sore

It had been six years since I rode a horse when my parents got me riding lessons for my birthday. Growing up, I was fortunate enough to fall into equestrian sports from a beginning in figure skating. We had moved from Ontario to Alabama- it was a natural enough change. Tight pants, check. Non-team oriented, check. Complicated tests and figures and patterns, check. Speed, accuracy and on occasion, music, check.
I started on lesson horses, then leasing lesson horses. Then we purchased an off-track thoroughbred that was, understandably, terrified of large crowds and starting gate appearing devices. Pony club, Wisconsin winters and a bought with 4-H ensued before he developed bad enough arthritis in his hocks to have to be retired to a lovely couple who already had an orphaned Holstein calf at their place and a mean old goat. I managed to get lucky and have a lady at the barn let me use her dear horse while she was expecting and, later, a new mom. I later took that horse to college with me and boarded him at a place right next to some train tracks. But that too, was shortlived, as I neared graduation and another transition.
Then I grew up. My parents weren’t footing the bill anymore (or so I thought, until this most recent present) and I had gotten married, moved to the west and lived in a mobile home. Not exactly dressage material. But even there I managed to find a barn with an old school master that needed exercise to stay fresh so they let me go out about once or twice a week for free. They had the tack and the barn and the horse- didn’t get much better than that. It was the perfect way to stay in shape and keep some dirt under my nails (that smell of hay and sweat and clay combined with the crunching and munching and muffling sounds of a barn are my idea of heaven.)
Since moving to Virginia, what many would consider a “horsey” state, we settled in an area where barns are mostly individually owned. About an hour in many directions there are larger, professional operations with options for leasing and regular training. But I had long since given up finding a barn to “hang my hat” and settle in, mainly due to financial and time constraints. Let’s face it, with a home, a cat, a dog, many vegetable and flower gardens, a part time job, a membership at the gym, a marriage to an irresistibly good-looking man and two sweet and high energy children, most days are booked.
But I was pleased when Mom told me recently that this year for my birthday (29 again!) she had arranged a few lessons at a barn she knew about through one of their customers at the marina. It was a newish place with a growing menagerie and clientele. All that mattered to me was getting to halter, groom, saddle, ride, untack, groom and halter a horse. And I did! It was lots of fun, great weather and such a challenge physically. I’m not sure if it’s cause it’d been so long since I had ridden or the two natural births my body have sustained but I’m still walking funny. The horse I rode was definitely a schoolmaster but I think if I can get my body parts to respond again to my brain, I’ll be in good shape. Or at least have fun trying! The place is about an hour away, but right down the road from my folks’ home- so it could be perfect as far as babysitting goes. I hate spending “me” time on the weekends, especially ‘cause I work every other weekend, but I’m hoping to make this a semi-regular kind of thing.
So apparently you can’t teach an old horse a new trick, but you can still trick an old(er) rider into thinking it’ll be just like riding a bike!
Thanks for a great birthday present, Mom and Dad, and giving me the chance to revisit something I love doing.