12/01/2022
Sixty-Four Years Later
In 1955. I cleaned stalls at the race track early morning before school in exchange for the privilege of riding a horse. I was allowed to do the early phase of the training, the walk, the trot, and the first slow canter. Then, we walked in a circle around the trainer, and the exercise jokey rode the horse I was on for the fast work. One morning in 1958. The trainer was distracted and gave me fast work orders. I believe I graduated and picked up the canter in absolute happiness. It was a mistake. I did not graduate, and the horse I rode was very strong and violent. Only two strong exercise jockeys could handle him.
A horse stiffens the back to increase its speed, and the belief on the race track is that pulling on the reins makes the horse canter faster. In my opinion, pulling was not acceptable. I regarded pulling on the reins as abuse. I was already a typical rider. I did not know much, I had little experience, but I had an opinion.
As I left the group at the canter, the trainer realized his error, and they were screaming to stop me thinking that the horse would kill me. I was already too far away to hear them. I was supposed to go slow from one point of the race track to another reference. Then accelerate the canter until another reference, sustain a slower canter until another point, accelerate at maximum speed until another point, keep going at a slower canter until another reference, and then walk back to the group.
In my naïve mind, pulling was brutal, and not pulling was gentle. I liked the horse and believed that if I did not pull on him, he would not pull on me. I did not pull, and he did not pull back. I did to the letter what the trainer asked me to do. I walked back to the group, and they were silent, looking at me as if I were an alien. The trainer said, “I can’t believe it.” Another jockey commented, “He has the hand.” My nickname became “The Hand.” I did not say that I did not pull; as I would have been fired. From this day, I graduated as an exercise jockey.
In their mind, I was pulling on the reins as they could not conceive that it could be another way. They wondered where I got the strength and decided it was due to my gymnastic training. I was very small, as you can see in the picture of the gymnastics team. I am the one at the front of the line. One jokey was skeptical, telling the trainer. I don’t think that he can make the horse go to his fastest speed. The trainer considered the hypothesis and decided to chronometer the horse during the fast-speed session. The trainer chromometer his horses regularly and had the references. I was concerned as I cantered toward the section where I would have to go at maximum speed. I observed the lateral and transversal motion of the horse’s vertebral column at the canter, even at speed. I theorized that if I could reduce the lateral movements, the horse would canter faster, even without pulling on the reins. Basically, I channeled the forces, and the horse went faster than his previous records. I graduated to become the difficult horse’s exercise jockey. I believed the horse went faster because I was lighter than his usual jockey. However, I was encouraged that the horse did not lose speed with my technique, and I explored more efficient body coordination.
Sixty-Four Years later. Betsy and Michelle explained why it worked. I channeled the energy in one direction. Without knowing it, I counter-spiraled the spirals. I did not stiffen my body to the point of rigidity. I created enough tone to minimize the lateral and transversal forces the horse’s movements induced in my body. I created a dynamic corridor. It worked both ways. I observed that the horse cantered more easily at maximum speed when I applied the same technique. The skeptical jockey told the trainer, “I don’t understand how he does it. When the horse is fast, he does not move.” Betsy and Michelle explained today in the PAB course why it worked. It worked for the race horses, the three-day events horses, the jumpers, and the dressage horses.
Early in my relationship with horses, I learned that as useful as the paradigm might be, it is not infallible. I learned that others would rather believe in some mystic power than try to understand deeper. My nickname was “The Hand,” and it explained everything. The skeptical jockey repeated often, I don’t understand how it works; at full speed, this guy does not move!” the answer was “The Hand”. This human aspect has not changed. I have evolved considerably since these early days. I was willing to explain when I developed enough knowledge to be able to provide a rational answer, but most people don’t want to know. What delighted me, the search for a better way annoyed them.
I met extraordinary riders who did what I did. Not the same finding, but they went further than the teaching of the classical equitation, but they did not analyze themselves and could not explain.
I was afraid of the skeptical jockey. In my mind, he was critical because he knew. It took me years to realize that it is the opposite; the less people know, the more critical they are.
In The PAB course, IHTC, and now the Simple course, Betsy and Michelle explain the science, and the clarity of the scientific explanations helps to understand that straightness is not the shoulders in front of the haunches. Straightness is a dynamic corridor. I did not stiffen my body to the point of rigidity; I resisted and channeled forward the forces that the horse’s motion induced in my body. Ten years ago, I would have talked about two lines of muscles in my back. Today, I know that straightness is a game of spiral and counter spiral, thanks to Betsy and Michelle.
Jean Luc
