That phrase has turned into a little bit of a joke now. Overused in break ups and romantic dramadies, “it’s not you, it’s me.” Too bad because it’s such a great way to say the current situation isn’t working and you’re not going to hold the other person hostage for your happiness. Or in my case, hold my animal hostage to make me happy.

I’ve been planning for a while to put Gangster into training starting March 1^st. Back in December I committed to riding more, riding with more intention. Working him, not just to get him into better shape before the boot camp that is the trainer’s arena, but also to get us into a habit of riding with purpose as well. To strengthen our connection. If my life were a Hallmark movie, this is where the narrator would say, “It would not build their connection.”

In fact, my efforts to help us actually drained my confidence and degraded our riding. Gangster has always been stiff to the left at the lope. Now he was short striding, nose in the air, grunting when I brought him into frame and got his nose back down. I thought maybe he was in pain. I buted him, and lunged him, and scheduled chiro. But it didn’t improve our riding. He was fine on the lunge line. Then when I got on, he was stiff, his head up caused my guard to go up. So the negative feedback loop of body language did what it does and spun us both up. (See top photo as reference). The last two weeks of February I knew it was time to fold ‘em. I stopped riding him. I kept him exercised and let him run with other horses, but I stayed off of him. I guess at least I know when to quit.

 The trainer picked him up last Saturday. I’m already getting reports that he’s doing well. I haven’t heard that he’s totally bound up to the left, or that he’s bracing against the trainer. Of course not. Because the trainer doesn’t ride like me. He’s comfortable with the fluctuations of a horse’s performance, he’s got a higher threshold for meeting horses where they’re at and then guiding them into a tighter window of frame. But me, I want that tight performance all the time. Whether I put in the time or not. Regardless of if Gangster was properly lunged or there’s a crisp winter bite to the air and horses running wild in the next arena over. It’s unfair.  And I hear old words from my trainer echoing in my head, “Try not to ride so perfect.”

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I wish I could tell him, nope, just your rider good buddy. That’s all. Just an adult amateur battling nerves, dreams of perfection (gotta stop that), and fear. Fear of a spook that might unseat me. Fear of failing. Fear of disappointing people.

 Gangster is in training for four months. I have no doubt that he’ll get a great tune up in that time. But I’ll have to do a lot of my own work that has nothing to do with equitation and everything to do with changing my mindset when I’m riding him.

 It’s not you, it’s me.

 I’m undecided if that’s a depressing realization or an energizing one. Because at least I can control me. But then that also means, most of my improvement in riding is up to me.