Training in the Right Way: Where Language Fails Us in Training
Language is a funny thing, being simultaneously necessary and unavoidably imperfect…
In this week’s article I want to discuss a few of the ways in which language fails us in training, why we need to recognize this, how to work within it, and what it means for the training process.
Dressage training is supposed to be the process of training ANY horse to be a better riding horse. The more the horse learns, in theory, the easier it is to communicate with and therefore complete more complex tasks with. Although competition dressage training often is more focused on training for the dressage test, that is not what the original intention (and original judging requirements) were for competitive dressage. Initially, it was designed to give riders and trainers a way to determine how their training measured up to the theoretical ideal of the training process. That said, it is critically important to understand the meanings and reasons for some of the terms we use to describe dressage training and what to look for when observing training and competition (and videos and photos), regardless of whether you intend to compete or just train your horse to be a better whatever you do with him. That, ultimately, is the main purpose of my articles. To provide education and knowledge for riders to understand and improve their eye and understanding of what dressage training is supposed to be. While there will always be some differences in practice and theory, good horse training is always recognizable to the educated eye. That said, it absolutely is necessary that we remember and understand that limited knowledge is limited judgment.
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In this week’s article I want to discuss a few of the ways in which language fails us in training, why we need to recognize this, how to work within it, and what it means for the training process.
Often, for most riders, the transition from learning the terminology and theory of suppleness, submission, and self-carriage, to understanding the nuances of these, how they feel, and then applying them to their training and own riding, seems to be nothing short of voodoo or some other magical, miraculous achievement that only hyper-talented beings are somehow born with or master through some form of the dark arts. I promise the latter is untrue (although I’m also not ruling out the efficacy of said practices).
As a dressage instructor, one is constantly faced with the challenge of explaining to the rider multiple abstract concepts that are meant to convey very subtle, actions and feelings that verbal language consistently falls short in explaining. This is particularly true when discussing how to give aids such as those used for half-halts and suppling (though it’s not limited to just these). To further complicate things, until a rider has experienced these things in action, their understanding of them is somewhat limited to the theory. The unhappy reality here is that words cannot always accurately describe the feelings, application of the aids, or the sensations that the horse’s response gives the rider, but, as they’re all we have to work with, we must make do at least up to the point that the rider understands enough to start to experience the concept (how it feels and its effect) and can fully begin to internalize and implement it.
Keeping that in mind, consider that good riding, not just good dressage training, in its most basic and fundamental form is the art of the rider not only not disrupting the horse’s natural balance, but giving aids that the horse can understand and respond to that enhance the horse’s balance and improve its ability to perform the activities being asked of it. This can only be achieved if the horse is on the aids, which is only possible if the horse is supple (enough). Which of course means we need to understand concepts like suppleness in order to try and create them. In dressage training, we have a saying that “all submissive horses are supple, but not all supple horses are submissive.” This is one of those places where language falls short.
Osceola, a 5 yr old KWPN gelding in working trot. Young horses need more help from their riders to maintain their balance under saddle. Photo (c) Gwyneth McPherson
The words “submission” or “submissive” give the impression of “submitting” or “giving in.” It often has a negative connotation because it almost immediately implies that force is necessary, maybe it is even tinged with a bit of fear or a lack of self-will or happiness within the work. None of that, however, is precisely what we mean. Instead, when we discuss “submission,” what we actually mean is “on the aids.” On the aids is when the horse is educated and supple enough to recognize familiar aids and anticipate (yes, anticipate) what the rider is asking for. When the horse has achieved enough of this education, we say that the horse has learned self-carriage. Self-carriage is another potentially troublesome concept; it does not mean that the horse does the work by himself, without the rider’s input, even though on the surface that’s what the words would seem to imply. Instead, it means that the horse has the understanding and training to recognize and perform certain activities by the rider’s aids, and actually looks to the rider for assistance in performing these exercises.
Black Velvet in cadenced trot, and in self-carriage. Photo (c) Gwyneth McPherson
So, here we are, at that intersection of ‘ok, I think I understand the concept—even though the words fall short of conveying the entirety of the experience— but what does it feel like?’ The words I just used attempt to explain it, and even though they can help define the idea of the thing, they are not the thing itself; they do not convey what it feels like, or how to train the horse to be supple, on the aids, and in self-carriage. This is exactly why there is so much discussion and disagreement about what is acceptable in riding and training techniques: because language is not the entirety of the knowledge, there’s a physical, experiential aspect as well that has to be learned and combined with the theory.
