Becoming a Rider Who............
My computer was in the crapper for a couple of days. After attempting to fix it I handed it off to my tech guy who said the OS could not be repaird so he had to do a clean install. Cost me $40 but I'm glad to have given him the business. He lost his job and has a big nut to hang onto, although his wife is a nurse and that helps with the bills and the two kids and three massive Bull Terriers they rescued.
My young friend Erin chose not to return to college this fall, and is hoping to find a job in Florida for the winter, preferably with racehorses. I can see that she wants to gallop, and I know that she wants to learn about breaking and training horses, although from there it's anyone's guess what she might get into. The one big strike she's had from the beginning is that like me, she lacks background. Don't get me wrong; she has done many other things and is good at them, and that doesn't hurt - tobe educated never hurts. The bad part is that kids with absolutely no other talents or interestes have spent a lot more time in their lives riding their horses. That they have had more hours in the saddle shows.
I'm going to digress for a moment about author Malcolm Gladwell's most recent work, called Outliers. Not gonna explain what the name means, but in the first chapter he demonstrates a phenomenon about the top Canadian hockey players; all of the big stars were born in the first three months of the year (with maybe one or two exceptions). The relative maturity and potential opportunity level of these players compared to their younger counterparts translates, he argues, to their success.
The reason is that when the skills evaluations come for these players they are not classified according to their chronological age. They are evaluated at their school's class level. The older one is at the time of evaluation, the more developed the skills are likely to be. In addition to having the advantage in the test scenario, these older boys have generally had more time on the ice, which has improved their skills over their younger classmates. This happens from year to year as they are evaluated at every grade level. Since the older ones at age 7 and 8 are visibly superior, they wind up with more ice time from then on, right through their senior high school years.
One of the conclusions from the book is that there is a magic number for developing skills in anything. That number is about 10,000 hours. For the average person, this would be roughly ten years. Obviously, for the student Hockey player born in July, ten years could take longer if he spent more time on the bench than the ice.
With racehorses, everyone knows that June foals don't make promising derby prospects; everyone wants to be born on January 1st, becaue all thoroughbred birthdays are dated January 1st; even the ones that are only five or six months old. You can't be ready to run in a race for three-year-olds when you are only two-and-a-half, much less win it.
But the brain doesn't forget anything, although neural pathways can become rusty with time; two hours here and two hours there still mean something provided the brain isn't damaged by age or injury. Can she ever be perfect, or does that mean she'll even be as good or as talented as anybody else, because she's starting out with a disadvantage?
I'm not done digressing; Gladwell also presents evidence for another case in his book; Your IQ may measure your intelligence and prove you smarter than the next guy, but for all practical purposes (at least in our current culture) the last ten or twenty points doesn't reward the owner of the genius brain. The bottom line, for my purposes, is; you don't have to actually be the best; you only have to be "good enough" in Gladwell's own words.
These things I'm talking about can be argued somewhere else; all I am saying is that there is evidence to support the points I want to make; if it works for you I'm glad. It definitely works for me.
The point I am going to make here is this, and now I am gonna bring us back to my living room and my friend Erin:
Give Erin more hours in the saddle and she will ride good enough to enjoy the rest of her career in riding.The same will hold true for other areas of learning that she will be undertaking as she goes out into the cruel world of work, where at some time or another she will be evaluated as incompetent, incapable, unguideable, or all three.
At Erin"s current level of riding, she is going to find a lot more work on the ground than in the saddle. Once she passes a critical point, she'll get more opportunities, but she'll find it frustrating I'm sure. I came around the same way. I had a limited amount of hours in the saddle and it was difficult to find learning opportunitied once I got out into the real world. I remember after my stint at the Ranch, my first job was as a show groom. I worked for Ellin Dixon, a member of the Widener family, at their Estate just north of Philadelphia County, in Flourtown. I had always wanted to work there but the job wasn't a riding one. I spent a month working as an Au Pair girl for a family near Kennett Square, but although I got to ride, it wasn't nearly as much as I had hoped it would be. The greatest thing that hapd for me while I was there was that I bought my Caliente helmet, and I have had it ever since.
