  I called up the biggest, hottest name in my area and asked if I could come for a ship-in lesson to discuss the possibility of putting the Platypus into a training program.

Sure!  Come on over!

So I loaded up the red rocket and off we went, and had the BEST LESSON YET!  I was so pumped.  She was an awesome coach, kind of funny in a dry way, the arena was beautiful, the horses were beautiful, barn was beautiful...

And best of all, she did not recoil in horror when I asked if we were welcome.  Of course!  Come and start in our full training program next month.

Finally!  The stars were aligning.  I was about to really get started.  FEI, here I come....right?

My brush with... sort of somewhat celebrity.

Ok, I took one last kick at the cat (I can't recall whether it was a true kick, or more of a "boxing with my legs".  Like Lisa Wilcox.  Regardless).


Through some convoluted series of contacts that I made on EMG but are not interesting enough to review here, I found a new coach who sounded fabulous to me (at the time).

Credentials included:

- Hunter / Jumper background with some top U.S riders - niiice, niiiice.. she should be able to better understand the challenges I am facing versus Coach Crabby
- Recently imported $$$ horse that she fully expects will take her to the top of the sport shortly..
- Currently in full training with short listed rider - good, I like that

Uhhh... wait a minute.

Reading this now, it is clear - this person hadn't actually done ANYTHING dressage wise, other than buy a horse and find a coach.  She was essentially ME, but with lots of parental money backing her.   So why I actually paid her money to share her ignorance - gee, you got me, she sounded really impressive on EMG - add another one to the stupid choices made column.  For some reason in this horse game, I am not sure why, I think sometimes we have a lot of trouble separating out what one can BUY versus what one actually can DO

(The classic example is the plethora of newly minted "Young Riders" who are hanging out their coaching shingles, thinking they are now ready to give some tips to the likes of Edward Gal... Not to be a curmudgeon.. oh wait, I am one... but I wouldn't be too pumped up on your expertise unless you actually took an active role in getting the horse to that level yourself (and I know some did).  Bought from a pro and all ready to go doesn't quite cut it if you are trying to convince me you are a trainer.  It is a great start no doubt buuuut....)

Team this up with the fact that when an "outside coach" comes to your barn, you don't even necessarily get to see them DO, whatever it is they say they can do.  Even if they can get on your horse (always a nice option), the combined sum of knowledge in the realm of dressage possessed by you and your horse may be so limited that you can't really tell what the hell is going on anyways (ahh I see she is teaching him to leg yeild away from that mounting block, how interesting - whhaa...hey, wait a minute, is that little bugger spooking AGAIN?)

(Which again takes me back to - don't ride with people you have not actually done a thorough stalking on in person).

Now in fact, I really don't have anything much either positive or negative to say about this young woman.   She was nice enough, the chatter was pleasant, I felt like she actually had enthusiasm for teaching.  I remember that we did some walk squares (good exercise), spiral in / spiral out, stuff like that, sure.  Nothing inherently bad.  But - I remember that I just wasn't feelin' it. (Possibly because there wasn't much "IT" to her lessons, since she wasn't actually an experienced dressage rider). If it was a romance, she would have been tall and blond, when as we have already reviewed in an earlier post, relatively short and dark  is more my type.  There was no spark, it was just blah.  I can't even remember one memorable thing that happened that is mock-worthy.  Sorry.

So that would have been that...if it weren't for Mrs. Curmudgeon and her sudden interest in "UnStable" on CMT quite a few years later - maybe 2009.  She said I HAD to watch!  So I did.

http://www.cmt.ca/show/unstable/

To fill you in quickly if you can't be bothered to watch - it is a painful reality show looking at the day to day lives of catty backstabbing Hunter Jumper people.  Including... ta da!... this particular coach.  So somewhere along the happy trail to the top of the sport on her fabulous dressage import, she took a freakish detour and was now slogging it out with a strange little bunch of riders in Southeastern Ontario to see who could be the biggest bitch around.

After seeing this - I did a fairly intensive internet stalking on her and found that she had barely shown dressage at all, ever - the fancy import never made to the upper levels - and the furthest it did go was while being ridden by a true pro. I guess this could have depressed me, seeing what a sucker I was, but honestly, it just made me laugh.  It was actually a testament to just how far I had actually come.  Oh my god, I took lessons with HER!  Ha ha ha.  Oh, DC you moron.  It is a miracle you didn't quit then.

As a post script...scribing last summer, I heard a name I recognized - it was UnStable's import, doing a very normal looking 2nd level or so test at a Silver show.  Nice horse, well mannered, and a well ridden test.  I think her and her new rider are lucky to have each other.

UDBB! How's it goin' eh?

The picture is of me, circa 2010.

But that Liz person must be one hot babe on a fine looking horse.

No. Seriously. "Hunter" does not equal 1st Level

Another question that cropped up frequently during my early days of "dressage" was "Hey, DC, you like your hunter coach.  Can't you just keep on riding with her?  After all, dressage is really just flatwork.  All hunters can do dressage up to first level".

