Winning or Learning

Is it possible to be perfect in dressage? No one in history has scored 100% on a dressage test. It’s actually rather ironic that the discipline of dressage seems to be a magnet for perfectionists, since no one has yet perfected it.

Photo Credit: Jess Mayfield Photography

Isn’t that one of the coolest things about dressage, though? We are always able to learn more, improve more. Maybe that’s why it draws us perfectionists in – we love to work on getting better.

Life is all about the journey. Ambition can lead you places, but if you remain ambitious, you'll never reach a final destination. As Socrates said, we never get "there", because when we do, "there" moves.

Sometimes our drive for perfection is a fabulous thing. It motivates us to improve ourselves for our horses. It can push us to do things we might not otherwise do, like go to the gym to get stronger so we can ride better.

Other times it can become detrimental. I’ve definitely made the mistake of pushing my horse too hard and regretting it when I tried to do something “just one more time” to try to make it better, only to realize I should have stopped where I was at.

We also are subject to pushing ourselves too hard, as well as expecting more of ourselves than we are reasonably able to do. Have you ever beaten yourself up after a ride for not being as good as you want to be, or not improving as quickly as you’d like?

Too often we don’t give ourselves the same support we would give to another person, or to our horse. We expect ourselves to be able to learn and do things at an impossible rate. Growth takes time. It takes a minimum of 21 days to form a habit, according to Dr. Maxwell Maltz.

Malcom Gladwell says it takes 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to become exceptionally skilled at something. So why do we expect ourselves to learn how to half halt and be able to do it well in a single ride? Or perfect our position in one lesson? We often criticize ourselves for not grasping something immediately; yet when we look at our peers, we cheer them on for minor improvements.

We are also usually better at rewarding our horses for small steps in the right direction than we are ourselves. We build the try, celebrate their successes, and forgive them when they make a mistake. But we struggle to apply these same compassions inwardly.

Showing can bring out the best and the worst in perfectionists. Shows give us something to strive toward, and a standard to measure ourselves against. They can inspire us to work hard and pursue goals. They hold us accountable to our training at home.

They can also be a source of self-torture. When we compare ourselves to others, we can lose sight of our own journey and progress. When the focus becomes about a number, like a dressage score, we get fixated on that versus on what we are gaining from the experience. We can forget about our own personal journey with our horse and start comparing ourselves to others.

The thing about riding horses is, there is never a direct comparison possible. Every single human and every single horse’s journey through life is different. We all have different personalities, families, upbringings, education, and life circumstances. These differences make it impossible to compare one horse and rider combo against another.

Even if we ride at the same barn, train with the same coach, go to the same shows, we all have an individualized combination of factors. As a result, your 63% and someone else’s 63% can mean two completely different things. While we all love a first-place ribbon, that ribbon doesn’t mean you’re better than the second-place winner. It simply means that your combination of experiences led you to that score at that point in time. This applies in reverse, also, if you have the lowest score of the day.

Because of this, we need to look not at where we are compared to others, but at where we are within our own journey. Productive measurements for success aren’t scores. They’re an evaluation of the steps we have taken to get there. Are we working toward our goals? Are we training and acting with integrity? Are we empathetic toward our horses, our peers, and ourselves? Are we evaluating what we’ve done well and what we haven’t, and taking steps toward improving the things we could do better?

Many dressage riders have a minimum score they want to achieve in a test, especially before moving up a level. This can be a great thing, to ensure your horse is ready before advancing a level. But the key is to pick a goal for you and your horse individually, not simply what you see as a good score at a show.

I used to want to score 70's before moving up a level. That quickly changed with Lacey once we started moving up the levels, as I began to realize she was not a horse who would score 7's consistently at the higher levels due to her gaits. We did score some 7's, but to pull off a 70% we would need 7 on every single movement, or higher on some to balance out the occasional lower score if we had a mistake.

As anyone who's ridden or watched a dressage test knows, there's always room for improvement - even at the Olympics. While we scored some 7's, there were also scores above and below that. To balance out those fluctuations we would have needed a lot more 7.5's and 8's.

We scored in the 70's at Intro and Training Level, but I quickly came to realize once we started collected work I would have to be happy with mid-sixties if I didn't want to stay at Training Level our whole life. Once we hit FEI, I had to lower my expectations again, since the collected work is a real struggle for her compared to a short-backed horse with an uphill build. We had scores in the 60's, and even 50's.

This was a big learning for me. I had to stop focusing on the number, and start focusing on my horse. How did the ride feel? Did we perform to the best of our ability? Where could I improve my execution to improve our performance? What could I focus on at home in our training to increase our marks to the best of Lacey's capabilities, versus trying to go for that elusive 7?

Lacey has taught me a lot over the years, due to her conformation and movement being that of a hunter, not a dressage horse. She has taught me an incredible amount about developing a horse up the levels, as well as how to help a horse who is not naturally talented at something to become the best athlete they can. But she has also taught me a lot about competitions being a learning tool versus a measurement.

When we compete, we need to aim to get the best scores our horse is currently capable of, not the best scores of the show. While we all love being at the top of the leaderboard, the reality is, not every horse moves like Glamourdale.

