Nov
24
Next spring it’ll be two years since I started riding again. Two years, wow, you’d think I would have advanced pretty significantly by this point, but ha ha ha no! I mean I’m a better rider than I was, for sure, and now I know exactly how to put Little Joe’s blanket on instead of staring mouthbreathingly at the straps for 20 continuous minutes before attaching them incorrectly and also having the entire thing on backwards, but I’m still quite the beginner.
I only rode during a lesson when I started this new hobby. Eventually the situation evolved to me paying a set fee per month for access on my own to ride Joe twice a week, and that’s worked out just fine for me. Would I be improving faster with the expertise of a trainer? You bet. But am I riding exactly how I want each time, and more importantly, able to come and go as I please without having to coordinate with someone else’s (very busy and ever-changing) schedule? Yes, and that’s truly alleviated a lot of ongoing anxiety I was having about riding.
On Joe days, I come to the barn when I’m ready, and I do my Horse Chores: mucking out his stall, filling it with fresh bedding, filling his water, filling his hay bags, and setting out his feed. I frickin LOVE Horse Chores, let me tell you whut. Horse poop does not bother me one bit and I get so much satisfaction out of transforming his stall into a clean and refreshed environment.
Once I brought Dylan with me and as he shoveled next to me he said, “You know, this feels like real work.” I knew just what he meant: not real work in the sense that it’s hard (although it is, kinda! I set my fitness watch the minute I get there because you better believe I’m counting it as a workout) but like it means something. I don’t know why scooping out cat litter doesn’t feel this way even a little, but Horse Chores are deeply rewarding.
Then I groom him and tack him up and take him to one of the nearby arenas and ride as long as I want, which usually isn’t very long, maybe half an hour or so. If there is a particular thing I am working on, it’s finding stability and relative comfort in Joe’s trot, which has been charitably described by other people as “bouncy.” Imagine if a malfunctioning washing machine was also a horse, is how I’d describe it. I am sure I have a better seat during a trot than I used to, but there is MUCH room for improvement.
I do like riding, but my favorite parts of these days are less about being in the saddle and more about spending time with Joe, saying hi to all the other horses, handing out carrots, petting the barn cats, inhaling the cortisol-lowering combo of manure/wood/hay/horses/leather. I have no interest in competing in horse shows; the place where I go hosts a LOT of shows and it seems like that becomes the main driver for plenty of riders: the idea that you’re always working towards the next goal, which is an event of some kind. I am legitimately only there to soak up the horsey vibes and fuck around a little.
I feel like I’ve become a bit more clear-eyed about being around horses. I think you can watch too many cutesy horse videos and end up attributing too many traits to them that really aren’t there. It doesn’t feel like bonding with a dog or cat, it’s more like … an honor? Gahh that sounds so corny but it DOES feel that way, like it is a real privilege to be so close to such a big animal and to be allowed to touch it and pick at its feet and lead it around and put things on it and even clamber rudely onto its back, good god. They can be so gentle and patient, even if you are a buffoon who routinely tries to put on their harness upside down. They feel like a wild part of the earth that we humans are for some reason permitted to join, and together I get to feel a part of that wildness in me.
They are also nervous-nelly prey animals who can absolutely lose their shit over the most random things, which certainly keeps things interesting. I definitely believe in the stress-reducing benefits of horses but there probably aren’t too many other therapies where you can go from calm trauma-healing mindfulness to pants-shitting fear and/or injury/death in the blink of an eye.
All to say, it’s been a real gift to have Little Joe in my life over the last couple years. I could never have pictured this, re-embracing my inner horse girl at 50. It makes me feel lucky, it makes me feel hopeful, it makes me feel alive.
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Doing an activity that brings hope and connection to the natural world – amazing. I have such vivid sense memories of my English riding lessons age 8-10. Don’t think I want to fall off a great tall beastie at my age. I go out hiking and watch for wildlife for my nature fix. But I’m cheering you on.
And it’s the season of fuzzy winter horse coats!
Lovely! Would love to see a photo of Joe and his rider!
I’m so happy you are still doing this! Your last Little Joe post really resonated with me.
I feel that way about bellydance: a lot of my classmates at my studio are working their way to perform, teach, etc. God speed to them! Meanwhile, I’m just happy to have a physical activity that gets me out of my head and is ZERO stakes
I love that you do this for the experience of being around the barn and horses. And most of all for yourself.
Love this! Very happy for you, Linda.
Totally awesome.