I woke up Saturday morning thinking about the way Tristan wobbled downhill on Friday night. I didn't like it. I kept mulling it over and over again, remembering the feel of it. I remembered that he felt okay, strong and fresh even, on the flat and on gentle inclines.
Then I was skimming back over my blog and I re-read my Thursday night post about longeing on the circle of death, and a light bulb went off.
I overworked him a bit on Thursday. All those poles worked his hocks and his stifles and gaskins, and he was too sore/tired to balance himself properly going downhill. The work we did in the dressage ring - steady, rhythmic, workmanlike but not spectacular - was just what he needed to stretch through there.
Ever feel like you're constantly having revelations just a little bit too late to actually help? Yeah. I wish I'd given him a little bute Thursday night. Still, I'm glad to have an explanation rather than worrying. I was actually flirting with the idea of having the vet out to do a lameness eval.