(no subject)
This afternoon I sat down to write this post and I realized something. Why am I sitting here complaining to the internet about not riding, when it's gorgeous out and my horse is ten minutes from here? I couldn't answer that question, so I smothered every excuse my fractious mind came up with and headed off to the barn. I got there, some 10 minutes later, and the night girl had already fed. Finn was standing in the arena with his buddy, calmly munching his hay. I didn't want to disturb his majesty, so I cleaned his stall instead. With his stall done, I started to head back to my car, feeling somewhat lame. Then I stopped myself. And I rode my damned horse anyway. It may have only been for 20 minutes, bareback, at walk, but I silenced the excuses and rode anyway. I threw his buddy in a stall, groomed him, sort of, and threw myself on. Finally.
Anyway, so this is what I was going to post about:
Riding alone is both a blessing and a curse.
I am the only boarder at this new barn. The owner has a full time job. Since I've taken over feeding on weekday mornings, I am frequently the only person out there, ever. There are two houses in front of the barn, but they're not horse people. I don't know if they even pay attention to what's going on back there. This is sometimes unsettling.
If something goes wrong, there is no one around.
Let's think about that for a second. If Finn spooks hard, or bucks, or whatever, and I come flying off, how long will it take before someone realizes I'm laying in a heap in the sand? That thought is always on the back of my mind.
But also...
If Finn spooks hard, or bucks me off, or whatever, and I dust myself off and get back on... no one saw that right?
Fear comes from fear of injury, fear of embarrassment, and worst of all, loosing control. The first two both come from the latter. The last time Finn threw me it was in the middle of a show, in front of everyone. It was the most debilitating fall, confidence wise, that I've ever had. It took me close to a year to ever ride in that field again. Not two months before that fateful show, Finn had thrown me in the same field, in the same manner (explosive spook). That time I got right back on, and rode along unfazed. The difference? No one saw.
So I can't decide whether I want to love or hate riding alone every time. I miss having friends to ride with, but at least I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself if Finn and I decide to fail at riding that day.
Anyway, so this is what I was going to post about:
Riding alone is both a blessing and a curse.
I am the only boarder at this new barn. The owner has a full time job. Since I've taken over feeding on weekday mornings, I am frequently the only person out there, ever. There are two houses in front of the barn, but they're not horse people. I don't know if they even pay attention to what's going on back there. This is sometimes unsettling.
If something goes wrong, there is no one around.
Let's think about that for a second. If Finn spooks hard, or bucks, or whatever, and I come flying off, how long will it take before someone realizes I'm laying in a heap in the sand? That thought is always on the back of my mind.
But also...
If Finn spooks hard, or bucks me off, or whatever, and I dust myself off and get back on... no one saw that right?
Fear comes from fear of injury, fear of embarrassment, and worst of all, loosing control. The first two both come from the latter. The last time Finn threw me it was in the middle of a show, in front of everyone. It was the most debilitating fall, confidence wise, that I've ever had. It took me close to a year to ever ride in that field again. Not two months before that fateful show, Finn had thrown me in the same field, in the same manner (explosive spook). That time I got right back on, and rode along unfazed. The difference? No one saw.
So I can't decide whether I want to love or hate riding alone every time. I miss having friends to ride with, but at least I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself if Finn and I decide to fail at riding that day.