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| This is Moose. She's magnificent. |
And all of these are valid questions. I do teach beginner horseback riding lessons. I do own a wonderful horse named Faith.
This is Faith. I will ride her again one day.
And I have fallen off of her three times. All three happened within feet of (or literally at) the mounting block. All three resulted in nasty bruises but, luckily, no broken bones. The most recent one, I was just putting my weight into her saddle to try and determine what was her trigger for moving at the mounting block. I wasn't even in the saddle. So perhaps it was that one that really prompted my legit terror of getting on a horse.
I knew that I needed to take a break from trying to ride Faith. There was clearly something more going on and neither of us were ready to ride/be ridden. We discovered that Faith would jump sideways (and sometimes bolt) as soon as weight is put into her stirrup. So we decided to make sure that there are no medical issues causing this behavior. I had the chiropractor out and a saddle fitter to make sure that the saddle fit correctly (It didn't so I bought a new one that got the seal of approval from my wonderful saddle fitter) and I have the vet checking her out at the end of this month.
But I also now had zero confidence in riding. Not even just Faith. The thought of getting on a horse shook me to my bones. I considered just deciding never to ride. I enjoy groundwork and liberty work. I could be fine just lunging and learning groundwork, right? Riding wasn't the end all, be all. That's one of the beautiful things about my barn - there's no pressure, no expectations.
Somehow, though, deciding not to ride because I was scared felt like I was quitting. One of my wonderful instructors, Sarah, told me her story of her first horse and how she pushed through that and is so glad she did. She's brilliant and I knew she was right.. I didn't want my fear to keep me from enjoying everything a partnership with Faith could offer. Besides, how could I encourage my students to work through fear and persevere even when things are tough if I'm not willing to do it myself? I actually had a student at the time who was terrified of getting on Sheba. Sarah made me get on her - which I did, even though I was petrified - to show the kiddo how it's important to work through your fears. I gotta practice what I preach, right?
Still, there was no denying I was scared. I worked on a lot of different things with Faith (knowing that I wasn't going to be ready to try riding her again any time soon) and one thing we practiced was lining up at the mounting block. She'd line up and stand still. I'd stand on the first step and tell her how great she was. Move to the second step - again, tell her how amazing she was. But moving to the third step? Yeah, I could do it but my knees shook and my heart raced even just a bit. Perhaps it was a mental thing because I was just bracing for her to walk off (even though she hasn't lately) and perhaps it was because I don't like heights at all and was expecting to fall. I don't know. I just know that I was scared.
So, I decided the only thing to do was go to the expert (who'd been there all along but I knew I needed a little more one-on-one for all my issues). I reached out to my instructor/friend/boss/ mentor/hero, Kim, and asked for a riding lesson on Moose. Not Faith. First, I needed to just build my confidence back on a horse who was going to show up and be solid. If you didn't know that lesson horses are worth their weight in gold, you do now. Moose is a big gal and she's a lot of weight, and she's worth all of it in gold, platinum, silver, whatever. I knew that if I got onto Moose, she'd stand at the block.
Of course, I had to get on first.
Moose. Photo courtesy of Brooke Chapman.
Today was that lesson with Moose. I had been praying about it all week and especially this morning. I asked my mom to pray and I took lots of deep breaths leading up to the lesson. When I got Moose from the pasture, I asked her to please work with me and show up for me. I groomed her and took time to just ground myself with her. Kim helped me tack her up and I took her to the ring. She reminded me to be okay with the idea that it would be enough to just sit on Moose. Kim's not only a great instructor but she's a great human. She's got this otherworldly calm that just puts you at ease. She calms you down just by being there. And she.is.there.
I walked Moose around the ring and did her flexions to help her relax. Took a couple deep breaths myself. Kim urged me to think about my five senses as I took another lap. Okay. Time to go to the mounting block.
We lined up at the block and I put Moose's reins over her head. I climbed up to the top step without even thinking about it - 'cause if I thought about it, I'd take another lap.. And then it was time to put my foot in the stirrup.
I did.
The saddle slipped ever so slightly towards me.
Nope.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I got down and walked another lap.
We lined up again. I climbed up the steps again. Put my foot in the stirrup again. Felt the slip again. I asked Kim if I could verbalize my feelings. She said, "Of course."
"Okay, so when I put my foot in the stirrup, the saddle slides a little sideways and it makes me nervous." Maybe I should add that the first time I fell off Faith, it was because her girth wasn't tight enough (even though I'd checked it twice) and her saddle slipped.
Kim understood and she took hold of the other stirrup so that the saddle wouldn't slip. I stood on that block, one foot in the stirrup. Kim glanced under Moose's neck to keep an eye on her other student. It was now or never. If I got back down those steps, I wouldn't climb back up.
"Okay, Moose. Let's do this, girl." I gathered the reins and a good-size clump of mane into my left hand, made sure my foot was in the stirrup, and swung my other leg over her back. Kim guided my foot into the stirrup and I was on the horse.
Oh, crap. Oh, I'm on the horse.
I clutched the grab strap on my saddle and took a deep breath. Rolled my shoulders up and back. Kim suggested I just sit and get comfortable. There was no pressure to ride. She walked off to check on her other student and I took a few deep breaths.
Moose shifted her weight.
Oh, dear Lord, this is it, this is it, I'm gonna die. I wrapped my fingers in her mane. I took another breath. I looked at the trees and rubbed Moose's shoulders. I could do this. I needed to do this.
Over the next three minutes or three hours or three years (really, it could have been forever, I wouldn't have known, it sure felt like forever), every time Moose shifted or twitched, I immediately tensed. My fingers flexed in her mane.
And then, all of a sudden, I didn't. I just sat and talked to Moose and told her what a great girl she was and how amazing she was. She wasn't walking off, she wasn't in a hurry to do anything. If all we did today was stand at the block, she was there for that.
I don't even know if I knew how much I needed Moose's solidarity today.
Eventually, Kim walked with us as we took a few steps and then just stood again. And that was it. Nothing major, nothing incredible. But I'll tell you something - I felt amazing. Is my fear completely gone? Am I ready to hop on again with no hesitation? No. Definitely not.
It's going to take time. It's going to take me continuing to show up and get up and ride even just a few steps. And I can't forget my girl, Faith, in the meantime because the ultimate goal is to ride her. I'll continue to work with her on the ground so once she's medically cleared, we can really figure out her riding quirks.
I am so grateful for my Bramblewood crew that I learn alongside of every week.
But today I rode a horse. And I'm so glad that I faed my fears and worked through them, or began to work through them. Because how can I encourage others to work through things that are hard if I won't do it myself? Not even just at the barn but at school, too. I have a personal experience of persevering to share with my students. Just another example of how horses affect all aspects of my life!
Stay tuned to hear more about my journeys with Moose and with Faith!
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