How are the half-halts coming? Does a breath and a light thigh pulse work? Or are your legs exhausted by the end of the ride? Is your horse dull to your leg aids? And by that I mean, have you nagged him into a stupor? (There I go blaming the rider again.)
This first question is deceptive: Are your legs and seat soft in the saddle? Can you tell? It isn’t as easy as it sounds because it’s instinct, once our feet have let go of the earth, to grab on with our legs, thighs tight, and calves tense. It’s a reflex and if we’re a bit timid, then even more so.
Be clear: Instinct and intuition tell us to hold on with our legs. It’s the wrong thing to do, but we come by it honestly. Not that it matters to your horse.
The problem with tense legs is that it means that your sit-bones aren’t deep in the saddle, but rather suspending you slightly above the saddle, making a disconnect between you and your horse. To maintain that position, your shoulders want to come forward and your knees want to hold. As your balance changes, your horse might slow up, thinking you aren’t stable. He’s right, but you might not be aware of much of this. You’re busy using your horse as a ThighMaster –and rock hard thighs is not the message of lightness and relaxation you mean to send your horse.
Surprise! Your horse doesn’t want to go forward. We’ve been taught to kick. Or we’re frustrated, so we kick. There’s no response, because it all feels bad to your horse. So you kick harder; your leg never rests. If that doesn’t work, you try spurs (not the real purpose of spurs, by the way) and a whip (not the real purpose for a whip, either.) So, you complain that your horse is lazy and won’t go forward.
At least you have kind hands. Well, you don’t. If the rest of your body is tense and fighting, your hands are doing the same, which means you’re hurting his mouth. No wonder he isn’t moving forward. And you aren’t breathing in any more air than a chicken. But some jerk has told you that you can’t lose this fight because if your horse doesn’t respect you, all is lost. So you double down.
What do I see from the ground? Your horse is mirroring you. His back is tense and his neck is stiff. As you kick, your thighs tense, pushing you farther out of the saddle. With that extra weight on his withers, he resists more. None of this is good, but worst of all, as your aids get stronger and bigger, I begin to see his ribs tense, and the muscle that runs from his armpit to his flank seizes up. He’s defending himself by tensing his ribs. Defending himself from your leg and your seat. He has no idea what you are asking now; he’s isn’t breathing either.
This was never your intention. You know your horse is sensitive enough to be bothered by flies. He probably feels your legs more than you do. There was an instant where things started to snowball to adversarial; so quick you don’t remember making that choice. A rider is always cuing either relaxation or tension.
Finally, do your horse a favor and show some real leadership. Just stop. Release the reins. Say Good Boy because you attacked him like a mountain lion and he had more patience for you, than you did for him.
Consider doing yin yoga. Become familiar with the Butterfly Pose. Sitting or laying down, soles of feet together, and let your knees open; breathe and let gravity do the work. It will feel tight but you’ll just sit with that. Let an eternity pass. Like two whole minutes.
Your horse doesn’t care about yoga, but if you were inadvertently giving him a halt cue with your thighs (you were), then you need to be introduced to the muscles he feels all the time.
Next ride, if your horse is safe, and naturally, you have your helmet on, begin your ride at the walk without stirrups. Feel your legs long and let your sit-bones move with your horse’s back. Let your hip flexor, or more specifically, your psoas muscle, become fluid and soft. The front of your body opens and your heels hang directly below your shoulder, perfect. Feel your feet heavy and your ankles soft.
As your horse walks, your legs flow with the movement of his flank. It’s a slight sway that travels from your sit-bones through your waist, up to your shoulders, and down to your toenails. You could carry an egg under your knee without breaking it. You don’t move more than your horse does, but most of all, you don’t brace your legs against his movement.
When you finally do put your foot into your stirrup, you’ll notice that it feels constrictive. Yes, a stirrup does make a foot brace a bit, but your job is to continue as if you weren’t using a stirrup. Let your weight be on the outside edge of your foot, almost bow-legged. Your leg should feel as light and loose as a bird wing on his flanks.
Now the process of asking your horse to respond to your leg can begin. He’s gone dead on his sides because the pressure never stopped. Now use tiny cues. Inhale and ask him to walk on. If he moves one step and stops, reward him. Refuse to demean him, and yourself, by nagging.
Ask for a bit more. Jiggle your ankle but don’t use muscles. Let the movement feel like a buzzing bug to him. Think energy, not force. Then reward him again, for giving you a chance to do better.
This is about successive approximation. He’s still waiting for you to kick hard and that trust needs healing. So you reward anything that is an approximately the direction you want to go, while refusing to fight. Once he starts walking, follow his body naturally, but stop cuing. Trust him to do his job without nagging. Let him stride on; let your legs rest. In a few strides, just using your sit-bones, ask for longer strides and when he does that, stop cuing and let him carry it on. Now the two of you are conversing politely.
In order for a horse to be responsive to your leg, your leg has to do less. It’s counter intuitive –just like everything else about riding.
0 thoughts on “What Are Your Legs Doing? (Half-halt Help)”
Thank you Anna!!! That issue is one that really needs to be addressed by each human getting on a horse who aspires to be called a rider.
