Breathing. It’s an obvious, clear cut necessity for life. It’s so obvious, in fact, that we rarely even think about it, let alone put any effort into doing it well. I was challenged to work on the quality of my breathing by a coach a few months ago. After 2 babies, I am working on strengthening my core and pelvic floor muscles. What I discovered is that a huge aspect of that work is focusing on quality breathing. Turns out there is a TON of research around breathing and stress management. (links below) Of course, your body needs oxygen to function so the better you are at getting it, the better you’re going to function. It’s a concept I typically categorize as a BFO, a Blinding Flash of the Obvious. It just never occurred to me that I might be BAD at breathing. I mean, I’m not dead so that counts for something, right?
So for several weeks, any time I was aware of my breath, I made it intentional. Inhale: soft throat, stretch the diaphragm, draw all the way down, last rib moves open and out. Then exhale: firm lower abs to support pelvic floor, feel bottom ribs knit together like a corset, air moves long and slow. For the first little while, I just did it when I remembered to sporadically throughout the day. I found it helped to re-focus me and I absolutely felt those muscles I was targeting being used more.
Then I tried it on a horse. The gelding belonged to a client and is normally an uncomplicated ride. I focused on taking a quality breath before I made a request of the horse, after I released pressure and when I felt my own tension rise a bit. Breath. Inside leg on. Outside hand closes. Breath. Soften both aids when he softens. Breath. Ask for trot. Breath. Sit deep. Breath. More trot. Breath. And on and on. It was not an astonishing ride, but it was a good one. I didn’t realize how often I hold my breath during a ride. I could feel the horse more and I definitely was more aware of what my body was doing.
However, the coolest thing happened after the arena work. I decided to ride back to the barn from the arena. We walked around the back side of one of the dry lot and passed the brand-new goat pen. I noticed one of the goats curled up like a cat (goats are weird) on top of a great big stump that’s at one end of their area. I had just enough time to think, “I bet that goat’s going to jump up at exactly the right moment to scare the tar out of this horse.” Ever make a prediction and be spot on? The gelding jolted to the left and cantered sideways about 20 yards. He turned back sharply and stopped, looking at the goat intently. He’s not flighty by nature so it didn’t take much to ask him to move back toward the pen for a closer look. While we were standing there studying the big scary goat, I realized I could feel each of his short, hard breaths. Even more remarkable, I could feel his heart pounding even through the saddle. I’ve never felt that with a horse before.
I realized that the reason I was so aware of his respirations and his racing pulse was because I wasn’t distracted by my own. My heart rate wasn’t elevated. I wasn’t gasping for air. I was chuckling about the ridiculous goat instead of shaking like a leaf after almost getting dumped off a horse. I replayed it in my mind and realized what had actually happened: I took a breath. Then noticed the goat. Breath. Sat deep. Heels down. Breath. Felt the horse stiffen. Breath. Jump sideways. Breath. Jarring canter. Stop and look. Breath. Holy cow, this stuff really works! I managed to stay calm and focused enough to do the things I needed to do to not end up on the ground. It was like magic. Except not, because I’d spent weeks working on it. I remembered past experiences with horses when I was so scared, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything because my panicking brain was switched off. This time was completely different. And all it took was breathing.
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