It was possible, I thought, that such distractedness arose from some evolutionary necessity. But I could not figure out how such fractured focus would have served us in the wild. In any case, it never fails amazing me how often during a 20-meter circle we riders drift off purpose. It seems like a small, clear task of this sort ought to keep us hooked with laser concentration. And yet our focus drifts so frequently, I wonder how any of us manages to drive from our houses to the supermarket without forgetting our destination. Or, for that matter, how do ever finish tasks like brushing our teeth without spacing out and wandering off?


I recent years, a surplus of skillful horsemanship information has hit the market. An eager student can now study videos and books and blogs to her heart’s content. And then, in theory anyway, she can go apply it to her horse. If it were it that simple! Likely, her horse does not pose the biggest challenge to implementing that new knowledge. Her human brain is the trickier beast to tame. As she heads to the barn, it will settle for a moment on her new skill set… and then bounce to an unrelated thought, then back to horses… and then to her plans for the weekend, and then…
During a recent lesson, I sounded like a stuttering machine. I reminded my student to keep her horse’s body bent inside for the duration of the 20-meter circle. She kept him bent for the duration of two or three seconds. Then her body and effort shifted, her eyes fogged with different thoughts. Her gelding bent to the outside and clambered out of balance. Again, I reminded her to bend him inside for the entire circle. Once more, she bent him as desired for a fleeting few seconds, and then—remarkably—drifted off task. I wondered if she were an airplane pilot if we would have struck a tree by now. Or if we would have ever cleared the runway to begin with.
As frustrating as these scenarios can be for instructors, I have full empathy for scattered human thought in the saddle. A few days ago, I was trying to access just the right parts of my body to ride a more successful half-pass on Corazon’s difficult side. I felt myself—and him—find the sweet spot of balance and the movement flowed sublimely. For two seconds. Then somehow I didn’t sense it happen, but obviously my brain fidgeted and fled off that wonderful focus. Corazon and I both fell apart. I became my own internal stuttering machine chanting reminders in order to find that feeling again.
Desperate to not sound like a repetitive nag with students, I started using patterns of cones to keep riders focused. In fact, way back in 2005, my attempt to conquer the ping-ponging nature of the human brain resulted in writing a whole book of exercises to keep focus: 101 Dressage Exercises for Horse and Rider. Give the mind some visible points and it tends to attach to each moment a little longer. Sometimes, with wavering concentration, prescribed exercises end up like collision courses (though cones are forgiving and scatter on impact), but mostly they have helped me harness riders’ minds.
A pattern with visual targets allows riders to self-correct when their brains scamper off to unrelated tasks. They can regain focus and offer more sustained clarity to their horses before wham!—they hit another cone and realize their distraction. Then they’re back on task and determined to execute the requirements of not hitting the next one. Occasionally, a rider will wince that it feels like a crutch to use cones and markers to stay on an exercise. But crutch or no, until riders can prove they can tame the ping-pong activities in their brains on their own, I keep giving them targets to pull them along. And I should add that I’m still waiting for an evolutionary explanation for our hyper thought patterns. Until then, you’ll find me chasing cones, repetitively spewing dressage terms.

Jec Ballou utilizes foundational dressage movements to enhance your riding experience across any riding discipline. She is a proponent for understanding proper movement through an environment that prioritizes kindness to the horse. www.jecballou.com.