For the past 26 years, the number one thing on my bucket
list has been to ride a horse. There’s no real reason that it took so long to
happen. I’m not scared of them, I’m not from a big city with no horses, and my
family was never against it in anyway. I just never really had the opportunity,
or perhaps it was divine intervention?
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| Me and Horse: A Selfie |
For my 15th birthday by parents gave me horseback
riding lessons. My best friend at the time was taking them and I had gone out
to the stables with her a few times. I was not allowed to actually ride the
animals but I got to help brush them, braid their manes, etc. Then, much like
my 3rd grade gymnastics instructor, the lady who ran the stables up
and moved away with no notice. I don’t know if she stole my parents’ money or
just stole my pony-ridin' dreams. Either way: messed up, lady!
So in response to the awesome Bucketlist Birthday Bash I threw
for her last year, Desiree arranged for me to go horseback riding for my 26th
birthday. Scheduled for the Saturday after the 18th (my birthday…
for future reference), it was beginning to look like my horseback riding dreams
would be dashed again when it rained every single day in May. We cancelled and
rescheduled for the next Saturday, hoping it would clear up by then. All the
weather apps kept us guessing for days. It would predict sun for the day, then
a few hours later, change to thunderstorms. Finally around Thursday everyone
seemed to agree that Saturday would be a perfect, sunny day.
As the anticipation grew, so did the anxiety. A couple
friends (a term I use hesitantly in this context) decided it would be great fun
to freak me out about the upcoming event. Although I logically knew they were
messing with me, their made up stats about bucking horses, horse-related
deaths, and the aggression of these enormous beasts began to get to me. Then I
ended up puppy-sitting last minute for my sister. The night before the ride was
bound to be filled with excitement, anxiety, and much tossing and turning. This
was not helped by the addition of a whining puppy.
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| Desiree, me and Shooter. |
But the morning came and before I knew it I was standing not
two feet away from an enormous horse. After expressing my concerns and lack of
experience to our young guide (we think she was 22ish), she told me not to worry
and that they would put me on the kid’s horse, Shooter.
Turns out Shooter was the biggest horse there, which
intimidated me for a minute until I remembered that inexperienced surfers use
longer boards and that the smaller horses were probably more dangerous and then
I thought, why am I comparing horseback riding to surfing? They're nothing alike and I’m terrible at
surfing! And while my mind was being ridiculous, I suddenly found myself standing
next to this giant beast with one foot in the stirrup.
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| Just mounted |
From there, everything was amazing.
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| Geeking out with excitement |
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| Just one of the breathtaking views |
Getting on the horse (with the help of a little stepping
stool), getting my feet in the stirrups, directing the animal, going up and
down rocky terrain… it all seemed so natural. The other two people who had
signed up for the same time slot never showed so it was just me, Desiree, and
our guide. Shooter was real old and liked to lag behind. He would occasionally just
stop for no apparent reason but I think he was just tired. To be fair, Desiree
and our guide are both tiny little girls and poor shooter had a heavier load
than he was probably used to, being nicknamed the kids’ horse. But, regardless,
he carried on like a champ and even trotted a few times, which wasn’t horribly
comfortable. The views were amazing and there was something surprisingly
fulfilling about getting to the top of a small hill, even if it was Shooter
doing all the work.
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| The start of the ride |
In the end, I walked like a cowboy for about an hour and
have been fine ever since. I think my considerable time on a bike actually
helped with the soreness. I loved being on a horse so much, though, that it’s
probably a good thing I didn’t experience it as a youth. I probably would have
turned into one of those girls who was obsessed with horses and begged my
parents to get a pony and been a real brat about it. As it was, I was just a brat about less expensive things.
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| Giving Shooter some sugar |
I would say this was one of my better birthdays. Being
closer to 30 than to 20 isn’t looking so bad from up here.