No.  No.  No.

If you are a hunter person, here is a tip.  You sound like an idiot when you say this.  So don't.

Yes, I know.  We have all seen instances where "Bieber Fever" (registered name at time of importation -Teufel Laich), an 11 yr old stopper - oops!  I mean hunter! where is my brain... hunter showed up at a Bronze show and kicked ass in training level 3 with scores in the 70's or something and is now advertised as a "dressage prospect" for $50,000.

"Dressage Prospect"

You see!  Hunters can easily dominate in the dressage ring.  Dressage is just "flatwork".

This is just so wrong.  On so many levels.  Let's start with the "scores in the 70's" part.

The directives for training level are as follows:

Purpose: To confirm that the horse is supple and moves freely forward in a clear and steady rhythm, accepting contact with the bit.


Not exactly rocket science and acrobatics.  It is no magic that aged hunters do well at training level.   Remember - if a horse is going to actually "progress up the levels" in dressage - they should be 3 or 4 and green as grass in training level.  Forward / clear / steady and riding past the judges booth without having a serious meltdown are actually impressive at this age.  Not so much in a seasoned hunter with no other career options beyond dressage and Dog Chow due to lack of initiative to jump 3'. The bar is pretty low.

In training level, any horse that enters the ring, does some semblance of forward, contact, not freaking out like an idiot should immediately earn a 60. Do all of this while looking somewhat  competent - 65.  On a big shiny nice moving beast like Bieber Fever - 70 is a cakewalk.

And when we look a bit deeper at Bieber Fever's situation - it is clear that "Teuffy" is no spring chicken.  He has at least one ringbone encircled foot in the grave.  The days of a long legged German dude in a bowler showing off his prancy little trot at the Verden auction were just so long ago.

Now, his teenage owner who was once so excited to see him step off the plane (thanks, mommy and daddy!) is more interested in a $15 pasta stirfry and flirting with a man who even Teuffy can tell is screamingly gay than actually learning to ride a decent course of jumps without ripping his teeth out over every fence.  He has spent his last 6 summers standing ringside in the blistering Caledon heat (when there isn't torrential rain) sunrise to sunset with golf carts and Honda CRF50's narrowly skimming his ass - pfft, a few flowers in a cone with a letter on them?  Bring it on.  Nothing phases him.  If all you ask of the poor guy is to plod around  in a clear and steady rhythm with his face on the vertical (or nose just slightly in front, if you are a militant UDBBer), hey, he is happy as a schwein in scheibe.  A few transitions?  What the hell. No probs.

However... our goal in dressage is supposed to be progression, and just because Teuffy can cut the daisies around a 20 m circle really doesn't mean he is going to show much enthusiasm for, say, collection.  Or doing a flying change - when YOU decide to do one.  Remember that pyramid I mocked earlier?  Well really, as much as it kills me to admit it, it does make sense.  And while calm and obedient can take you through training level, and maybe even first - after that, you actually have to have a foundation to build on, and most hunter trainers (I won't say all) just don't have any clue how to build it.  Why would they?  It is not their game.

THEY don't know this of course, and when you meet them at dinner parties or wherever it is you happen to cross paths, they will not respect what it is you are slogging away to do whatsoever, and will tell you that good flatwork is good flatwork...and that really, we are all doing "dressage".

My recommendation at this time - instead of driving the plastic holly stir stick into their eye - is to have more egg nog and smile blankly.  Hey, how about those Maple Leafs!  Do you thing Reimer will be back soon?

Cheers!

An afternoon with Coach Crabby. Uh.. make that half an afternoon.

Alrighty, back on track.  Who was next in the lineup.

Oh, yes.  Coach Crabby. 

As mentioned earlier, the Platypus was still residing at the hunter barn he had called home for the last few years.  However - the woman who owned the barn happened to have a passion for dressage.  She suggested that the two of us team up and get her favourite dressage coach to come in to teach both of us.

Uhh - ok.  What are her qualifications?  (Good question eh - see?  I am learning). 

Why she is a JUDGE!  And has been for many, many, years.  Since the dawn of dressage here in Canada.

Well that sounds awesome.  A judge must really know her shit.  Right?  This is going to be perfect.

Oh, Dressage Curmudgeon.  You were so innocent back then.   Assuming that judges that have not actually ridden or shown themselves in eons are a sweet, sharing bunch, full of enthusiasm about the sport that has earned them their living, excited and happy to help newbies to the sport excel. 

Ha ha, ha.  Ha.  Haaaa..

(Oh, give me a sec to wipe the tears from my eyes, haven't laughed that hard in a while).

