40 Days Till 40 (Day 6)

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

So, here it is, Day 6 in my 40 Days Till 40 Blog Fest.  This was not just any day, my Lovelies.  Oh no, no, this was a day which shall henceforth be called, “Back in the Saddle Day.” 

It’s been at least 6 years since last I rode a horse.  Truth be told, I thought it would have been at least 6 (or 60) more.  Were it not for winning the special gift package that included a one hour horseback ride for two, it may well have been. 

Don’t get me wrong; I love horses.  I have just come to the conclusion that they don’t love me back (Have you seen  The Ring?  Yeah, like that.).

This realization came to me at a young age when, during an unfortunate horseback riding incident, my horse took off running—with me on it.  It galloped madly until my dad rode up next to the horse and saved me.  As a teenager, a close friend was kicked in the head by a horse, rendering her mentally diminished.  I remember visiting her in the hospital and being terrified to go near a horse again. Then, a few years ago, during a horseback ride while vacationing in Canada, my horse got spooked, reared and threw me off its back.  That solidified that riding horses was not for me.

But I got on a horse today.  How could I not?  My daughter, after all, was counting on me.  Well, and it was free.  

The ranch hands/trail guides must have sensed my trepidation about riding a horse right off.  In response, I swear they gave me the slowest horse known to man.  For the next hour of my horseback ride, this horse (named “Three Socks” because three of his feet were white) plodded along at a speed, which, if I had been walking aside him, I would have surpassed.  Honestly, this suited me just fine. 

“Keep urging him along,” they would say when he would practically stop.  I moved the reins forward and dug my heels into the horse’s side.  Slow and steady Three Socks went.  At this cruising speed, we wandered through the high desert terrain, past a frozen stream, the local prison, a training facility and auction house for wild mustang, a golf course, two owls and a hawk…  Happy Trails to Yoooooooou!

About halfway through our one-hour excursion, I could tell my horse was completely over the ride.  He was huffing and puffing like he was going to pass out.  I kept telling him, “Come on, Three Socks.  You got this.”  Nothing like a horse who moans, groans and walks slower to make one think she needs to lose weight!

Three Socks tried to nibble at the low shrubs we passed.  “Don’t let him eat,” the trail guides would gently remind me.  Three Socks would grunt and wheeze when I corrected this behavior.  I told him I totally understood.  Who didn’t want a snack and a nap? 

At the end of the ride, one of the trail guides (a darling young buck who apparently trains as a bullrider) taught my daughter and I a trick dismount.  Rather than just hopping off the horse sideways, we had to shimmy backwards over the saddle and off the rear end.  Oh yes, nothing like sliding face first over the, ahem, business end of a horse.  My daughter, of course, insisted on doing this twice.  “Do it again, mom!”  No, thank you, I was fine just watching, thanks.  I was too busy trying to learn how to stand again, anyway.

All in all, the ride was pretty awesome.  It was a beautiful, crisp day and there were actual moments (in between the horse’s wheezing and grunting) when I felt like the horse would even occasionally listen to my commands.  And at such a snail’s pace, I could just soak in the scenery.

Horseback riding?  Nailed it. 

Now if my legs would just stop hurting….Ha.  

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….