I've signed up for more of this with my two new Spanish crosses, as Spanish horses do not have the same type of gaits as the dressage-bred Warmbloods, and tend to score lower on tests as a result. I can't go into a show with them expecting to win against a Warmblood imported from Germany, when their gaits do not look anything like that. Where a Warmblood might score an 8 on their gaits, a Spanish horse could be a 7 or even a 6.

We can improve these scores by training them well; teaching them proper biomechanics and healthy posture so that they move to the best of their ability. They may start out as a 6, and become a 7. But the Warmblood who's trained the same way and starts as a 7 could turn into an 8. We need to be realistic in the goals we set as a result and base them on the individual not the collective.

All you can do is all you can do, but all you can do is enough, as Art Williams said. Perfectionists tend to be their own harshest critics. No one else cares as much about your results as you do. They also don’t care as much about your failures. Everyone is so busy trying to get their own ducks in a row they generally don’t have time to worry about yours. And so what if they do? Remind yourself of this anonymous quote: “What other people think of me is none of my business.”

At Lacey's very first show we competed at Intro. Her first test we scored a 47%. The photographer snapped a photo from behind the flowers at B as we were walking toward her, and Lacey thought the clicking of the camera was the flowers. She stopped dead, petrified. That led to many stops and refusals to move forward throughout the test as she analyzed everything she saw, scared it would click.

We walked in a lot of the trot parts, and added many halts, but we made it around the ring. The subsequent test was a 72%. I was just as happy with the 47% though, because she trusted me enough to keep going despite her terror. I've had many an FEI test with a score in the 50's or low 60's that I was equally happy with, because she tried her best for me.

A fellow coach once said to me that another coach told her it's very hard to ride a clean FEI test. I came to learn this to be very true; at that level, it's very hard to get through an entire test without at least one mistake. But even at the lower levels, a "perfect" test is hard to ride. Whether your horse shakes their head at a fly, gets momentarily distracted by a passer-by, or turns a little too quick off your aid, blips are a part of almost every test. Learning to ride through these things is part of the great lessons of showing.

It took me years how to learn to ride the horse I was on in the ring, instead of the test. To ride from stride to stride and half-halt to half-halt, instead of riding the pattern. To take the stutters and fix them, schooling my horse in the moment, instead of trying to just hang on and get through the movement. As a result, showing has taught me how to be a more effective rider. To ask and allow, not just hang on and try to get through the ride.

I also learned that if 7's were the mark we could achieve if we executed a movement perfectly, aiming for a 70% overall wasn't realistic, since we would inevitably have some blips in our test. I have yet to see a horse make it through an entire test without any bobbles in rhythm; the best tests are the ones where the rider catches and corrects it almost instantaneously.

Even if you are great at riding proactively, you can't control every stride and simultaneously allow your horse to be in self-carriage. Part of the beauty of dressage done well is complete harmony, where the rider and horse move as one. This level of harmony doesn't happen when the horse is micromanaged and held together, only when the horse is developed in self-carriage and allowed to move fully through their body and express themselves naturally.

When we are riding in true self-carriage, allowing our horse the freedom to move fluidly with natural self-expression, they're half the partnership. Blips will happen, but we work as a team to minimize and resolve them. Horses ridden in this way learn to love their work and showing, and it shows in how they perform in the ring. I'd rather have a horse who makes a mistake because they try too hard than one I have to hold together around the ring so they don't falter.

When I took Carino to his first show this month, my only goal was for him to build confidence in himself and his ability so he would have fun there. I didn't care about the scores, or executing the test. I wanted him to learn how fun it could be to go somewhere new and move through his body. We achieved that, and once he got over his fear of the judge's booth etc., he was pretty excited to strut his stuff.

I didn't try to sit in a textbook perfect position, I rode with wide hands when I needed to help support him and steer. I rode the transitions in the general vicinity of the test requirements, when he felt balanced not when we were at a letter. I praised him softly throughout the test, even if the judge might hear. His experience meant more than a score.

At the end of the day, how we feel about ourselves is what really matters. The problem comes when we harshly judge ourselves. We need to remember to speak kindly to ourselves, not just to others. We need to look at our successes, not just our supposed failures. A happy horse who's having a blast in the show ring means far more to me than any percentage.

When it comes to showing, we need to get out of the mindset of winning vs losing. I think the more important thing to consider is, are you winning or are you learning? Shows are just a stepping stone in a journey. Even world-famous riders who’ve won gold at the Olympics don’t quit after. They keep riding, keep learning, keep trying to get better.

When it comes to riding, we need to set loose, flexible goals. You never know what your horse is going to be like on any given day. We can aim toward something, but there are many factors we cannot control that will affect the timeline and the journey to get there. Learning to be flexible and adapt is one of the greatest skills a rider can have.

Horses don’t fit in any single box, and they are constantly changing and evolving as are we. Because of this, we need to not only be adaptable in our methods, we also need to adjust our measurements of success accordingly. What may have been your goal at the start of the show season could be very different by the end.

This is part of the evolution of riders. While we may never achieve 100% perfection, we get perfect moments. Sometimes they’re very fleeting; just one stride that feels absolutely brilliant, then we lose it again. The key to improvement is to string more and more of those moments together. The perfect moments are what inspire us, reward us, and keep us coming back for more.

When a show doesn’t go the way you’d hoped, instead of looking at the numbers, look at what you learned. What have you gained from the experience? What did you learn about your horse, your training, your riding, your outlook? When we can learn more about our horses and ourselves, that itself is the win.