Thanks, Charlotte. Riding is an art.
This is an excellent article. I learned to ride bareback as a child, so gripping with my legs was a problem for quite a while. Now, at 66, that butterfly pose isn’t very pretty but I will try.
How may I share this blog with a friend who has been working riding without irons? I think she is gearing up for spring to keep two ponies going. We have had a rough winter. Reading your articles has helped keep me thinking about being in the saddle again.
Oh, I don’t think the butterfly pose is pretty at any age…
You can hit the F button at the end and post to her facebook page, or cut and paste from the address bar to an email…
Started reading your blog when every horse I rode kept stopping with me and my trainer was telling me I didn’t try “hard” enough. This blog states exactly what was happening to me….and now….three years later and different trainer….my mare and I did flying lead changes flawlessly, did roll back and change of direction perfectly, and every other maneuver my trainer asked me to do with ease. What a RUSH!!!!! I still don’t have it solidly, but yesterday was one of those fabulous days! THANKS! I finally figured out in my head AND body that “hard” wasn’t necessarily stronger!!!
It’s a tough lesson for us humans! Good for you; sounds like a great ride! Thanks, Suzanne.
Another thoughtful and useful post, Anna. My horse and I thank you!
You and your horse are very welcome.
Wow. For a beginner this is helpful. One question: how do you make her strides longer just using seat bones?
Thank you. I so look forward to your weekly blog/photo!
Usually thinking it is enough… lift your sit-bones a bit higher and slower…almost exaggerate in slow motion. Then back to the normal walk. Then ask for smaller steps, in a way that makes sense. Then notice that your horse is listening to your seat, more sweetly than he will ever listen to your hands. Have fun out there, Dana.
What a wonderful reminder!!! I can get so focused on a task or line and get tenser and tighter in my body without realizing it. One of my horses whom I was advised to kick forward was so tight in his ribs from all my attempts to squeeze him forward that he couldn’t do it. When I “let go” of wanting to make him go forward, he all of a sudden started to move all by himself. I just have to remind myself all the time to relax and have less “intent” in my body – this can be so hard for me as I try to do everything right.
Oy, when trying too hard to do the right thing makes things worse… counter intuitive. I always suggest my clients ride like they don’t care. The other word for that is “acting.” Great comment!
I love love love the way you describe these things Anna
Thank you, my pleasure; I do work at it.
Thank you for another thought provoking post! I have been reading & rereading, digesting and practicing ( relaxed and forward) on the lovely horse I ride each week. Lesson horses are a special “breed”, nobly tolerating various riders day in and day out. My hope is that she realizes that when we are together, she can breathe easy, relax and enjoy our time together. She has been truly patient with me as I learn…happy to be forever a beginner. ?
As another forever student, I understand. And yes, school horses are saints. Thanks Barbara.
SAINTS, yes, perfect description!
I’ve mulled this one over a lot since I read it and spent most of a 14km hack trying to apply it yesterday.
Wouldn’t you know, it let me figure out that I’ve been riding with my legs in slightly the wrong position forever? The knots up the outside of my lower leg went away. I had less knee pain when trotting, better stamina when hand galloping and today my ankles aren’t inflamed.
At the end of the ride my knees didn’t ache, my legs were softly molded around the horse and seat ‘plugged in’. Considering the state of my knees and the work we did, its pretty remarkable.
Oh my! Thank you so much for this comment… it is amazing to feel such a difference. It says a lot about the power of your mind to assimilate and focus… to be aware of things that were habit and change that. I notice that’s about the hardest thing to accomplish in lessons; it’s always harder to relearn than to learn the first time. That said, you flatter me. So happy for you and your knees.
I’m a rider in her fifties who has returned to lessons. I feel that in my haste to ‘get to the canter’ to see if I can do it, I missed so many steps along the way. I’m currently back-tracking, and with the help of an experienced friend, starting to learn all these important things that I just didn’t get. Thanks for this post, it helps tremendously.
I frequently tell riders, especially working on fundamentals at the walk, that we’re working on the canter… there are so many bricks supporting the foundation… sounds like you found some loose ones. (And you wouldn’t be the first rider to rush to the canter) Glad you are circling back to get steady. Perceptive comment, Barb, thanks.
I was looking at video of a big curly rescue mare and she was pushing her nose out in the are. I had noticed that the little volunteer rider was very stiff and looking down. I would think that stiffness would be cuEing that mare to be stiff as well.
I can’t see the video, of course, but what I notice is that it usually doesn’t matter who starts the problem– horse or rider. It matters who helps it… Thanks, Kathy.
Thank you, Anna, another piece of platinum advice. I have begun to think ‘lightness now, lightness’ once I slide gently into the saddle. Jack knows what a half-halt is — my instructor trained him. However, I have taken it to the vocal level. “Half Halt…now trot…” and he knows right away. No leg or other aids, just words. His ears flick back and forth when I say, ‘half halt’.
An instructor told me to stop talking to my horse — that he would ‘tune me out’.
He doesn’t. He tunes out when someone applies too much leg. Talking to him keeps him calm, centered, and he knows all his cues.
We need to listen more as well.
Thanks for commenting, Nuala.