The Return to Riding Report Card
Mar. 20th, 2008 03:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lauraanne_gilman Once upon a time there was a litle girl who fell in love with horses. Not the way most little girls do, lusting after a magical, sweet-smelling, silky-haired, bright-eyed pony of her own to play with. No, she wanted the whole messy deal. After assuring her parents that yes she really really really was sure, they sent her off to riding lessons, where instructors beat her (verbally) and worked her (physically) until she came home and collapsed in a tired puddle. And for ten years, at various stables, she did this, never becoming a rider of any particular brilliance, but enjoying the hell out of it just the same. She also spent more than her share of time cleaning tack, grooming bodies, shoveling stalls, and in one spectacular instance getting kicked through a stall door barrier when someone spooked the horse she was hoof-picking. Ow.
And then she graduated from college, and the time and money she used to spend in the stables was required for other things, the local stable was too expensive, and the impulse got stiffled under the weight of Life. But the desire never went away.
Fast forward to 2008, when that little girl, now with her toe poking at middle age (in my family, 'middle age' runs from 40 to 70), found herself living ten minutes away from a stable. And she said, Self? Now or never.
Alas, there are no photos, because I forgot to bring the camera. But rest assured, it did indeed happen.
Me, I felt like a lump of straw, jouncing around. However my instructor assured me that my seat and hands were nicely quiet and my overall form not bad for a 20 year hiatus (although my leg will insist on moving forward and turning out, despite my knowing that's a badness. Grr. Must work on that). It is, I am told, apparent that once upon a time I was well-trained and reasonably competent, and the expectation is that it will all come back to me quite quickly.
We'll see. In the meanwhile, I stink of horse, I ache in muscles I'd almost forgotten I had, and I feel fabulous. :-)
And I get to do it again next week. Life is good.
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dancinghorse, the stable was founded by Rusty and Ashley Holzer, if the names are familiar to you...)
And then she graduated from college, and the time and money she used to spend in the stables was required for other things, the local stable was too expensive, and the impulse got stiffled under the weight of Life. But the desire never went away.
Fast forward to 2008, when that little girl, now with her toe poking at middle age (in my family, 'middle age' runs from 40 to 70), found herself living ten minutes away from a stable. And she said, Self? Now or never.
Alas, there are no photos, because I forgot to bring the camera. But rest assured, it did indeed happen.
Me, I felt like a lump of straw, jouncing around. However my instructor assured me that my seat and hands were nicely quiet and my overall form not bad for a 20 year hiatus (although my leg will insist on moving forward and turning out, despite my knowing that's a badness. Grr. Must work on that). It is, I am told, apparent that once upon a time I was well-trained and reasonably competent, and the expectation is that it will all come back to me quite quickly.
We'll see. In the meanwhile, I stink of horse, I ache in muscles I'd almost forgotten I had, and I feel fabulous. :-)
And I get to do it again next week. Life is good.
(
dancinghorse, the stable was founded by Rusty and Ashley Holzer, if the names are familiar to you...)
