Well, I hurt my own feelings yesterday and I’m just getting around to talking about it. I’ve been whining “I want to ride… I want to ride” for months. Or years. Anyway, I took the step and was SO excited. I found a stable that will train you on their horses. The other local places that offer training want to train you with your own horse. Kinda got a problem there. If I had a horse, I wouldn’t be looking for a place to ride.
I went to Lowgap to visit a Riding Academy. When I first arrived, there was an older woman mucking out a stall. I told her I was looking for the riding instructor and she went off about him. In 10 minutes I heard most of her life story (did she even take a breath?) and what a bad person this instructor is. Her story only stopped when he arrived and she left. Drama? In all her chatter she never did say what the trainer did that was so offensive – her story was scattered with her mother and moving and her sister and late brother-in-law…? Yes, definitely odd, but she was very welcoming. And didn’t need encouragement to share her thoughts.
He’s probably a little younger than me – say mid 40’s. Driving a pickup loaded with hay bales, two teenage girls and a border collie. Well, it IS a horse barn and it IS Saturday. Only TWO girls? 🙂
He teaches hunt/jump seat and has some NICE horses. He specializes in show horses and I think that was the first thing that sorta scared me. I’ve been to all of maybe three horse shows in my life and never as a rider. And I think one of those three “shows” was actually a rodeo.
I watched as he and the girls brought the horses in and fed/watered them. They were all “old hands” and knew what they were doing. It was fun to watch – and a bit intimidating at the same time. He asked if I wanted to ride or watch the girls – by now I am feeling my age and wondering how this old fat woman is going to scramble on top of such a HUGE horse. Hmm.
So, I deferred to watching these children work the horses around for a few minutes. I decided by the time I left yesterday that I was giving up on riding. This is at least partly because I watched him vault those girls into the saddle jockey-style.
Nope. Not happening. This old woman: Number 1 – is WAY too heavy to mount that way. (Cripple the trainer first day?) Number 2 – between my pains and ailments (back and shoulder mainly) I can see being up there until they can get a crane to lift me off. Or I fall off. And that’s a freakin’ long way to the ground. The only other horse I’ve seen that tall up close was at the Dixie Classic Fair in 1976 or 77. Supposedly the largest horse in the world at the time. Big, BIG Clydesdale. And he wasn’t jumping fences.
As I left I had decided I wasn’t going back. I told myself I didn’t need MORE drama (the woman I met first.) I convinced myself I need to move on to the next project – working on my house.
This morning I’m re-thinking that decision. Not that I want to abandon the house project – I’ve been trying to figure that one out (again.) I have a dear friend who suggests I am lonely by choice. Maybe she is right. The few people I hang with are my dearest, truest friends, but we don’t always share the same interests.
I was very, very sad thinking I would just drop the idea of riding. I don’t have to show a horse just to ride. I can learn and enjoy the riding and… Just. Have. Fun.
I will ache tomorrow whether or not I brush a horse – saddle a horse – ride a horse. I think I will head back again next weekend (unless I have to work) and this time I will ride. Between now and then I need to “practice” getting my butt into a saddle. That means I’m going to try to straddle the bed of my truck using the wheel as the stirrup. This could be interesting. And dangerous. What if the truck bucks? Sidesteps?
Oh, my. I’m a nut.
