Why is it that one small thing can suddenly make me even more nervous than usual? This week, Blackjack and I had a lesson with Laura, and I’m still in that stage of feeling apprehensive about riding him. On the ground, I can see clearly how far he’s come, how well behaved he is—he’s no longer the unpredictable, shape-throwing boy he once was. But the moment I climb into the saddle, logic seems to vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving me tense and unsettled, never truly relaxed. I remind myself that trust takes time, that each ride chips away at the worry bit by bit. It’s a process.
Instantly, my nerves kicked in
The moment I get on board Blackjack, I find myself leaning forward—something I’m working hard to correct. Usually, with a mental nudge from myself and a timely reminder from Laura, I can adjust into a more balanced, upright riding position. This week, though, I didn’t quite manage it. Just a few minutes into our lesson, another horse and rider entered the arena to warm up. Instantly, my nerves kicked in. To be clear, it wasn’t anything they did—the apprehension was entirely in my own head.
Nevertheless, I carried on with the lesson, doing my best to keep Blackjack’s focus on the exercises in front of us. Laura gave us plenty to work on—though I suspect it was more about keeping my mind occupied rather than being worried about Blackjack. Then she asked me to canter. To my own surprise, I said yes and we did. At the end of the lesson, she admitted she hadn’t expected me to go for it with another horse in the arena, and I confessed that I’d already ruled it out as a step too far. I can often manage to push myself further than I think possible.
As always, part of me wanted to berate myself for not being as fearless as I’d like. But I was also mindful that I needed to hold on to the positives. Saying yes to that canter was another step forward—one more piece of trust built into my partnership with Blackjack.
Something was wrong
The riding relationship I have with Riley on the other hand is built on complete trust. But that confidence didn’t appear overnight, it was born out of all the same moments I am now experiencing with Blackjack, and it’s easy to forget how I once jumped off Riley simply because another horse came into the school.
I know Riley so well by now that even the smallest change in his behavior stands out. Usually, the moment I’m on board he turns expectantly for the polo treat he always gets—but this time, he refused it. Straight away, I had the sense that something was wrong. When I asked him to walk and he didn’t move—another indication that the world wasn’t right with Riley—the feeling deepened. As we walked past the mirrors in the outdoor arena, I thought he looked stiff. I checked with Kevin, who was on the ground, and he agreed. A little later Laura joined us, and she saw the same thing.
Laura suggested adding Riley to the list for Rachel Greetham from Equine and Canine Solutions, who was visiting the yard a couple of days later to see some of the other horses. When Rachel checked him over—with a trot-up, some lunging, investigation, and massage—she recommended a few days off, followed by another lunge to reassess. From there we’ll decide if a vet visit is needed. For now, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that when we do lunge, Riley will be back to his good old self.
Riley and Blackjack certainly keep me on my toes—I never quite know what each week will bring. But whatever challenges they throw my way, I can always count on them for happiness, kisses, and cuddles.