In the beginning...

Inspired by Amanda Neal's blog, A Fat Girl & A Fat Horse, I thought it might help me with my personal issue with riding if I found a place to store my feelings and share my thoughts. No, I am not obese. And Amanda does a great job addressing the issue. What I have is different. I have a fear riding horses. Not the kind where I am scared to be around them or even scared to get on them or even walk or trot. In fact, I can even jump anything you can trot up to without any apprehension at all. It's something more deep rooted, and I'm hoping by sharing my feelings I can find support and perhaps even give support to others in similar situations.

I'd pondered the idea of a blog for some time, and even have had some ideas, but those ideas would take me a lot longer to do and are a lot more involved than just typing my feelings or inspirations. I realized that this is something I can share and I know I'm not alone. I've met people who are fearful of riding only because they're aware of their ignorance; they may love horses and admire their beautiful, but feel uneasy with handling an animal so powerful. And there are people like me, who used to be fearless until a bad riding accident wrecked that confidence.

So I will begin by telling you a little about me and how I came to be the way that I am. I am 27 years old; I grew up riding in Minnesota (first western because my mother used to train and ride western, then when I was 12 I switched to huntseat). I graduated with my undergrad degree in Animal Science from the University of Minnesota, and then went for my Master's degree in Veterinary Epidemiology at Ohio State University. I graduated and I am a professional. I didn't get my first horses until I was 16, when I sneaked behind my parent's back and got a job, selected a boarding stable, then got a vet check and coggins pulled on two horses that I volunteered with at a therapeutic riding program. Both horses had some health issues and one was unsuitable for the program due to his disposition (he was a hotter type thoroughbred), so they sold them to me for $630 for the both of them. My husband tells me that I was a rather naughty teenager, but to be honest, there are probably a lot worse things I could have gone behind my parent's back and done. My mother found out the day I bought the horses, and my father found out a short time later.

As I mentioned, I rode western as a small child then switched to English when I was 12, when I began taking lessons at Fortuna Farm, stable of the late and great Max Von Blucher, founder of the AHHA and trainer of the champion Holsteiner stallion, Staccato. I rode many of their lesson horses and cherish those memories still today. They taught me to become a very good equitation rider, but I got no instruction on how to handle a horse that misbehaved. I spent years thinking "I will never fall off," and with so many people telling me what an excellent rider I was, I began to think I really was quite an excellent equestrianne.

When I was 15, I got on a friend's racehorse who'd just come off the track a couple days before. I'd ridden ex-racers before, but not anything so fresh off the track. He was a good boy, and for the first twenty minutes he did exactly what I asked. When he started to get a bit fast I applied steady pressure to the reins (I'd never been taught to half-halt!) and he took off, trying to reach the finish line. He got to the end of the arena, sat down, and I flew up and over. I got tangled in the reins and was drug for a bit before he kicked me in the head (shattered my velvet show helmet) and stepped on my ribcage, breaking 6 ribs multiple times and collapsing my lung. Ouch.

I was determined to ride again, so after a week in the ICU and 5 weeks of rest at home I bit the inside of my cheeks during the doctor's follow-up, smiled as hard as I could, and pretended it was not at all painful for me to bend or move to the side. He let me start riding again, and I began riding a 4 year old paint mare named Nada (for Nadabigenufspot...she didn't color out). I really enjoyed her and my mother paid for a month's lease, with the conditions that if she passed her vet exam and we did well for the month she would buy her for me. She was a very fun horse and I enjoyed her very much, up until the day she failed her vet exam (trotted off lame at the first flexation test) and the subsequent day, when I came out to ride her and she went a bit crazy, dumping me 3 times and breaking two fingers and my wrist (all the while, my mom is telling me to get back on the horse). Finally, with my hands unable to function, and my mother trying to hold the horse down from bucking and rearing on one side (lounge line slipped to the bit), and the horse's owner doing the same on the other side, and me pleading with my mom that I wanted to get off, she let me. Immediately, she dumped her owner, who started crying and saying she'd never done that before (and I believe her, so was so upset). I came back one more time at the end of my lease just to say goodbye. I don't know what happened to the mare. And after that, I decided I still wanted a horse, but instead I'd do halter horses. My mom wasn't crazy with the idea and said I couldn't have a horse if I wasn't going to ride it.

So that's how it started, Obviously, I started riding again and got dumped again, and the older I get the longer the pain is and the more perminant damage it does. I've broken a lot of bones and had stitches twice. But I'm determined to keep trying. I have been taking riding lessons for years and I keep my horses in training with a professional trainer. I have a 4 year old colt who's been in training for the past year that I raised since birth that I'm determined to grow to love riding as much as I love just being with him. So I'm going to cross my finders and try to make it happen.