Last night, at the end of a busy teaching day, I sat on the mounting block bursting with pride, remembering once again, why I love coaching so much.
Just a few months ago a lovely lady plucked up the courage to come for a lesson with me. I say courage because it was exactly that. She had been quietly watching the monthly lesson days at her yard for months prior to that, listening to people’s feedback, watching their reactions as they came out of lessons, observing the patterns and quietly plucking up the courage to ask the organiser for a lesson.
I was briefed before the lesson, ‘It’s her first lesson in over 20 years because she had an awful experience with an instructor, she can’t/doesn’t want to ride in front of other people, she wants to work on being able to walk, please can you work your magic.’
This is a situation I have been in many times, and my heart always tugs a little at the first part of the statement, ‘It’s her first lesson in over 20 years because she had an awful experience with an instructor’.
As a coach I believe my job is to educate, support, keep people safe, inspire them to want to grow and have honest conversations in the nicest possible way. It’s not to demoralise and quash someone to the point they don’t want to come back, learn or feel like they can’t grow.
In our first meeting our lovely rider was well and truly out of her comfort zone – it was easy to see she was pretty worried, but I felt privileged that she had put her trust in me to try again.
During our first lesson we spoke a lot, not about her past experiences, but about the challenges she was having and the things that we could do to help overcome them. Her lovely mare was so tense that she couldn’t and wouldn’t walk more than about three strides in the school without wanting to jog/canter/go sideways, and she hadn’t been able to ride her in an arena for years.
On the contrary her safe space was endurance, out hacking for miles, at speed, it wasn’t a lack of skills or confidence that was the barrier, it was a deep seated lack of self worth and belief that she wasn’t good enough.
Within a few minutes we were walking (with some jogging), breathing, and had tools to help the relaxation for both horse and rider. She was in no rush for progress – she just wanted to do everything right for her horse.
We quietly worked on our body language, praising both horse and rider, our seat, our half halt, stripping everything right back to the basics.
She left the lesson grinning from ear to ear, and I left the lesson feeling a quiet sense of pride because I was able to help – and that was just the start of it.
Making progress
Each month there was more progress and as her confidence and knowledge grew, so did the mares. Our rider has a lovely seat, and great feel, as well as the most incredibly positive outlook – always recognising and celebrating the wins, and working really hard and consistently between lessons.
Fast forward a few months and last night was one of those moments that I will remember and celebrate for years to come. Our rider was riding in the arena outside (another big step from the safety of the indoors), riding a relaxed horse, maintaining a brilliant rhythm, with a bend and for the first time got her horse in a lovely soft contact. I couldn’t help but outwardly celebrate – she had dug deep, worked hard and now was reaping the rewards.
The icing on the cake that people were quietly watching and thrilled for her progress, the mare was happy and the rider was beaming. What a privilege to be a small part of their wonderful and inspiring journey, and a reminder that the biggest wins don’t always come from jumping the biggest fences or the fancy rosettes – they come as a result of trust, determination, resilience and hard work.
Liz x
