Episode 9: What Are You Rushing Toward?

You ask your horse for the trot. He starts to answer. And before he can quite get there, you ask again. And again. And maybe you add a little tap for good measure.

Sound familiar? You're not alone. And it's not your fault.

In this episode, Kristi unpacks why so many of us ride the way we live — three steps ahead, already onto the next thing, talking over the horse who is trying so hard to answer the question we just asked.

Inside this episode:

— Why the most present creature you'll ever work with is being ridden by the least present version of you

— The math class moment that will change the way you think about every aid you give

— The one question to ask yourself before every ride that quietly changes everything

— What you'd actually lose if you slowed down by ten percent (spoiler: not what you think)

— The simple challenge to try this week that will soften your horse, your hands, and probably something in your chest

If you've ever felt like your rides are louder than they need to be, or like your horse is just a little checked out, this one's for you.

Take the free three-minute quiz at theritesystem.com to find out where you and your horse are at right now and what to work on next.

You belong here. We get it.

Transcript

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Welcome back to the Hear Your Horse podcast. I'm your host, Christy Newman. Okay, so I'm standing in the ring the other day watching a lesson, and the rider asks her horse for the truck. Leg on, soft aid, lovely. And he starts to answer. You can feel him gathering himself underneath her, getting ready to step into the trop. And before he can quite get there, she asks again, a little more leg, then a little tap, then a little squeeze on top of that. Meanwhile, the horse is going, hang on. I I was just about to. I was right there. So I said, Hey, pop quiz. What was he doing the second before you asked the second time for the trot? She thinks about it, she goes, Oh, he was already on his way, wasn't he? Yep, he was already trotting in his head. He just hadn't gotten the message to his feet yet. And here's the fun part. Once she saw it, she couldn't unsee it. Every transition for the rest of the lesson, she caught herself starting to ask twice and went, nope, he's got it. I'll wait. And every single time he answered beautifully, on his own. Here's the thing. I've been marinating on lately. We are in such a hurry, all of us. And I want you to ask yourself something, just for fun, no pressure. What are you rushing towards? Like, actually, if you trace the rush back, where does it end? Because I'll tell you where it ends. It ends at the end. That's the only finish line that's guaranteed for all of us. The end of life. So when you're on your horse and you are rushing the warm-up to get to the real work in quotations, and you're rushing the real work to get to the canter, and you're rushing the canter because you want to jump, and you're rushing the jump because you want to do the course, and you're rushing the course because you want the ribbon, and you want the ribbon because you want to feel like you got somewhere. Where exactly are you trying to get to? Horses do not rush. Horses do not have a five-year plan. Horses are not checking their watch. A horse is the most present creature you will ever meet. And the magic happens when we meet them there. The horse is the standard. If a horse could talk, the horse would say, I'm here, come hang out with me. Okay, I want you to picture this with me. You're back in school, you're in math class. The teacher says, What is two plus two? And you as a student go to answer. And before you can get the words out, she asks again, What is two plus two? And you go to answer. And she asks again. You open your mouth to answer, and now she goes, What is seven times nine? Would you be a little frustrated? Of course you would. You came to class, you knew the answer. She just wouldn't let you say it. That, my friend, is what your horse feels when you ask a question and don't quite wait for the answer. You ask for the trot, and before he can step into it, you're already asking again. You ask for the bend, and before he can find it in his body, you've moved on. You ask for the halt, and before he can fully arrive, you're squeezing for the walk. Riding is a conversation. The most beautiful rides happen when both of you get to talk. The second you let the horse answer, the second you wait, breathe, let him finish his sentence, the whole ride changes. He softens, you soften, there's a rhythm instead of a monologue, and honestly, it's so much more fun. So here's what I want to leave you with. If you slowed down by like 10% today, what would you actually lose? Not what would you feel like you'd lost, but what would you actually lose? Because most of the time, the answer is nothing. You'd lose the feeling of being busy and important, and you'd gain a horse who actually wants to be in the conversation with you. Slow down to speed up. I say it all the time, and I mean it more every year. Your horse is not a checklist, your ride is not a race, and your life, your one wild, precious life is not a to-do list to grind through so you can finally relax at the end. There is no end you want to rush towards. I promise you that. So this week, here's what I want you to try. One ride, just one. Ask a question, and then wait for your horse to answer before you ask the next one. Just like you'd want in math class, give him room to finish his sentence. See what happens. I bet you a coffee, your horse softens. I bet you your hands get quieter. I bet you something in your chest unclenches that you didn't even know was clenched. And if you want to know more about how this whole conversation thing works, the timing, the listening, the way your horse is talking to you when you finally slow down enough to hear them, go take the quiz at theresystem.com. I'll tell you where, it'll tell you where and you are, where your horse is right now, and what to work on next. No pressure, no homework, just really clear picture. You belong here. We get it. We're all rushing towards something, and the horses are here very patiently waiting for us to figure out that there was nowhere to go. I'll see you next week.