23 Mar The Masterful Student #9
There’s a comment a rider made to me about another trainer that initially struck me as rather cold, but that I later reconsidered.
“Well, she’s only trained one horse to Grand Prix.” Casually tossed out, I thought, for an endeavor that takes years and depends on a great deal of luck and opportunity. Not to mention the financial investment in horse care, coaching, and showing.
There are more Grand Prix horses now than there have ever been in history, due to better breeding, better riding and training, and better veterinary care. However, a Grand Prix horse is still a rarified being, an extraordinary level of achievement, a tiny percentage of all dressage riders and an even tinier percentage of all horses being ridden in general.
Grand Prix dressage is arguably the most sophisticated thing you can do with a horse. This test of highest achievement is the test we ride at national shows, the same as on the biggest world stage, the Olympics. Being able to complete the test with some modicum of success is a feat in and of itself.
On one hand, there can be many reasons why someone doesn’t bring another horse to Grand Prix. There is the long time commitment, during which any injury, financial issue, or personal crisis might hamper the process. Not every horse is a real candidate, however, no one knows how far a horse will get up the training ladder either. One has to simply keep training in good faith with sound fundamentals and see how it goes. A common threshold is of course third level, when the flying change appears, but early work in training the collected canter can give some hints on a horse’s future ability and work ethic. And, there are many horses who can do one or two of the Grand Prix movements but can’t put a whole test together.
On the other hand, a horse and rider pair could have been a one-off. There is a metaphysical element to horse training, and occasionally an idiosyncratic relationship or method of training does result in Grand Prix performances. But a solid training system has to demonstrate repeatable success. Technique is what makes or breaks a trainer/rider in the long term as he or she seeks to prove themselves and train another Grand Prix horse.
I don’t think that we can deny the pressure to produce an upper level horse, in a very competitive market with very similarly qualified riders. The drive to get to Grand Prix and demonstrate competency at the uppermost level is as motivating for someone trying to make a go of it in this business as it is for a professor to get their PhD. And takes approximately the same amount of time! One could now get into the discussion of people who compete at FEI on someone else’s horse or buy a made horse, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.
The experience of training more than one Grand Prix horse lets you examine your own techniques and methods, and test yourself with another horse’s personality and conformation. You are also testing your coach’s system and theory, ideally with sound ethics.
These days, I have the great privilege of regularly riding the Grand Prix movements on Roman. I ride him first in the day because it informs my entire day of schooling horses of lower levels. They may be three year olds just working on basic gaits, but there’s an echo in my bones of Roman’s work. I ride the others and think of the building blocks of impulsion, straightness, engagement, future collection. I feel the gulf of understanding between young horses and FEI work, and it makes me curious.
The odd thing about riding the Grand Prix work routinely is that for the first time in a horse’s life, he doesn’t have to learn anything new. He has to polish his work, be obedient, stay sound mentally and physically, but you and the horse have reached the pinnacle. The work is satisfying and rewarding, but it’s not the same as the sudden joy that I feel when a developing horse starts to grasp a new concept and responds with clear understanding. It’s like receiving a gift you knew was coming, yet somehow the moment is still a thrill.