I went to Lavery Farm, in Ocala, and my very first job when I pulled into the farm was to wash the dogs, Mickey Minnie and Sean (Airdales). But I did get to ride there. I spent my summer as a groom at Finger Lakes Racetrack near Rochester, NY. My second year there I broke my knee and Mrs. Lavery said I would never ride at her farm again so I thought I was useless and should give up. So after I recovered I went back to Philadelphia, and did several meaningless jobs; Worked at resturants; Bain's, La Conversacion, Fratelli's, in various positions. I spent three months actually trying to sell Encyclopedias, but I was so afraid of people and had so little self-confidence I never sold any - at least, not to anyone who's credit passed the inspection. I took a two weekend course on how to do TV commercials, given by one of the original TyD Bowl men (forget his name). Cost $90. I was so broke by the time I went back to College at Alfred that I couldn't pay attention.
During school, I found a job and a place to stay with a local farmer named Harry - who happened to have racehorses. Between academic seasons I went back to Finger Lakes for a summer job. You can really make a lot of cash at the track. When you're a kid, you have nothing but time - no responsibilities, nobody to answer to. You can freelance all day long and make a ton. I bought a car and insurance. When I left college, I finally managed to get a gallop license at Finger Lakes, thanks mostly to Harry, who let me gallop his horses whenever we shipped up there. I was breaking them on the farm, so I fit them well at the track. So what did I do but go to California to see the west coast and amke six bucks a gallop instead of three.
GOing to CA was like starting all over again. I found myself on the ground. I tlooked like my only chance at getting my license at Golden Gate was gonna be if I slept with the Outrider, whose offer I declined. Unfortunately I couln't stay way from men. They were like flies, everywhere and they never stopped asking me, if not for a lay, then for a date, at least...Then this fellow Scott Simmons finally managed to wrap himself around me. Men are wonderful, but if you want to pursue a career you have to be with one who supports you in yor dreams; not demands your attention. Scott could've been worse, but he altered my focus from what I really wanted. The upside however, was no more harassment from anybody; including Outrider Ben.
I got into a car accident and after 8 months was awarded a settlement thagt I used to live on until I could finally support myself galloping. I had a car, a 1950 plymouth that I drove all the way to San Mateo every day, where that outrider let me have a license (without the vulgar gratuity attached) and I jogged horses (really still coudln't gallop yet, not very well). Finally one day when the San Mateo County fair was running, a quarter horse man asked me if I wanted to go to TX. Austin, to be exact. There, at Manor downs, hesaid, there wa snot a single gallop person, and I could gallop probably for everyone there.
Off I went to TX in the 1950 Plymouth. And it was there that this family, the MacArthurs, put me through the gymnastics that finally made a rider out of me. They put me in the round pen on the pony with no bridle and chased me around in circles. "Lean back", they kept saying; "LEAN BACK!" Aftera couple of days I coudl actually lean back till my head almost touched th epony's rump. Two other gallop people showed up and I still had to take less opportunities than I had hoped for, but finally, one day;
I was galloping one of the fillies that was sceduled for an upcoming futurity trial (not one of the outfits favorites, so I got to ride her). I was feeling a little tired and I stretched my legs out and almost locked my knees. My toes turned in and my feet went forward. Two old fellows went past me on a pair of colts and they both exclaimed in unison, and I will never forget this as long as I live; "She dit it! She got it!"
So I finally had my seat. I began trying in 1979, and here it was 1988. Probably one of the slowest career development of all time. That wasn't my call; if I had been born to a racing family I would have been doing it since I was ten. But it took me ten years to get about half the hours I needed to really be adequate. Anyway, I returned to Finger Lakes in the Fall of 1988, and after two more years (roughly) I was what I would call capable. All along the way, people said I wouldn't beable to. Harry said it; Mrs. Lavery said it; Outrider Ben said it; the MacArthur's shook their heads, God bless 'em....and al that time there was only one thing that kept me clinging to my hopes: I was more afraid of my unwillingness to do anythign else than I was of my inability to ride a horse.
Even now I have a hard time imagining doing a J.O.B.. I'm afraid I'd call in sick fivedays in a row and then just tell whoever hired me the truth; I really just don;t want to do it...
