As I mentioned, I've recently started riding after a nearly two-year hiatus. As I also mentioned, I have learned that it is a super-bad idea to take a nearly two-year hiatus from riding.
I started getting sore before my first riding lesson was over. By the time I made it home I could hardly sit, let alone walk. I'm not saying I ever had the greatest leg (my IHSA coach can attest to that), but now I have not even the shadowiest remains of leg. And I'm pathetically out of shape, like huffing and puffing after a couple laps around the ring out of shape. Also, my left ankle, which was weak and annoying before has now officially gone to crap.
Nothing works the way it used to. I know what I'm supposed to do, but my body doesn't cooperate and It's incredibly infuriating to not be able to ride the way I know I can. I'm sure anyone who has ever tried to get back into riding after an extended absence can relate.
Adding another interesting layer is the fact that I've resumed my riding career with a new trainer. My new coach is great, she's very understanding about how life sometimes intervenes with our equine plans, but she's never seen me ride when I was in shape. She only has my word that I've ridden for 18 years and showed etc.
Every time my leg flails around like an over-cooked noodle, or I miss a distance or botch a canter depart I almost feel like I need to say, "No really, I used to ride," or "I used to have a leg, I promise!" just to prove I'm not lying about my experience level.
But, those would only come off like excuses. It's an ongoing lesson in humility each time I ride. The only solution is to prove my abilities over time. In the meantime my pride will just have to adjust.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Monday, February 3, 2014
Getting to Know You
As I previously mentioned, there have been some changes in my life recently. Namely, I upended my life in the midwest and moved to the mid-atlantic. I also started riding again.
It was so great to step in a barn again and smell that familiar aroma of horse and hay. Walking down the long aisle hearing the sounds of gentle crunching and the occasional snort was a balm for my stressed-out soul.
See, it was actually about six months after I moved here that I started riding. It was a whirlwind transition as I started my super-cool-big-kid job about a week after we arrived. For a long time my cool job kept me from dwelling on the upheaval of relocation. I poured myself into my work (it really is a neat place) and tried not to think about leaving my family behind, my friends behind, how I hated driving in this new town, how nothing was the same anymore...but then work started getting stressful.
Then I started to unravel. It wasn't fun, but it helped me realize that I needed invest myself in things besides my work. So, I decided to start riding again.
It's been great so far. I like the barn, the people seem nice and my new instructor is worth every penny I pay and every extra mile I drive. It's no secret to horse people that horses are often the best therapy.
Each time I've ridden at my new barn I've had a different horse. First there was the cranky and slow one, then a hot one who hated having his ears touched and had to be bridled in a unique way, then a sweet green one, then a non-steering draft cross and so on.
As I was cooling one of the horses out after a lesson one time, I sighed. I suddenly realized I missed the familiarity of the horses I left behind. The ones whose personality quirks I already knew. Doesn't stop, hates left turns, doesn't like the short distances etc. Having to go through the awkward getting-to-know-you stages all over again made me homesick. Then it hit me that this was a bigger metaphor for my new life.
I left my friends behind and now I had to go through the act of making friends all over again. Worse, there was a different set of cultural norms in this place and I felt like I was always running afoul of them. I missed the familiarity of my old life. Everything from my family and friends down to little stupid stuff like restaurants and the gardening store I used to frequent.
I still miss my old home and my old life. I'm still having a little trouble making friends, but it is getting easier. Even if the horses are different and have a whole host of quirks that need to be learned, the ritual of brushing, tacking up, riding, untacking, brushing is a therapy that's familiar and most welcome.
It was so great to step in a barn again and smell that familiar aroma of horse and hay. Walking down the long aisle hearing the sounds of gentle crunching and the occasional snort was a balm for my stressed-out soul.
See, it was actually about six months after I moved here that I started riding. It was a whirlwind transition as I started my super-cool-big-kid job about a week after we arrived. For a long time my cool job kept me from dwelling on the upheaval of relocation. I poured myself into my work (it really is a neat place) and tried not to think about leaving my family behind, my friends behind, how I hated driving in this new town, how nothing was the same anymore...but then work started getting stressful.
Then I started to unravel. It wasn't fun, but it helped me realize that I needed invest myself in things besides my work. So, I decided to start riding again.
It's been great so far. I like the barn, the people seem nice and my new instructor is worth every penny I pay and every extra mile I drive. It's no secret to horse people that horses are often the best therapy.
Each time I've ridden at my new barn I've had a different horse. First there was the cranky and slow one, then a hot one who hated having his ears touched and had to be bridled in a unique way, then a sweet green one, then a non-steering draft cross and so on.
As I was cooling one of the horses out after a lesson one time, I sighed. I suddenly realized I missed the familiarity of the horses I left behind. The ones whose personality quirks I already knew. Doesn't stop, hates left turns, doesn't like the short distances etc. Having to go through the awkward getting-to-know-you stages all over again made me homesick. Then it hit me that this was a bigger metaphor for my new life.
I left my friends behind and now I had to go through the act of making friends all over again. Worse, there was a different set of cultural norms in this place and I felt like I was always running afoul of them. I missed the familiarity of my old life. Everything from my family and friends down to little stupid stuff like restaurants and the gardening store I used to frequent.
I still miss my old home and my old life. I'm still having a little trouble making friends, but it is getting easier. Even if the horses are different and have a whole host of quirks that need to be learned, the ritual of brushing, tacking up, riding, untacking, brushing is a therapy that's familiar and most welcome.
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