The One Where I Learn My Heels Down Position Has Been All Wrong

While my own horse Knight is on layup I’ve had a chance to ride at some of my friends’ barns. It’s been fun and enlightening. Recently I rode in a lesson which has the potential to radically transform my lower leg position for the better, and make doing lunges less painful.

For several years now I have had intermittent pain in the ball of my right foot. It is a dull, ache which I tend to forget about until I have to do lunges and keep my right leg behind my body in the 90 degree position, knee pointing toward the floor, ball of my foot flexed while my left leg is extended out in front, theoretically getting toned. I say “have to” because I will not of my own accord do lunges.

Lunging a horse yes. Doing a lunge for exercise, no.

However, I take a class at the local gym called Body Pump and when a room full of about 50 people are all lunging, I don’t want to be the soft, out of sync nerd who is not following along with the rest of the class. Peer pressure merged with vanity is a powerful motivator.

I’ve had chiropractic adjustments on my ball of my foot here and there when I think about it, and one time I was told that my right big toe was jammed and to pull on it.

Have you ever tried pulling your own big toe out away from your body? It’s really hard. So once in a while if hubby and I are watching TV, I’ll say, “Can you please pull my toe?” He always says yes and I realize how un-sexy it is to request physical contact like that. Somewhere I feel like it’s time to insert the ol’ “pull my finger joke” which is a favorite of many a grandpa. Before I get too off topic I am trying to convey that my right ball of my foot has a mysterious pain. Back to the riding lesson. . .

So I hop on this new horse in a lesson with a new instructor and about three minutes in she reveals that I am balancing on my toes, trying to jam my heels down. My whole lower leg position is compromised. She asks me to take my feet out of the stirrups and flex my ankle so my toe is pointing up. Easier said than done.

“So I’m supposed to activate the muscle on the top of my foot?” I say to myself and to her. She nods wrangling my unruly left foot into the new, improved position which feels Strange with a capital S. I admit I have never thought about my ankles while riding before. I have thought about my ankles while walking–I know this sounds weird. Let me explain.

This summer I took a private swing dance lesson with a German instructor when hubby and I visited Munich to watch my nephew play beach volleyball in an international collegiate tournament (is my tangent having a tangent?). During the first 40 minutes of the lesson, the dance teacher was trying to work on the mechanics of my walk. The only reason I didn’t think this was crazy is probably because of my horsey background.

Read this blog post if you want to know more about my dancing and how it helps my riding.

He showed me how to engage my core more at the walk. He also told me I needed to use my ankles! He wanted my foot to stay on the ground longer and strike off and the ankle to function like a spring. The German word for ankle or ankle joint is apparently literally “spring joint.” I was not springing with my ankle.

At the end of the dance lesson after lots of walking around, looking at myself in the wall-to-wall mirror, trying not to be self-conscious, the instructor finally played a song and we danced. He said my following had been transformed–my turns, my ability to “read” what move he was leading had improved. I felt it too. It was all in the ankle (and core)!

Now back to the riding lesson and my ankle transformation.

After having my limbs manually placed in the correct position, I trot around. Following a few turns of the half arena my quads were burning! My lower leg was steadier, until I fall apart from lack of foot/ankle/calf muscle. I slow down to re-set. My brain understands the new, improved position and I feel the difference, but my untrained muscles can’t hold it together for very long.

At one point my zipper on my right boot halfway unzips. I thought it was a design flaw. I love my Ariats but they are not custom made or super high end.

When I comment on how my zipper often came unzipped the instructor tells me it’s evidence that my right leg is unstable! (Sorry for blaming you, boots.)

Once I zip up and regroup, I canter around on this new-to-me, bay horse.

Early on in the canter my legs feel locked in making perfect contact. I fancy my equitation to be Beezie-esque. The more we canter, the wobblier I get and when I’m told to walk again, I say, “God bless you,” in relief.

Soon I anticipate a more regular riding schedule which will help me hone my new heels down position. In the meantime, I am going to be thinking about my ankles and how it’s their job to take the pressure off the balls of my feet. And hopefully lunging (at the gym) will get a little easier, with the only pain being in my legs, not my right foot.

Thank you for reading!

Your Turn to Comment: Have you ever ridden in a new environment, on a new horse, with a new instructor and learned a transformative tip? What was it?

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