In dressage, Fabian and me were a great team. I had been practising with him for almost two years and I saw him almost every day.
I knew all about him: that he was afraid of dogs, that he hated walking through puddles and he did not like jumping over hurdles.
He fulfilled my commands easily: when I wanted him to trot, when I wanted him to gallop, when I wanted him to stop. There were not many disagreements between us.
Only, when I wanted him to jump over hurdles or cross some water, did he give me trouble.
One day, during a jumping lesson, my horse riding instructor put the hurdle up to110 cm.
I knew Fabian would be very stubborn, even if he had to jump 60 cm. I had never done more than 80.
I told my instructor: “He’s not going to jump that high. He is not going to do it.”
“Oh, come on, just give it a try.”
“I can try, but he won’t do it.”
“Come on, it’s your turn now.”
I galloped towards the hurdle in the usual way. I was sitting very stiffly on the horse, expecting him to brake all the sudden or gallop past the hurdle.
But then a miracle took place. Fabian jumped - as if he had done nothing else all his life.
The people outside the paddock were cheering and my instructor gave me that I-told-you-so-look, but I had the honour of being the first to make that horse jump 110 cm.
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