I was reflecting on what got me started in horses. Like most women, I was drawn to horses as a child, but my parents couldn't afford the luxury of lessons let alone a horse of my own. I contented myself with the rare treat of being near horses when I visited my cousins who lived beside a horse ranch and when I was in my teens, went on an escorted trail ride once. Friends in high-school had horses but aside getting to sit horseback a time or two, I never had the pleasure of learning to ride.
It wasn't until I was in my thirties that I jumped at the chance to take horseback lessons. I was hooked the first day. Sadly, though my heart was willing, my body was not. I've never been much of a physical person, my livelihood is made behind a keyboard, sitting in a comfy computer chair. Still, I found a way to make it work, every sweaty, painful moment of it. I managed to find a wonderful first horse, a 13.2 hand Welsh C pony named Eric. He was clever and bright and careful with his less than athletic rider.
Due to life-issues, my husband and I had to move shortly after getting Eric. At our new location, I found a new trainer and enjoyed a few clinics with a couple other trainers. I discovered how flawed my first trainer's instructions had been. I stopped falling off nearly so much. I don't think I was ever a very good rider, but Eric didn't mind that my hands weren't that soft and I learned a lot from him. I enjoyed the thrill of riding and the joy of having him in my life.
Of course, more life issues came and went and I ended up passing Eric down to my young cousin as I took care of smoothing out the wrinkles in my perfect plans, he had that forgiving nature. I wish things could have been different, but how often do we get what we wish for?
A few years went by and always I longed to ride again. There's something about the bond with a horse and that time spent outside not thinking about work and life and the little things. I found a local trainer and started taking lessons. Off and on I took lessons for about two years. I had this dream about getting myself a Spanish Horse, an Andalusian or Lusitano or some cross. My budget was less than a quarter of what that type of horse would cost me. It came down to, getting a horse or just keep on dreaming.
With my trainer's help, I found a nice 8 year old quarter-horse cross who's about 15.0 hands. I named him Rory.
He and I haven't quite clicked yet.
I wonder if I made the right choice. I've only had Rory for 5 months now, but I feel every bit the complete, green amateur. I am the stereotype of the middle-aged woman getting a horse. What the hell am I doing?
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