It also explains why force keeps creeping into the top levels of competition and into the lowest levels of riding and everywhere in between. When a rider doesn’t understand the entirety of a concept or training principle— including the more nuanced physical aspects— and the horse is then not able to discern what the rider’s aids mean (either by poor application of the aids, or by lack of education of the horse), and/or the horse is physically too stiff to perform what is being requested, the horse is considered resistant and the rider often then functions by riding with a more corrective mindset rather than a proactive one. Usually, though the rider does not intend to be abusive or cruel, this is how the line gets crossed. Where knowledge ends, force begins—which is precisely why it is so important to note the limitations of language alone and recognize when you start riding correctively and reactively rather than proactively with an eye towards doing the things that will help your horse not only understand what you’re asking, but also to be in a physical place that allows them to actually perform the exercise.
Just as there’s a tendency for riders to initially have difficulty pairing the verbal theory with the physical knowledge, I also find that often riders will overreact to certain feelings and underreact to others. And, at the same time, many riders will focus on one aid, or one aspect of their horse’s way of going, or their equitation, to the exclusion of all the other equally important qualities and actions that are occurring at the same time. This is not only problematic as these things are all interconnected, but also because doing so often results in the rider giving an overly large, corrective aid (in response to the one thing they’re hyper focused on) that disrupts all the other good things that were going on up to that point that they simply weren’t paying attention to. This is detrimental to the training process as a whole.
Unfortunately for our human brains—which are very good at compartmentalizing—, riding horses does not allow for focusing on mastering a single skill at a time as horses cannot compartmentalize in the way that people can. They can only react to their environment, which includes the person sitting on them. If the rider is only focused on their seat bones today, or just the left bend, or making the perfectly round circle, the horse is left to his own devices to fill in the rest of the gaps and the rider isn’t doing their job keeping the horse on the aids.
Riding a horse “on the aids” is a constant process of doing enough to influence the horse to stay in balance, and not do so much to take the balance away. Photo (c) Gwyneth McPherson
All of which brings us back to our initial discussion about language and its pitfalls. As you have probably discerned from this article, training a horse to BE on the aids, supple, and in self-carriage is not only difficult to explain, but also nearly impossible to understand and effectively implement without essentially trying to do so. It is a process of gaining the physical knowledge and feeling in order to become proficient, and absolutely cannot be learned without years of practice and riding many different horses while under excellent instruction. This scenario is the key to gaining the knowledge necessary to train effectively and the emotional maturity to ride using said knowledge rather than resorting to force. For our sport going forward– if we indeed do want it to continue going forward– we need the next generation of trainers and riders to embrace training with the knowledge of what it means to ride on the aids, in suppleness, and with self-carriage, rather than relying on riding with strength and force.
Remember: Limited knowledge is limited judgment.
Gwyneth and Flair in competition at Grand Prix. (c) flatlandsfoto.
Gwyneth McPherson has over 35 years experience competing, training, and teaching dressage. She began her education in in the late 1970s, riding in her backyard on an 11 hh pony. Her first instructor introduced her to Lendon Gray (1980 and 1988 Olympian). who mentored Gwyneth for a decade during which she achieved her first National Championship in 1984, and her Team and Individual Young Rider Gold Medals in1987.
In 1990 Gwyneth began training with Carol Lavell (1992 Olympian) who further developed Gwyneth as an FEI rider and competitor. Gwyneth achieved a Team Bronze in 1991 and a Team Silver in 1992 in the North American Young Riders Championships, and trained her stallion G’Dur to do all the Grand Prix movements while riding with Carol.
In 2008, while Head Trainer at Pineland Farms, Gwyneth began training with Michael Poulin (Olympian 1992). Michael was trained by Franz Rochowansky (Chief Rider for the Spanish Riding School 1937-1955). Michael has shared much of Rochowansky’s knowledge and wisdom with Gwyneth, completing her education as a Grand Prix rider, trainer, and competitor.
Gwyneth’s teaching and training business, Forward Thinking Dressage,is based in Williston, FL. In addition to teaching riders and training, Gwyneth also loves sharing her knowledge of the sport and art of dressage as well as discussing relevant topics pertaining to the training itself and the current competitive landscape.
