FTP Coaching

15/03/2026

You know why it takes like 10 years to train a dressage horse to Grand Prix?
Cause it's f*cking hard, that's why.
Today I rode a big, wobbly, 5-year-old who still thinks the world might end if he has to carry himself properly for more than three strides.
He braced the second I asked for anything resembling dressage, poll tight, hollow back, hind legs trailing like they were on vacation.
I half-halted softly. He popped his head.
I tried again, lighter. He shortened but stayed braced.
Forward came back, tension stayed.
Rinse, repeat.
At one point I caught myself thinking the same old lie: "If I just did this better, he'd get it."
Then I remembered: no.
This isn't about me being bad.
This is about the sport being brutal in the best way.
The brace is normal.
It's not failure. It's not evidence you suck. It's proof the horse is alive, feeling, thinking, reacting. It's proof you're asking for something real. Something that goes against a million years of survival wiring.
We spend years (years...) chipping away at that brace. Teaching a flight animal that carrying himself (and me) won't kill him. That softness is safer than tension. That the rider asking for collection isn't a predator on his back.
Our instincts fight it. We want control, security, quick fixes.
The horse wants to run from pressure, brace against uncertainty, protect the parts of them that feel vulnerable.
So we override all of it. We stop gripping when we want to hold. Stop pushing when we want to force. Stop fixing when we want to correct. We stay soft in the face of resistance. Patient in the face of chaos. Curious instead of frustrated.
And slowly (so f*cking slowly) the brace starts to fade.
Today, after twenty minutes of brace-and-release, brace-and-forward, brace-and-breathe, something shifted.
Not dramatic. Not Grand Prix.
Just one moment where it felt right, relaxed a little over his back, softened and let go for two whole strides.
Then the tension came back.
But those two strides?
That's the long game.
Years of meeting brace with softness until the horse starts to believe that carrying himself isn't scary. Until suppleness isn't something we impose, it's something he offers because he trusts what we ask.
If you're riding a young one right now and feeling like you're getting nowhere, hear this:
You're not failing. You're in the middle of the hardest, most beautiful part.
The brace is normal. The wobbles are normal. The frustration is normal.
Keep showing up soft. Keep asking without demanding. Keep releasing when the answer is "not yet."
Until then? Embrace the brace.
The softness you're building doesn't happen in spite of the resistance. It happens because of it.
Every brace met with patience is a brick in the foundation of trust. Every wobble you don't punish is proof that safety exists here. Every moment you choose release over force, you're teaching them that maybe (just maybe) carrying himself won't kill him.
That's not failure. That's dressage.
And in 12 years, when that horse is floating through Grand Prix like it's nothing, no one will remember the wobbles. But you will. You'll remember every braced step that taught him to trust. Every moment you chose softness over force. Every day you showed up when it would've been easier to quit.
That's why it takes 10 years.
Not because the movements are hard.
Because the trust is.

~Stephen Forbes

The moment we finally get through the brace, pure magic start. Maybe just for a little moment but I keep seeking more of those....

Thank you Stephen your word and light are shining 🌟

03/03/2026

Gorgeous little Milli - One in a Million.
3yrs of age, started under saddle.

Out of Lindsay mare by Brookview Texas Trooper

03/03/2026

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07/02/2026

Change of class and classroom today. Milli and Mighty are out of kindergarten and started 1st grade. Still at times getting encouraged by their dad and sister but pretty much doing their own thing.

03/02/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1AaUh5jujx/

Last summer I did my first Prix St. Georges test on Stanley. I earned a daring 57%. In dressage terms, that’s not a score, its more a cry for help.

The trot work was passable. The walk and canter were an organized collapse. The pirouettes stalled out like a lawn mower you swear ran fine yesterday. I missed almost every flying change, despite the fact that this was the one thing I walked in feeling unjustifiably confident about. Naturally. Dressage punishes joy.

My dad knows nothing about dressage. This turned out to be an advantage.

