WHY WE RIDE. . . . (author unknown)
I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as
many women who ride know it is really a complicated matter.
It has to do with power and empowerment. Being able to do
things you might have once considered out of reach or
ability.
I have considered this as I shoveled manure, filled water
barrels in the cold rain, waited for the
vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery, changed a tire on a
horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cooled a
gelding out before getting down to the business of drinking
a cold beer after a long ride.
The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for
dedication.? At least I call it dedication. Both my
ex-husbands called it 'the sickness'. It's a sickness I've
had since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and
dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the
women I ride with understand the meaning of 'the sickness'.
It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and, in
some ways, who we are as women and human beings. I ride.
I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some
trail head somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog and
I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter
through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My
shoulders relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I
pull my ball cap down and let the real world fade into the
tracks my horse leaves in the dust.
Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like
fairies. My gelding flicks his ears and moves down the
trail. I can smell his sweat and it is perfume to my
senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement
of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the
leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.
I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I
do because I ride . Climb granite slabs, wade into a
freezing lake, race a friend through the manzanita all the
while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other days
just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real
accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how
much my seat bones or any of the numerous horse related
injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.
The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden
out to find lakes that remain, for the most part, unseen.
Caves, dark and cold beside rivers full and rolling are the
scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite Stairway at Echo
Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl
add to the empowerment and joy in my heart.
I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider
how competent they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch.
We haul 40ft rigs, we back into tight spaces without
clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend the horses. We cook
and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the
horse. We respect each other and those we encounter on the
trail. We know that if you are out there riding, you also
shovel, fill, wait and doctor. Your hands are a little
rough and you travel with out makeup or hair gel. You do
without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you
were a small girl, you bounced a model horse while you
dreamed of riding a real one.
"My treasures do not chink or glitter, They gleam in the
sun and neigh in the night"
"The path to your horse's heart lies through your own."
"There are only two emotions that belong on the saddle; One
is a sense of humor, and the other is patience."
"The Will of God will never take you to where the Grace of
God cannot protect you..."
Wed Apr 29, 2009 9:04 pm
