L.A.

From L.A., Again

Flow

         I was thinking today on what being a rider has meant to me. The physical risk when horseback riding is very high.  Falling off a horse while jumping could result in broken bones, paralysis, and death, as well as a host of other more minor injuries.  Yet when horseback riding, I am extremely focused.  My entire body and mind is focused on the horse, the movement, and the jump. I am completely united with the horse, completely in sync with it’s movements. I have to be, otherwise I will not make the jump and put myself and my horse in a dangerous situation.  

Jumping is certainly high stress.  I panic almost every single time I get on the horse.  But the feeling of successfully clearing a jump, and knowing that you did it in a thrilling partnership with a 1,000 lb animal is so exciting.  The pound of the hooves as you approach the jump, the tangible excitement and release you can fell in your thighs through the horses powerful shoulders, the white noise of air whooshing through your hair, all keep you completely present in the moment. 

I would say it has definitely contributed to character growth.  When I fail, or the horse is uncooperative, it is very easy to get frustrated.  The dust in the ring is hot a heavy, I am sweating from the physical exertion, and my helmet is frying my head. The fear I experience riding must be conquered, I must retain a level head and a calm disposition, or the horse will react negatively to my vibes and nothing will be accomplished.  Therefore, in other high stress situations in life, I am never the one to freak out. I find myself frequently calming others down, as I “retain my cool” very easily. In addition, when I fall off a horse, usually I am experiencing physical pain.  But I must mentally push past it, remount, and continue practice.  On one occasion, after a particularly bad fall, I remember reaching over my shoulder and feeling blood coming through my sports bra and shirt.  But instead of letting the fear consume me, I got back on the horse, even more determined to complete the jump.  While cantering around the ring, I could not even feel my back, because I was so mentally focused on getting over the jump. If I let a bad situation (i.e. a naughty horse) get the best of me, I have given up.  The fact that I will be in great physical pain if I do not completely focus forces me to push everything out of my mind except for the act of completing the jump. The feeling of satisfaction after successfully completing a jump is worth the pain I must put out of my mind to complete it. When I am in the saddle, nothing else matters, I am completely present, working with the horse in an extraordinary activity. 

Pictured: my early days of riding, circa 2006