The other night, I sat him down to show him the video of me and Stanley riding our test. The bell rings.

He squints. “Why does it start with a bell? Is that a warning?”

I enter at A, sitting tall, serious, already radiating quiet stress.

“You look like you’re about to be pulled over by the cops,” he says. “Why are you so tense? It’s a horse, you've been around them your whole life.”

I halt and salute.

“That stop looked hard on your back. Why are you bowing,” he asks. “Oh, did you drop something?”

The collected trot begins. For a brief, fragile moment, things look polished.

“Oh,” he says. “This part looks fancy. This must be why it costs money. Strong start. Stan looks confused but cooperative. Like me at IKEA.”

The extended trot happens and Stanley actually looks impressive.

“Okay,” my dad nods. “Stanley understands the assignment. He’s carrying the group project. Do you get extra points for bouncing like that?”

The half pass appears.

“Are you supposed to be going sideways?” he asks. “Is this arena crooked or are you just freelancing?”

We transition to walk.

Immediately: “Nope. Why did you slow down? Never slow down. That’s how they get you.”

The collected walk begins, suspicious and tense.

“Why is he sneaking?” my dad asks. “This looks like a crime.”

The extended walk follows.

“That’s it?” he says. “That’s the big walk? I walk faster than that to the fridge.”

We pick up the canter after a visible conversation between me and Stanley.

“That wasn’t smooth, have you done those before?”

The canter half pass begins.

“This is ballet for people who hate happiness,” he says. “Why is nothing allowed to just go straight?”

Then comes the first pirouette.

“Oh,” he says, leaning forward.

Stanley stalls.

“Oh no,” he continues. “You stopped. Why did you stop. The instructions were spin, did you need a breather?”

I attempt to salvage it.

The second pirouette arrives, somehow worse.

“Oh, the second one is optional?” he asks

We line up for the tempis.

“You look scared,” he says. “So this must be the hard part.”

Irony enters the arena.

The changes do not.

“Stanley just said ‘absolutely not,’” my dad reports. “And honestly? I respect him.”

I try again.

“Why do I hear you counting?” he asks. “Nothing is happening. Are you supposed to be swinging violently back and forth like that?”

I abandon the idea entirely.

“Oh good,” he says. “That looked painful on your hips”

The canter work continues in a fragile, apologetic manner.

“This sport is just quiet suffering,” he decides. “You’re all miserable and no one’s allowed to show it.”

I turn up the final centerline, smiling with the confidence of someone who knows the damage is irreversible.

“Smile,” my dad says. “That’s smart. If you smile, they can’t tell how bad it was.”

I halt. I salute. The test ends.

He exhales.

“You take lessons for this, right?” he asks. “Shouldn't you know how to ride that test by now? You've been doing this a while.”

Pause.

“And you got a 57. the lower the score the better, right?”

And that is how you earn a 57%, get roasted by your father, briefly reconsider dressage as a concept, and decide you are never, under any circumstances, showing a test video to your dad again

57% later, one brutally honest dad, and Stanley is still unbothered.

Honestly, that’s the real victory.

23/01/2026

This one is just a beautiful foal...3 months old Ruby with her mum Jaylyn Downs Jewel.

23/01/2026

This bird doesn't want to live!!! Luna is after it straight away...

20/01/2026

Update on little Luna, the tiny terror. She's growing like a w**d on rocket fuel. Still confined, because we don't want her tendons to stage a full-blown coup. Her mind is also supercharged and she has a play drive that's completely off the charts. Her muscles are developing at lightning speed. No, we've never had one of those before. Luna might just turn into a Lunatic instead of a Luna Star. I almost spat out my coffee when Darren said, You better start with your magic early with this one, she's a handful and a half. She has been busy and curious like no other. Not a pic we see often for a long period of time... Here she is, sprawled out on the ground, refusing to budge after I asked her to get up. I nudged, mum and I prodded, I used my best puppy dog voice, eventually mum stepped away and nickered. Finally progress. This is going to be an interesting journey, to say the least.