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| Dolly is a lovely mover. I'm a not-so-lovely sitter. We're working it out. |
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I
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f there’s one thing notable about experienced (I
like that better than “senior”) riders, it’s that we are well aware of our
shortcomings. If we’re not, we tend
never to get to be experienced riders.
We quit because we’ve done our bodies in or because we’ve reached a
level of frustration that makes pretty much any other sport seem significantly
more sensible than this whole climbing aboard a semi-wild animal bodily-damage
festival that is Equestrian Sports. I’m
pleased to be in the group that never overestimated our abilities, and thus
made it into the “old enough to know better” clan.
And that’s not even close to true. I put all that out there into the Universe in
the hope that it will take pity on me. But
I have slowed down.
On one side of my desk is a stack of glossy horse
mags with pages dog-eared to ads for cool horse stuff I haven’t yet owned and
training tips I haven’t yet tried. On
the other is a stack of applications for Medicare Supplement Insurance. I’m at a crossroads, and I know it. I’m choosing to ignore it. No, that’s not a subtle way of saying I’m
senile. I really haven’t forgotten my
birth date or who is President now. I
just ignore those things, too.
As I type, I’m feeling a few aches and pains. Some are just the ones I’ve gotten used to
having, given nicknames too, and barely notice anymore. A few can be directly attributed to Zip’s
stall rest episode, from which we’re both healing nicely. But there’s a whole new batch centered in my
upper shoulders and forearms that are a gift from my new old horse, Baby Doll. My real-world friends know her as Jess’s fearless
eventing horse, Dolly. My Facebook
friends only know her as that pretty dark bay mare with the stunning smile I’ve
posted a dozen pictures of since she came back home in May.
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| Dolly and Jess...a symphony to my rock band! |
Discounting my parents’ insistence that I go to
college without benefit of equestrian program which set me back a few years, I’ve
never stopped riding for any protracted period, despite injuries of various
quality, so I like to think I’m in pretty good shape and still competent in the
saddle. And I rode Dolly during her
tenure in Pennsylvania. I do love a good
clinic! It’s like a show without all the
bathing and uncomfortable clothes. So
she and I are far from strangers. Still,
getting on her for the first time in my own ring, alone and without guidance or
distraction, was a bit of a heart-stopping moment. I reminded myself of a young 4-H’er I knew
who would hold her breath through the whole jump course, then faint at the
end. I didn’t faint. Yay, me!
We’re well past that now, and we’ve segued into
small cross-rails and the occasional barrel run, but getting past my Fear of
Flying was no small thing. I’ve pretty
much had my body’s limit of concussions (3), broken noses (2), and repairs to
parts torn asunder (there’s no symbol for infinite on my keyboard). And believing in my heart that there’s no
such thing as a 100% safe horse didn’t help.
Don’t try to change my mind. Even
Leo, who likes to stand and watch the guys blasting with dynamite for the new
road, has spooked under me once…only once in over a decade, but still….
But all that by the way, the shoulder aches are my
proof that I reached outside my comfort zone and into Dolly’s world, where
speed is of the essence and extra legs grow spontaneously at awkward moments,
like during downward transitions. At
first, I was holding on for dear life.
There’s nothing more intimidating to me than a horse with a really long
stride in a really short arena. Visions
of flying (alone) over the fence dance in my head. But I’ve moved up a level now, and the
shoulder aches are a result of holding the mare together for an hour of amazing
fun and occasional brilliant moments. I’m
proud of me for that.
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| Yay for clinics! |
There are keys to overcoming fear. It helps (a lot) to have drugs handy. I’m please to say I didn’t actually take any,
but holding the Xanax bottle in my hand warded off some evil spirits
nonetheless. It also helps to have
someone to talk to who won’t judge you too harshly. My daughter is great for that. Too great.
She was so supportive, I nearly considered jumping something higher than
six inches!
It’s helpful to have a back-up plan. By that I mean someone on speed dial who can
scrape you up and cart you off to the ER, and a basic scenario stuck in your
head that can guide you should you feel too ill-at-ease to continue to stretch
your wings. Quitting should always be an
option. Yeah, it’s important not to let
yourself become too dependent on that one.
You don’t want to quit in your mind before you’ve even begun. But allowing yourself to back down when threatened
is okay. My first ride on Dolly here at
home lasted maybe 15 minutes. She did
nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. I was simply exhausted from the sheer anxiety
that was causing all my muscles to contract, so I quit. It was good.
We cookied, bathed, and hung out on the lawn. The next time I didn’t have all that anxiety,
so we did 20 minutes. Before that ride
was over, we were cantering without the speed taking my breath away.
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| Not me. Not now. Not ever. But it's nice to know Dolly can do this. |
Now, probably 20 rides into this relationship, we’re
actually bonded. I found a bit and
bridle she likes. That was key. (Jess, if you’re reading this, just putting
your jumping tack on her was like red-flagging a bull….Jeez!) We’ve got the saddle balance thing worked
out, which was also key. She’s a
downhill horse, so I was perched on the saddle no matter how much stuff I put
under it, and perchiness does not foster confidence. We cured that with an awesome little
ventilated gel pad I found that fits right into those little hollows on both
sides of her withers. And we’ve got the
signals down. Now I need to do enough
water aerobics to get those shoulder muscles back into a shape they haven’t
needed since Zip went on strike some
years ago.
So up we go!
I’m still not interested in competing ever again, though a few clinics
would be a nice thing. But the internal
competition is tough, and I’m pleased as can be that I’m winning against my fears
and my age. Here’s to all the
experienced riders who are winning that same competition! Ride on!
