How I Keep My Stirrups at the Right Length for Both Phases

Finding the right stirrup length is one of those small eventing details that becomes very noticeable when it is wrong. With Archie, a hole too long can leave me reaching for the stirrup over a spread fence, while a hole too short can make my dressage position tense and ineffective. I used to think the answer was simply having one length for flatwork and one for jumping, but the reality is more finely balanced.

Dressage asks for a longer, quieter leg and a stable seat that allows the horse to move freely through the back. Show jumping and cross-country need a shorter, more flexible position, with enough bend in the knee to absorb movement and enough security to stay balanced over a fence. Eventing makes the adjustment especially important because the same rider may need to change positions several times during one competition weekend.

My method has developed through lessons, competition mistakes, saddle checks and plenty of standing beside the float with one stirrup leather in each hand. I now use reference points on the leathers, check how Archie is going that day, and make the final decision from the saddle rather than relying on a fixed number of holes.

Starting with a reliable dressage length

For ordinary dressage schooling, I begin with the stirrup iron sitting around the ankle bone when my legs hang naturally from the saddle. That is only a starting measurement. Different saddles, boots and riding habits can change the result, so I always mount and let my legs settle before deciding whether the length feels correct.

At the longer dressage setting, my knee remains softly bent without being pushed forward. My lower leg hangs underneath my hip, my heel is lower than my toe without being forced down, and I can maintain contact with Archie’s sides without gripping. If I shorten the reins and ask for a transition, I should be able to keep my seat deep while my leg stays long and quiet.

A useful test is to take my feet out of the irons for a few strides. If my legs immediately become much longer and my stirrup irons move several centimetres away, the leathers may have been too short. If my toes barely reach the irons when I let my legs relax, they are too long for useful support. The correct length gives me room to lengthen my leg while still allowing the iron to be found quickly.

I mark my preferred dressage hole with a small piece of coloured tape on the underside of the leather. It is discreet, easy to see while tacking up and more dependable than trying to remember whether I used the seventh or eighth hole. The tape is a guide rather than a permanent rule, particularly when I change saddles or wear thicker winter breeches and boots.

Creating the jumping adjustment

For show jumping, I usually shorten Archie’s stirrups by two holes from my normal flatwork setting. That gives me a lighter seat and allows my knee and ankle to flex over fences. The exact change depends on the course, the saddle and how much time I expect to spend in a forward seat. A compact arena track may suit a modest adjustment, while a larger course with substantial fences can require greater freedom.

I check the jumping length by standing in the stirrups in a light two-point position. My hips should hover above the saddle without my lower leg swinging backwards. I want enough bend in my knee to follow Archie’s movement, but I do not want my heel pushed so far down that my calf becomes rigid. If I cannot close my hip angle without losing balance, the irons are probably too short or I am trying to hold myself up with my stirrups.

The most common mistake I made was shortening too much because I wanted to feel secure. Very short stirrups can create a chair seat, where the knee rises and the lower leg slides forward. That position feels powerful at first, but it makes it harder to fold smoothly over a fence and can interfere with Archie’s shoulder. A slightly longer jumping length is often safer than chasing an exaggerated jockey position.

Before jumping, I canter in both directions and ride a few transitions. If my lower leg stays in place and I can stand briefly without tipping forward, the setting is promising. I then jump a small cross rail before changing anything else. Archie’s feedback matters: a rushed approach, a hollow back or a reluctance to stretch can indicate that my position needs adjustment, although stirrup length is only one possible cause.

Choosing a cross-country length

Cross-country is where I make the clearest change. I generally take the stirrups one hole shorter than for show jumping, sometimes two if the course is hilly, fast or full of large efforts. The shorter setting helps me maintain a balanced forward seat for longer periods and gives my legs a stronger base when Archie lands, accelerates or changes stride on uneven ground.

I do not judge the length by the first fence alone. A setting that feels ideal while waiting near the start can feel restrictive after several minutes of cantering. Before a competition, I practise in the cross-country position at home, including transitions, turns, small banks and varied terrain. Around Melbourne or Sydney, this may mean using a local cross-country schooling venue; near Brisbane, the heat and humidity can make a long session feel very different from a cool morning ride.

My aim is to keep my weight centred over Archie’s balance rather than sitting heavily behind the movement. My heel stays available, my knee remains elastic and my upper body can come forward without collapsing. I need to be able to lift slightly out of the saddle on a downhill section, then return to a more upright position before a turn or technical question.

