Brain Says What?

As some of you know, I ride horses. I know, I know, it's totally random.When I was in highschool, I competed like a Mo-Fo in competitions, jumping fences that were entirely too high at paces that were entirely too fast. Later on, mostly because competing made me so nervous I would literally throw up, I learned how to break and train horses instead, which kept me far from the show ring and happily in the round pen. In college, I figured out that people would pay BIG MONEY for someone to get on horses that were considered to be “difficult.” And by difficult, I mean crazy with a capital C. Luckily, in the saddle, I’m harder to get rid of than a bad case of crabs, so I cleaned up riding horses named Lizzie (think Lizzie Borden) and Grand Canyon (yeah…he was that big) and CiCi (as in, C ya later, I’m going to kick you in the face and run away as fast as I can).

Why do I ride? Who knows? Maybe it’s because when I was 7 years old I decided that I wanted to have a great conversation starter for first dates:

“So, what do you do for fun?”
“I break horses”
“…..”
“Like, for riding”
“….”
“….”
“Oh. Well, that’s….different.”

Maybe it’s because I think scars look cool. Maybe it’s because I have control issues. Maybe it’s because I like the feel of power between my legs (oh, yeah, I went there). But whatever the reason, I mounted up when I was 7 years old and haven’t stopped since.

Of course, just because I’ve been riding for 20 years doesn’t mean that I’ve been riding well. I had my last riding lesson at the age of 18, just before I left for college, which means it’s been 9 years since I’ve had formal instruction. And although I’ve been picking up odd jobs training and teaching (because once you’re over the age of 25, hooking ain’t as lucrative), there’s something about a wildly unpredictable and out-of-control 3-year-old that puts riding function before riding form, if you know what I mean.

Do I stay on? Yes.

Is it pretty? About as pretty as a crime-scene.

So back to my trainer’s I went yesterday to start some bi-monthly lessons. I say bi-monthly because lessons are HELLA expensive, because horseback riding is a rich person’s sport. Again, I have no idea how I managed to find one of the most expensive hobbies known to man, but I did, and now I’m paying the price, literally.

Well, the lesson went great…or…it would have gone great if my brain had been connected to my body in any way, shape or form. The problem with horseback riding is that it’s 90% muscle-memory. When you perform a maneuver, say jump a jump, you have no recollection of keeping your heals down or working the reins or folding into jump position over the fence. Heck, if you’re scared enough, sometimes you have no recollection of the jump altogether (aah, the near-death experiences of my youth).

So, while my brain was a well-oiled machine that was approaching a jump with confidence, control, and poise, my body was an unsightly collection of parts flying out at all angles and sending a crap-ton of miscommunications to the poor, patient animal I was mounted upon. Of course, the jump would be botched and the horse would be frenzied with my clumsy signals, and after I would finally calm him down, he would look back at me as if he was saying, “What the hell was THAT?!?” Hey, at least ONE of us can communicate well.

This is what it looked like in my mind:

This is what it looked like in real life:

And the funniest part would be when my trainer would explain exactly what I did wrong. He would tell me that I was falling forward and giving him his head too early and not legging before the fence and yadda yadda yadda….and I the only thing I could reply was, “I know.”

I knew that I was leaning forward when I should be sitting up, relinquishing control at the wrong times. I knew that the take-off spot was going to be long and I should have legged the crap out of him to fix it.
I knew all of it.
My body just wouldn’t listen.

So, I guess rusty would be an understatement when describing my current riding ability, but hey, that’s what 10 years of riding babies and crazies will do to you. My mind remembers everything that I learned from 10 years of lesson and training programs, but my body has gotten older. And heavier. And turned into lot more fat and a lot less muscle. While I might still be a great rider in my mind, my body apparently has to re-learn, well, practically everything.

But you know what? Rusty or not, botched fences or no, near-death experiences aside, I still had a great time. Riding is my zen. It’s my passion and my religion. It’s that one place where all my stress melts away and it’s just me and the horse and nothing else.

There’s things that we do and things that define us. Riding absolutely defines me, and I hope that when I’m 80 years old, I’ll still be a rider, even if it’s just in my mind.