It's the smell
Occasionally I need to give myself a bigger nudge than usual to make sure that I'm not pretending faking lying just a bit sad just a bit tired under-estimating my capacity for activity, and so today I made a non-negotiable appointment to go to the stables. I made no promises to do anything, just to dress sufficiently to cover my nakedness (if not quite well enough to be around livestock), drive there, walk in the gate and check in with the coach. OK, that's quite a lot by today's standards.
It felt like a very very long drive, which is disturbing because it's not actually far at all. But I got there safely, and timed my arrival for the afternoon break between lessons. I was greeted warmly and by name (not my name exactly, but the same wrong name that this coach tends to call me*), and I explained that I was not well enough to be useful, but wanted to visit. The coach nodded, "To have a smell of the place," she said with impressive accuracy. Exactly.
I was invited to join in/collapse on a bench for the volunteer induction information session I'd interrupted. This year the RDA is implementing a much more structured training program than before, which concentrates on the riders and helping at lessons. While I'd picked up bits and pieces last year I have a by no means firm grasp on the official niceties of the place. I expect I'll continue to be a horse-and-gear helper mostly, but if I'm able I'm happy to learn the official curriculum and tick boxes as required, with the caveat that I should not be relied upon to catch anyone with fewer than four functioning legs. This translates quite easily as "not being a side walker" so that's pretty straightforward.
I wasn't really able to absorb any actual information today, but I have a checklist of my very own. Not the actual information booklet because they've run out, but I can always study the precious last copy in the office.
Had a few moments of scritch time with Patrick (a horse) but really couldn't hold myself up, so slithered against a wall and watched a lesson get underway. My big achievement for the day was opening a gate for a kid in a wheelchair, who at absolute maximum stretch (I waited for him to try (it's in the rules)) was one inch too short to do it himself.
So, what did a self-propelled visit to The Place Of Maxiumum Happiness do for my physical and mental well-being today? Physically, it served to establish that with determination and the right kind of encouragement I still have nasty CFS and can't do much at all right now. Mentally it was glorious to get out and see human and horsie faces. I could pass on the flies and the sadly depleted neighbouring wetlands, but I really enjoyed the vibe of the place. However, the good/bad/neutral news was that I did not miraculously get All Better just because I got to go to see the horsies.
In summary: Still sick. Horsies nice. Probably slightly more sick now through over-exertion. Slightly happier.
(*) Felicity, if you're wondering, which tends to be one of the most common go-to alternative names for Stephanie, the other being Meredith. I don't mind; I don't attach a lot of importance** to names.
(**) i.e. I can never connect names and faces. People+history+conversations are fine, but names and faces defeat me. Throw in a haircut or a new pair of glasses and I'm unlikely to recognise my best friends (so please let me get close enough to read your name badge at Swancon). And dates. Marital status tends to slide on by. Number of children is a bit of an issue. Formal qualifications pfft. Anyway, moving on.
It felt like a very very long drive, which is disturbing because it's not actually far at all. But I got there safely, and timed my arrival for the afternoon break between lessons. I was greeted warmly and by name (not my name exactly, but the same wrong name that this coach tends to call me*), and I explained that I was not well enough to be useful, but wanted to visit. The coach nodded, "To have a smell of the place," she said with impressive accuracy. Exactly.
I was invited to join in/collapse on a bench for the volunteer induction information session I'd interrupted. This year the RDA is implementing a much more structured training program than before, which concentrates on the riders and helping at lessons. While I'd picked up bits and pieces last year I have a by no means firm grasp on the official niceties of the place. I expect I'll continue to be a horse-and-gear helper mostly, but if I'm able I'm happy to learn the official curriculum and tick boxes as required, with the caveat that I should not be relied upon to catch anyone with fewer than four functioning legs. This translates quite easily as "not being a side walker" so that's pretty straightforward.
I wasn't really able to absorb any actual information today, but I have a checklist of my very own. Not the actual information booklet because they've run out, but I can always study the precious last copy in the office.
Had a few moments of scritch time with Patrick (a horse) but really couldn't hold myself up, so slithered against a wall and watched a lesson get underway. My big achievement for the day was opening a gate for a kid in a wheelchair, who at absolute maximum stretch (I waited for him to try (it's in the rules)) was one inch too short to do it himself.
So, what did a self-propelled visit to The Place Of Maxiumum Happiness do for my physical and mental well-being today? Physically, it served to establish that with determination and the right kind of encouragement I still have nasty CFS and can't do much at all right now. Mentally it was glorious to get out and see human and horsie faces. I could pass on the flies and the sadly depleted neighbouring wetlands, but I really enjoyed the vibe of the place. However, the good/bad/neutral news was that I did not miraculously get All Better just because I got to go to see the horsies.
In summary: Still sick. Horsies nice. Probably slightly more sick now through over-exertion. Slightly happier.
(*) Felicity, if you're wondering, which tends to be one of the most common go-to alternative names for Stephanie, the other being Meredith. I don't mind; I don't attach a lot of importance** to names.
(**) i.e. I can never connect names and faces. People+history+conversations are fine, but names and faces defeat me. Throw in a haircut or a new pair of glasses and I'm unlikely to recognise my best friends (so please let me get close enough to read your name badge at Swancon). And dates. Marital status tends to slide on by. Number of children is a bit of an issue. Formal qualifications pfft. Anyway, moving on.