I also leave enough length to ride between fences. Cross-country is not a series of isolated jumps, and an over-short stirrup can encourage me to perch instead of riding the rhythm. I need stability during a gallop, but I also need to sit up, shorten Archie’s stride and organise him when the course demands it. For that reason, I prefer a balanced cross-country length rather than the shortest setting I can tolerate.

Using the saddle and equipment as references

The saddle makes a considerable difference to how a stirrup length feels. A dressage saddle with a deeper seat and straighter flap may make a longer setting feel natural, while a jumping saddle can support a shorter leg. When I use a different saddle, I do not assume that the same hole will produce the same position. I mount, check my alignment and ride before making a final mark.

I also inspect the leathers and irons before every outing. Stretched holes, uneven leather lengths and worn stitching can make one side subtly different from the other. A few millimetres may not sound important, yet an uneven pair can cause one hip to sit forward or one leg to search constantly for the iron. I compare the holes visually and measure from the buckle when necessary.

Safety equipment is part of this check. In Australia, eventing gear is generally used under Equestrian Australia rules and the requirements of the relevant competition organiser, so I check the current rules rather than relying on old advice from a previous season. My helmet must meet an accepted standard, and my stirrups need to offer appropriate security. I also make sure the irons are clear of mud and that any safety release mechanism is clean and functioning.

The Australian tack market affects my choices too. In smaller regional areas, I may need to order replacement leathers from an interstate shop, while riders in Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide or Brisbane often have more specialist fitting and equipment options nearby. Imported safety irons can be expensive after freight, GST and currency changes, so I would rather maintain reliable equipment properly than keep changing products in search of a shortcut.

Checking the length before a competition

At a one-day event, I write my stirrup settings on a small card kept with Archie’s bridle. My current notes include the dressage hole, the show-jumping hole and the cross-country hole, along with a reminder to check the saddle after loading. That saves time on a busy morning when I am also thinking about numbers, boots, studs, water and the order of the phases.

Dressage is usually the easiest phase in which to confirm the setting. I ride a few minutes of walk and trot, check my hip-knee-heel alignment and make sure I can use my leg without gripping. If Archie feels tight or I am bracing through my knees, I may lengthen one hole. If I cannot keep my stirrups during transitions, I may shorten them slightly, but I first check whether tension in my ankle or thigh is the real problem.

Before show jumping, I change both sides while standing on level ground and compare the holes carefully. I then ride a circle and a transition before approaching a fence. At events around Australia, warm-up footing can vary from firm winter grass to deep sand or hard, dry ground after a hot spell. That surface changes how much shock reaches my ankles and knees, so the same nominal length may not feel identical from one venue to the next.

Between jumping and cross-country, I avoid making an automatic adjustment while rushing. I take a moment to check that both stirrups are secure, that the leathers have not shifted and that the setting suits the course briefing. Some Australian events also involve extra travel between arenas, and a long day in heat can make my body less supple. I take water, use sunscreen and give myself enough time to make the change calmly.

Adapting through training and real conditions

I practise stirrup changes at home so they do not become a competition-day experiment. During one schooling session, I may ride a few minutes of flatwork at the longer length, shorten for poles, and then use the jumping setting over a small course. This teaches me to maintain the same basic alignment while changing the amount of bend in my knee and hip.

Archie’s shape also changes the answer. When he is fit, forward and strong, I may need a little more room to stay with his stride. When he is tired or less engaged, a slightly longer flatwork setting can help me sit deeply and encourage him to work over his back. The adjustment is not a way to disguise training issues, but it can help me communicate clearly while I address them.

I keep an eye on seasonal conditions. Early starts are part of Australian horse life, especially during hot summer competitions, and riding at six in the morning can make my joints feel different from an afternoon lesson. In winter, heavier waterproof layers and thicker socks can alter how my leg rests. I also consider the travel itself: after a long float trip, both Archie and I need a careful warm-up before I decide that a position feels wrong.

Writing about these details has helped me compare patterns instead of relying on memory, and I often revisit the blog hop archives when I want to reflect on how a small riding choice fits into a wider training week. My notes include the venue, weather, saddle, stirrup holes and how Archie travelled, because the best length is connected to the whole day rather than a number stamped on a leather.

The final check is simple: can I stay balanced, communicate with my legs and adapt to Archie without fighting the equipment? For dressage, I want length and softness. For show jumping, I want a secure, elastic base. For cross-country, I want enough shortening to stay organised at speed without losing the ability to sit and ride. Keeping those purposes clear makes the adjustment practical, repeatable and much less stressful.