If I can help Erin avoid the time and trouble I could not, I will have made a difference in my life.
And now I'm gonna get some shuteye before I have to go to work. I have 3 hours!
My young friend Erin chose not to return to college this fall, and is hoping to find a job in Florida for the winter, preferably with racehorses. I can see that she wants to gallop, and I know that she wants to learn about breaking and training horses, although from there it's anyone's guess what she might get into. The one big strike she's had from the beginning is that like me, she lacks background. Don't get me wrong; she has done many other things and is good at them, and that doesn't hurt - tobe educated never hurts. The bad part is that kids with absolutely no other talents or interestes have spent a lot more time in their lives riding their horses. That they have had more hours in the saddle shows.
I'm going to digress for a moment about author Malcolm Gladwell's most recent work, called Outliers. Not gonna explain what the name means, but in the first chapter he demonstrates a phenomenon about the top Canadian hockey players; all of the big stars were born in the first three months of the year (with maybe one or two exceptions). The relative maturity and potential opportunity level of these players compared to their younger counterparts translates, he argues, to their success.
The reason is that when the skills evaluations come for these players they are not classified according to their chronological age. They are evaluated at their school's class level. The older one is at the time of evaluation, the more developed the skills are likely to be. In addition to having the advantage in the test scenario, these older boys have generally had more time on the ice, which has improved their skills over their younger classmates. This happens from year to year as they are evaluated at every grade level. Since the older ones at age 7 and 8 are visibly superior, they wind up with more ice time from then on, right through their senior high school years.
One of the conclusions from the book is that there is a magic number for developing skills in anything. That number is about 10,000 hours. For the average person, this would be roughly ten years. Obviously, for the student Hockey player born in July, ten years could take longer if he spent more time on the bench than the ice.
With racehorses, everyone knows that June foals don't make promising derby prospects; everyone wants to be born on January 1st, becaue all thoroughbred birthdays are dated January 1st; even the ones that are only five or six months old. You can't be ready to run in a race for three-year-olds when you are only two-and-a-half, much less win it.
But the brain doesn't forget anything, although neural pathways can become rusty with time; two hours here and two hours there still mean something provided the brain isn't damaged by age or injury. Can she ever be perfect, or does that mean she'll even be as good or as talented as anybody else, because she's starting out with a disadvantage?
I'm not done digressing; Gladwell also presents evidence for another case in his book; Your IQ may measure your intelligence and prove you smarter than the next guy, but for all practical purposes (at least in our current culture) the last ten or twenty points doesn't reward the owner of the genius brain. The bottom line, for my purposes, is; you don't have to actually be the best; you only have to be "good enough" in Gladwell's own words.
These things I'm talking about can be argued somewhere else; all I am saying is that there is evidence to support the points I want to make; if it works for you I'm glad. It definitely works for me.
The point I am going to make here is this, and now I am gonna bring us back to my living room and my friend Erin:
Give Erin more hours in the saddle and she will ride good enough to enjoy the rest of her career in riding.The same will hold true for other areas of learning that she will be undertaking as she goes out into the cruel world of work, where at some time or another she will be evaluated as incompetent, incapable, unguideable, or all three.
At Erin"s current level of riding, she is going to find a lot more work on the ground than in the saddle. Once she passes a critical point, she'll get more opportunities, but she'll find it frustrating I'm sure. I came around the same way. I had a limited amount of hours in the saddle and it was difficult to find learning opportunitied once I got out into the real world. I remember after my stint at the Ranch, my first job was as a show groom. I worked for Ellin Dixon, a member of the Widener family, at their Estate just north of Philadelphia County, in Flourtown. I had always wanted to work there but the job wasn't a riding one. I spent a month working as an Au Pair girl for a family near Kennett Square, but although I got to ride, it wasn't nearly as much as I had hoped it would be. The greatest thing that hapd for me while I was there was that I bought my Caliente helmet, and I have had it ever since.
