Dominique Tardin- Equestrian Athlete

Rhythm. It's the first of the scales of training, and I think it's misunderstood more often than any other. 🎵

Rhythm is not tempo. Tempo is speed — how many beats per minute. Rhythm is the regularity of those beats. A horse can have a fast tempo and terrible rhythm, or a slow, ground-covering trot with perfect, unshakeable rhythm.
What I'm listening for is this: does each footfall land with the same weight and timing as the last? Is there a mechanical predictability to it — not in a dull way, but in the way that great music has pulse? 🐎

When the rhythm is lost — when a horse begins to hurry, or shuffle, or lose the clarity of the pace — everything else becomes more difficult. Bend, suppleness, contact, collection — all of it is built on the foundation of a true, consistent rhythm.

I come back to it constantly. In every session, on every horse. If something isn't working, the first question I ask is: have we kept the rhythm? More often than not, that's where the answer is.

August always brings a particular kind of pressure with it. 😮‍💨 The season is in full swing, the competition diary is full, and somewhere between the early mornings and the late nights I have to remind myself why I started doing this.

It wasn't for the scores. It was for moments — the ones that happen between the movements, when a horse exhales and softens and you feel the whole conversation shift. 🐎
I've been riding long enough to know that the pursuit of perfection is a trap. What I'm actually chasing is partnership. And partnership requires patience that competition schedules don't always allow for.
So this month, I'm making a conscious choice to slow down — not in my ambition, but in my daily practice. To ride fewer things better. To sit in the discomfort of not rushing.
Some of the best training I've ever done has come from deciding that today, this is enough. ✨

Something I genuinely believe: the stable is where the training happens.
What I mean by that is this — the quality of my horses' daily care directly shapes what I get in the arena. The two are not separate. They never have been.

In a South African winter I'm particularly mindful of feet. 🐴 Hard, cold ground is unforgiving, and the combination of dry conditions and reduced movement in the field can affect hoof quality more than people realise. I've seen horses develop bruising and sensitivity that had nothing to do with their training and everything to do with ground conditions that weren't being managed carefully enough.

What I do throughout winter: I check feet daily — not just a glance, but a proper look at condition, sole depth, and any early signs of bruising. I keep my farrier informed about ground conditions and workload. I use a good quality hoof supplement year-round, but I'm especially consistent with it through the colder months when growth slows and quality can drop. 🌿
It sounds simple because it is simple. But simple things done consistently are what keep horses sound through a long season.

Feet first. Everything else follows.

Glenn Zimmerman

I'll be honest — I love competing. I genuinely do. 🏆

I know that's not the fashionable thing to say. We're all supposed to talk about the nerves, the pressure, the lorry park chaos. And yes, all of that is real. But underneath it there's something that lights me up the moment I enter that arena, and I've stopped apologising for it.
Competition is where the work becomes visible. It's where you find out what's truly confirmed and what only works in the comfort of home. That feedback, even when it stings, is some of the most valuable information I have as a trainer.
And there's nothing quite like riding a test that comes together — when the horse is with you, the movements flow, and for a few minutes everything you've worked for is right there under your hands. 🐎
I want more of those moments. So I prepare well, I compete as often as makes sense for each horse, and I treat every test — good or disappointing — as part of the process.

Competition isn't the enemy of good training. For me, it's one of the reasons I train as hard as I do. ✨

Today is Women's Day, and I want to say something that I mean genuinely — not as a caption, but as someone who has built her life around this work. 🤍

The equestrian world has always been a place where women lead. We breed, train, compete, care for, and advocate for horses at every level of this sport. We do it through pregnancy, through loss, through injury, through seasons when the money was tight and the support was thin and we showed up anyway because the horses needed us to.

I think about the women who taught me — who were uncompromising, brilliant, and entirely uninterested in being anything other than exactly what they were. They didn't ask for permission to be good at this. They just were. 💜
To every woman reading this who is doing the work — who gets up before dawn, who makes the hard calls, who has cried in a stable and then gone back the next day — I see you.