It didn't begin well.  At all.  (But you knew it wouldn't).  Coach Crabby showed up with a cold or some sickness, I can't remember what it was, but enough to giver her an immediate excuse (in her special world) to be surly and gruff, and to seek sympathy and some sort of high-five for making it out to teach the lesson.  (Again - that's why they call it..work.  I can't imagine starting a conversation with one of my customers by bitching about how much it sucks to have to help them out when I have issues of my own).    She barely said hello before stomping on out to the arena and plunking her ass down on a chair - her interest level in me, my horse, my goals - all somewhere around zero, or below. 

And so, we headed out on to the 20m circle.  With some spooking on the part of the Platypus.  Every time we went past the mounting block, he would throw his body to the inside, totally ignoring my leg or attempts to maintain bend on the circle. 

Well, we all know, from reading stuff or whatever it is our coaches have said to us in the past, that when your horse is spooking at something on the rail, throwing himself to the inside and losing all bend, we should ride in "shoulder-in" position past the spooky object.  Right? 

Certainly. 

However I now also realize that probably 99% of the riding population has no clue what a shoulder-in actually is.  I was solidly in this majority at the time, and my "shoulder-in" was actually a face crank back to the inside with an indirect rein, boot-boot-boot with the inside leg, and shove the horse back onto the rail and sideways past the spooky object in whatever fashion seemed to work.



And truthfully - even now, the concept that one could elegantly float past something horrifying on the rail, even mounted on an extremely well schooled horse in a correct shoulder-in is pretty optimistic.  Laughable really.  If the object out there truly is spooky - there is usually some serious debate with the horse beyond "dressage in harmony" that must occur to schwung on by. 

Well, Coach Crabby did not like my technique.  At all. 

"Go back around and ride that again.  Ride straight.  Use your shoulder-in.  Don't cross your inside rein over his neck"

Great advice.  If you are optimistic enough to believe that telling someone taking one of their first dressage lessons on a hunter pony is likely to have any fricking clue on how to execute it.  Annnnd sooo....Platypus proceeded to scoot to the inside of the circle again.  And again.  And again.  As I tried to ride straight, use my shoulder-in, and not yank him back to "inside bend" by crossing my inside rein over his neck.  Again, And again, And again. 

"Do it again!  You are NOT listening!  Stop crossing your rein over his neck!  Ride a shoulder-in!  Use your outside rein to keep him straight!"  Blah - blah - blah...It was beyond futile. 

Looking back, one of three logical things really should have happened.  None of them did.  Coach Crabby could have said:

1. "Look, this isn't very productive.  Why don't we move the 20m circle to the other end of the arena and work on something else"

OR

2.  "Hey, how about I move this object.  Your horse finds it scary". 

OR

3.  "Ok, let me get on and show you how it's done".

Ha ha, that last one is funny isn't it.  Because the most arrogant, know it all instructors do seem to be the ones that would not get on your horse if you held a gun to their head.  Instead, Coach Crabby came over, grabbed either side of the bit and wiggled it around in Platypus' mouth until he submitted to pressure, then told me to get back on the circle.  To this day, I have  no clue what this bit waggling was supposed to do, but what it did do - was absolutely nothing.  Around we went, and surprise!  Platypus spooked, I crossed my rein over his neck to yank him to the inside, and the yelling started.

WHY are you crossing your rein over his neck!!  I have TOLD you SEVERAL times now to STOP - WHY do you insist on DOING IT!

Uhhh.. because I have been doing it... forever.  And it is not that I don't agree with this advice - no, not at all.  But after 15 years (or whatever) of riding in the hunter ring, where a finessed indirect rein was preferred to an obvious opening rein when all else failed,  having one woman tell me 5 or 6 times to STOP really had no impact on my neural pathways whatsoever.  I didn't even know I was doing it, I am sure, it is just what I *did*.

"Stop doing what?  I am not doing it.  What?  Am not"

And in fact, after 8 years of dressage - although I have proudly overcome the indirect rein entirely - I still do not:

a.  Sit back
b.  Keep my reins short enough
c.  Sit back
d.  Keep my thumbs on top
e.  Sit back
f.  Elbows in
g.  Keep my shoulders down and back
h.  Look in direction of movement during half pass - oh wait, depending on the coach - look where horse is looking during half pass

Etc. etc. etc.  In retrospect, it was so incredibly stupid of this woman to think that by telling me to cease and desist that I actually would.  On what happy planet did she usually teach on, where telling someone to do something a few times magically eliminated a deeply ingrained bad habit?  Wish I was there, I really do. 

But I guess as a judge, pointing out errors is your forte.  Actually having the patience and knowledge to fix them - not so much.

And so - I did what I should have done during my lesson with the 4 year old schoolmaster.  I got off my horse, and together we left, with Coach Crabby nattering some shit as we did so.  That was that, after about 20 minutes.  A relatively quick and painless end to Coach Crabby. 

Somewhere down the road, on my new horse, I did actually get judged by Coach Crabby, and I thought my marks were very fair, generous even.  So I don't think she is a total jerk on purpose, just for kicks. Well, maybe not, anyways.