A Week in the Fatherland

I admit that every so often I ask myself why I’m still riding. I’m not particularly good. Placing the photos and ribbons away in a box would be much simpler, cheaper, and undoubtedly more sane. I could look at the box’s contents with a sort of wistful fondness and then go about my day.

The problem is, like with many horse people, if I did that it would feel like I snuffed out a portion of my soul. If I haven’t ridden in awhile, I start to feel ghost reins between my ring and pinkie fingers. Without a recent ride, I get an “off” feeling that’s hard to shake.

Never mind trying to talk to non-horse people about these issues. First world problems? Maybe so, but at least horse people can relate. Despite religiously taking lessons on saintly mounts, I’ve only made it as far as the adult amateur hunters. My junior career? Let’s just say it involved lengthy conversations with my horse during lessons so I could remember to breathe (more on this later). Talking to your horse on the way to a crossrail during a group lesson can really drive the humble point home. Suffice it to say, I’m a perpetual work in progress.

Nonetheless, I developed the jumper itch while sitting on the sidelines of more than a few grand prix rounds, and decided to take the plunge. Recently, I had the opportunity to tap into the knowledge of professional show jumper Martin Fink for a week of training in Warendorf, Germany. Through a business associate and friend, I was able to lock down some one-on-one time with Martin as soon as I could clear my schedule. At a frantic pace, I got everything in order and called my friend back with a resounding “yes” and firm dates in mind.

Can You Carry a Tune?
I read somewhere that people who have a good eye for jumping are usually quite adept at music as well. They could be on to something – I’m as boggled by tones and notes as a swimmer in a desert, but I remain optimistic that one day I will be able to tell when someone is singing flat; and one day I will be able to see my distance six strides out at every obstacle. With that in mind, I had one definite goal in mind during my short training time: improve my eye.

Warendorf was an absolute treat for any horse person. A local tack shop was just caddy corner to a bakery. A quick pastry, coffee, and all the Eskadron a girl could want – suddenly a week seemed too short.

My first lesson with Martin was to gauge my skills. To make the situation less intimidating, I used an old trick where I pretend to be some other rider as I go about my lesson. Some lessons I’m Reed Kessler and other times, McLain Ward. I decided on Marcus Ehning for this lesson (it seemed apropos.) 

Attempting to channel thoughts of Ehning.

To assess my ability level, Martin laid out four poles in a circle and my task was to maintain a proper rhythm and flow over them. We’d bobble over a few and then nail a few, my typical (infuriating) style. Martin caught on quickly, and would always make me do a repeat after a near perfect round just to make sure the first time wasn’t luck. After one particularly good go, I asked if we could be done. I wanted to savor the magical moment. “Ok,” he replied hesitantly.

But half a second later he corrected himself. “Actually, no. You can’t be done. You have to do it again.”
I heard “again” a lot.

The other word that Martin could have had on repeat for me was “breathe.” He chanted the word every stride as I made my way around the ring. As a trainer, he said he has seen so many good riders cripple their rounds by forgetting to breathe. He wanted to see big breaths. His chanting finally seemed to take hold, and I could start to feel myself and my horse maintain a relaxed focus.

Additional small, subtle changes Martin incorporated made all the difference. I’m really, really good at finding close distances, but the slow pace that I love would, not really be ideal for my jumper debut.

Once Martin saw I was comfortable with the little course he had put together, he said if I felt safe I should try to be “brave.” Naturally, brave equaled "go faster."

“If you can move up to the jump, do it,” he said. I think I managed this task maybe twice and was ecstatic.

On Sunday morning, I arrived at the barn and Martin asked “how does a Sunday hack sound?” “Perfect,” I replied. My entire body ached in a way that Tylenol didn’t know how to fix. We walked for a bit to get out onto the trails, and suddenly we were on a fairytale path – straight out of picture book for riders. My 5-year-old mare, Topaze, was entirely nonchalant about the ride, making it all the more enjoyable. It was wonderfully therapeutic.

The stunning trails of Warendorf.

As with any good trip, I found myself wishing I could stay longer. It was an amateur rider’s dream-come-true when Martin mentioned how happy he was to see such progress in a short amount of time.

For those of us not blessed with oodles of natural talent, our trials are different, yet similar. We are all bogged down with many of the same worries and constraints. My training time, while short, offered several nuggets that I could take home. I can feel my jumper debut drawing nearer with just a bit more confidence.

Katie Shoultz is an amateur rider based in Lexington, KY. She currently manages Isidore Farm, home of ProEquest Pro Diana Conlon, and can usually be found at her desk or on another run to Tractor Supply.

Another picturesque view of the farm and its outdoor arena.

A happy occupant in the stables.