I went to Lavery Farm, in Ocala, and my very first job when I pulled into the farm was to wash the dogs, Mickey Minnie and Sean (Airdales). But I did get to ride there. I spent my summer as a groom at Finger Lakes Racetrack near Rochester, NY. My second year there I broke my knee and Mrs. Lavery said I would never ride at her farm again so I thought I was useless and should give up. So after I recovered I went back to Philadelphia, and did several meaningless jobs; Worked at resturants; Bain's, La Conversacion, Fratelli's, in various positions. I spent three months actually trying to sell Encyclopedias, but I was so afraid of people and had so little self-confidence I never sold any - at least, not to anyone who's credit passed the inspection. I took a two weekend course on how to do TV commercials, given by one of the original TyD Bowl men (forget his name). Cost $90. I was so broke by the time I went back to College at Alfred that I couldn't pay attention.
During school, I found a job and a place to stay with a local farmer named Harry - who happened to have racehorses. Between academic seasons I went back to Finger Lakes for a summer job. You can really make a lot of cash at the track. When you're a kid, you have nothing but time - no responsibilities, nobody to answer to. You can freelance all day long and make a ton. I bought a car and insurance. When I left college, I finally managed to get a gallop license at Finger Lakes, thanks mostly to Harry, who let me gallop his horses whenever we shipped up there. I was breaking them on the farm, so I fit them well at the track. So what did I do but go to California to see the west coast and amke six bucks a gallop instead of three.
GOing to CA was like starting all over again. I found myself on the ground. I tlooked like my only chance at getting my license at Golden Gate was gonna be if I slept with the Outrider, whose offer I declined. Unfortunately I couln't stay way from men. They were like flies, everywhere and they never stopped asking me, if not for a lay, then for a date, at least...Then this fellow Scott Simmons finally managed to wrap himself around me. Men are wonderful, but if you want to pursue a career you have to be with one who supports you in yor dreams; not demands your attention. Scott could've been worse, but he altered my focus from what I really wanted. The upside however, was no more harassment from anybody; including Outrider Ben.
I got into a car accident and after 8 months was awarded a settlement thagt I used to live on until I could finally support myself galloping. I had a car, a 1950 plymouth that I drove all the way to San Mateo every day, where that outrider let me have a license (without the vulgar gratuity attached) and I jogged horses (really still coudln't gallop yet, not very well). Finally one day when the San Mateo County fair was running, a quarter horse man asked me if I wanted to go to TX. Austin, to be exact. There, at Manor downs, hesaid, there wa snot a single gallop person, and I could gallop probably for everyone there.
Off I went to TX in the 1950 Plymouth. And it was there that this family, the MacArthurs, put me through the gymnastics that finally made a rider out of me. They put me in the round pen on the pony with no bridle and chased me around in circles. "Lean back", they kept saying; "LEAN BACK!" Aftera couple of days I coudl actually lean back till my head almost touched th epony's rump. Two other gallop people showed up and I still had to take less opportunities than I had hoped for, but finally, one day;
I was galloping one of the fillies that was sceduled for an upcoming futurity trial (not one of the outfits favorites, so I got to ride her). I was feeling a little tired and I stretched my legs out and almost locked my knees. My toes turned in and my feet went forward. Two old fellows went past me on a pair of colts and they both exclaimed in unison, and I will never forget this as long as I live; "She dit it! She got it!"
So I finally had my seat. I began trying in 1979, and here it was 1988. Probably one of the slowest career development of all time. That wasn't my call; if I had been born to a racing family I would have been doing it since I was ten. But it took me ten years to get about half the hours I needed to really be adequate. Anyway, I returned to Finger Lakes in the Fall of 1988, and after two more years (roughly) I was what I would call capable. All along the way, people said I wouldn't beable to. Harry said it; Mrs. Lavery said it; Outrider Ben said it; the MacArthur's shook their heads, God bless 'em....and al that time there was only one thing that kept me clinging to my hopes: I was more afraid of my unwillingness to do anythign else than I was of my inability to ride a horse.
Even now I have a hard time imagining doing a J.O.B.. I'm afraid I'd call in sick fivedays in a row and then just tell whoever hired me the truth; I really just don;t want to do it...
If I can help Erin avoid the time and trouble I could not, I will have made a difference in my life.
And now I'm gonna get some shuteye before I have to go to work. I have 3 hours!
posted by hoofstep at
11:53 PM
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