Your Tiny Movement Is Not Tiny to Your Horse

A Public Service Announcement From Roxy

Hello.

Roxy here.

Bay mare. Professional nap enthusiast. Occasional riding horse. Full-time carrier of humans who seem to believe that because they only moved a little bit, I somehow didn’t notice.

I noticed.

We notice everything.

You shifted your hip.

You dropped your shoulder.

You leaned forward two inches.

You tightened one thigh.

You looked down at my neck.

You took one foot out of the stirrup because apparently we’re reorganizing things up there.

I felt it.

And sometimes I’m trying to figure out whether you actually meant something by it or whether you’re just doing that weird human thing where your body is saying six different things at once.

So today, we need to discuss balance.

More specifically, your balance.

Because I’m already carrying myself around. Adding a human who is wobbling around like a bag of potatoes with opinions does not make my job easier.

Horses Feel Much More Than You Think

Humans sometimes seem to imagine riding aids have to be big before we notice them.

Big kick.

Big rein movement.

Big shift in the saddle.

Meanwhile, you can probably feel a fly land on your arm.

Guess what?

So can I.

Except now imagine the fly weighs somewhere around 100 to 200 pounds, is sitting directly over your spine and occasionally leans sideways because they saw something interesting beside the arena.

That’s you.

Congratulations. You’re the fly.

When you’re sitting on my back, I can feel subtle changes in your weight and muscle tension. I can feel when one side of your body becomes heavier. I can feel when your pelvis changes position. I can feel when you brace your leg or suddenly tighten your seat.

I can even feel changes you probably don’t realize you’re making.

That’s why good riding doesn’t necessarily look dramatic.

In fact, the better the communication becomes, the smaller it can look.

Balance Isn’t About Sitting Perfectly Still

Here’s where humans make things complicated. A balanced rider isn’t a statue.

Please don’t sit on me like you’ve suddenly been turned to stone.

I’m moving.

My back moves.

My shoulders move.

My rib cage moves.

My pelvis moves.

Every stride changes what’s happening underneath you.

Your job isn’t to resist that movement. It’s to stay centered with it.

When you follow my movement without collapsing, gripping, tipping or bracing, I don’t have to compensate for you.

That’s when riding starts feeling easier for both of us.

You’re not fighting to stay aboard.

I’m not trying to figure out where you’re going.

We’re just moving together.

Very civilized.

Suspiciously civilized, actually.

What Happens When You Lean?

Try carrying a backpack.

Now imagine everything inside that backpack suddenly shifts to the left.

You’re going to adjust.

You might step differently. You might lean the other way. You might tense part of your body to keep everything centered.

That’s basically what happens when your weight shifts on me.

If you collapse through one hip, lean over my shoulder or consistently sit heavier on one side, I may change the way I’m moving underneath you.

Not because I’m being difficult.

Not because I’m “ignoring your leg.”

Not because mares are apparently responsible for every problem humanity has ever encountered.

I’m trying to stay balanced too.

And here’s the really interesting part.

Sometimes riders feel the horse becoming crooked and immediately try to correct the horse.

Meanwhile, the horse may be crooked partly because they’re compensating for the rider.

Awkward.

Your Body Is Talking Even When You Aren’t

This is something I wish every rider understood.

You are giving aids all the time.

Not intentionally.

But your body is constantly communicating information.

Your seat.

Your legs.

Your hands.

Your shoulders.

Your breathing.

Your tension.

Where you’re looking.

Where your weight is sitting.

All of it matters.

Imagine you’re asking me to bend left, but your weight is falling right.

Your inside leg says one thing.

Your outside rein says another.

Your shoulders have wandered somewhere else entirely.

And then you wonder why I look confused.

Because I am confused.

You have essentially asked me:

“Please go left, but also right, while bending, but don’t bend, and please maintain rhythm.”

Then someone says, “She’s being stubborn.”

No.

I’m solving a group project where nobody agreed on the instructions.

Tiny Changes Can Make a Huge Difference

One of the coolest things about improving your balance is that you don’t necessarily have to become stronger and use bigger aids.

Quite often, you need less.

A small adjustment to your pelvis can change how I’m able to move beneath you.

Bringing your shoulders back over your hips can make it easier for me to lift through my front end.

Relaxing a gripping thigh can allow my back to move more freely.

Keeping even weight through your seat can help me travel straighter.

Sometimes the difference between me struggling and suddenly going, “Ohhhh, THAT’S what you wanted,” is a tiny change in what you’re doing.

Which is mildly irritating because humans tend to spend considerable amounts of money searching for complicated solutions when sometimes the answer is:

Sit better.

Balance Matters for My Body Too

This isn’t just about making riding prettier.

It’s about my body.

When you’re balanced, I have a better chance of using my own body correctly.

I can move underneath you without constantly compensating for shifting weight.

I can organize my feet.

I can use my back.

I can stay straighter.

I can find my own balance.

And over hundreds and thousands of strides, those little things matter.

One crooked step isn’t the end of the world.

But repeatedly moving while compensating for the same imbalance?

That’s different.

Bodies adapt to what they repeatedly do.

Horse bodies included.

And Before You Start Feeling Bad…

Nobody sits perfectly.

Not beginners.

Not experienced riders.

Not trainers.

Humans aren’t symmetrical creatures. You have stronger sides, tighter sides, old injuries, habits and approximately seventeen body parts that seem determined to operate independently.

That’s why riding is a skill.

Balance gets developed.

Body awareness gets developed.

Timing gets developed.

And sometimes you need someone on the ground to point out that you’re leaning six inches to the left while confidently insisting that you feel completely straight.

Humans are fascinating that way.

What feels straight to you isn’t necessarily straight.

What feels like a tiny movement to you may feel enormous to me.

And what feels like I’m suddenly moving better might actually be because you changed first.

So What’s the Goal?

Not perfection.

The goal is awareness.

Start noticing your own body as much as you notice mine.

Before immediately asking:

“Why is my horse doing that?”

Maybe also ask:

“What am I doing?”

Are your shoulders level?

Are you sitting evenly?

Are you gripping?

Are your hands doing the same thing?

Did your weight shift?

Did you hold your breath?

Did you accidentally lean into the direction you were trying to turn?

Because sometimes the horse isn’t giving you a problem.

Sometimes we’re giving you an extremely accurate response to information you didn’t realize you were sending.

We are sensitive animals.

That’s part of what makes riding possible in the first place.

You shouldn’t need enormous movements to communicate with us.

The ultimate goal is actually the opposite.

The better your balance, timing and awareness become, the quieter the conversation can become.

A slight shift.

A soft leg.

A tiny change in your seat.

And we understand.

That’s the beautiful part of riding.

Two bodies learning how to move together until eventually someone watching from the ground barely sees the conversation happening at all.

Meanwhile, we’re up here having an entire discussion.

Mostly about how you should stop leaning.

Love,
Roxy

Bay mare. Riding instructor who accepts payment exclusively in snacks and reasonable expectations.