This sport is better because you're in it. 🐴

I've been thinking a lot about contact lately. 🤍

Not the mechanics of it — the feel of it. Because there is a difference, and I think it's the difference that separates a rider from a horseperson.
Contact isn't something you take. It's something your horse gives you, when they trust that your hand is a safe place to reach into. The moment I start holding, gripping, or fixing — I've lost it. What I have left is just tension dressed up as connection.
This month I've been going back to basics with one of my horses. Longer rein. Slower work. Waiting. It goes against every instinct when you have a competition on the horizon, but the horse doesn't lie. If the contact isn't genuine, nothing built on top of it will be either. 🐴
Ride the horse in front of you. Not the test. Not the deadline. The horse.

🔄 Transitions are the single most valuable training tool I use — every day, with every horse.

I know that might sound basic. But the more I train, the more I believe it.

You don't need complicated movements to build a stronger, more responsive horse. What you need is quality transitions, ridden with intention, over and over again.

Walk to trot — is it prompt? Balanced? Did the hindleg step under?
Trot to walk — did we keep the rhythm, or fall on the forehand?
Medium to collected — did I ask or demand? Did my horse offer or brace?

These are the questions I ask myself constantly.

A horse that transitions beautifully is a horse that is listening, balanced, and engaged. And that horse can do anything. ✨

This week, try riding 10 really intentional transitions per session. Not more — just better. Tell me what you notice.

Tracy Robertson Photography

🌾 Let's talk about feeding your dressage horse — because what goes in the feed bucket absolutely shows up in the arena.

I've seen horses transform when their nutrition was addressed. Horses that were labelled "difficult" became willing. Horses with poor toplines developed strength. Anxious horses found calm.

A few things I always consider:

🟢 Forage first — always. Hay or pasture is the foundation, full stop.
🟢 Topline and muscle need quality protein, particularly lysine — don't underestimate this
🟢 Magnesium has made a genuine difference to some of my more tense horses — worth exploring
🟢 Omega-3s support joints and coat from the inside out
🟢 I'm cautious about high-sugar feeds, especially for sensitive or excitable horses

I always recommend working with an equine nutritionist — every horse is different, and what works for one won't work for all.

But if your horse is tense, resistant, or lacking impulsion, please look at their diet before you look at their training. It might surprise you. 🐎💚

Tracy Robertson Photography

🌅 I want to talk about something we don't say enough in the equestrian world:

It's okay to have a bad day in the saddle.

Not every session will be harmonious. Not every ride will feel connected. Some days you'll dismount feeling like you've undone months of progress — and that feeling is lying to you.

What actually happened? You showed up. You tried. You stayed in the conversation with your horse even when it was hard.

That is not failure. That is the work.

I've had sessions where I've had to stop, get off, breathe, and start again from the ground. I've had competitions where everything fell apart. I've questioned whether I was good enough more times than I can count.

And I'm still here. Still learning. Still completely in love with this sport and these animals. 🐴❤️

If today was a hard day — I see you. Come back tomorrow. The horse will be waiting.

💬 What keeps you going on the tough days? I'd genuinely love to know.

🌿 Something I feel really strongly about — our horses' backs deserve far more attention than they usually get.

In my experience, a sore back is one of the most common reasons for resistance, tension, and what we often label as a "behavioural problem." Before I ever look at training for an answer, I look at the horse's body.

Here's what I check and prioritise regularly:

🔸 Saddle fit — at minimum twice a year, and any time my horse's shape or topline changes
🔸 Regular bodywork — physio, chiro, or massage depending on the horse's needs
🔸 A proper warm-up every single session, no exceptions
🔸 Watching for the quiet signals — a flick of the tail, a dip away from my leg, a tightening behind the saddle

Our horses are athletes. They can't tell us in words when something hurts. But they tell us — if we're willing to listen.

I'd rather spend time preventing an issue than retraining around one. 🐎💚

How do you care for your horse's back? I'm always curious to hear what works for others!

Tracy Robertson Photography