I always feel a bit apprehensive before each lesson.
I used to be the same before each bike ride, ski lift or descent
and each underwater adventure.
Tom used to say that it was good and it made you a safer diver/rider
because you appreciated the risks and the skills needed.
I arrived a bit early intending to do a couple of stretches,
but was surprised to find the horse saddled and
the instructor ready to start the lesson.
I always expect that first abductor stretch as I throw
my right leg over the back of the horse and sit down into the saddle
to get easier (read less painful); I'm always surprised when it is not.
The lesson started well;
I found myself concentrating less on my foot and leg position
and not even thinking about my steering and sitting position.
I think all this is good progress.
After a warm-up walk round the training area,
I moved on to a trot and for the next 40 minutes,
trotted fast and slow round and round,
improving little things as I went.
It was nearly the end of the lesson; I was asked if I wanted to try a canter.
Ok I'll give it a try.
The instructor explained that I was to take the horse to the bottom right corner
and give him his head and make a kiss sound and he would go.
It would be a longer, smoother stride than the trot and some say more comfortable.
I lined the horse up dropped the reins a bit and kicked him on.
"Aghhhhhhhh! STOP HIM IT'S TOO FAST!!!"
I squealed and hung on to the saddle.
"You're in control of the horse, you stop him,
you know how," the instructor quietly said.
The horse stopped of its own accord, I think,
or maybe the instructor just told it to stop.
"That's ok," he said. "I think the difference
in the movement was a bit of a surprise."
Well, that was right, but the good thing was he'd stayed very calm
and never changed his demeanor at all, which was just as well -
me squealing like a banshee was quite enough for the poor horse to cope with.
I walked round the ring and said I'd like to try it again.
"That's fine," the instructor said.
"Walk him back to the start point.
Now remember, the reins stop the horse; if you hold onto the saddle,
you are not in control of anything."
I got to the start point and whoosh off he went again;
two horse lengths and I pulled him up. "That is sooo fast," I said.
"No, it's not as fast as the fast trot you have been doing;
it's just a different movement."
"Can I try it again?" Back to the start point; breathe in, sit up straight.
Whoosh 12 feet . . . 24 feet . . . nearly 36 feet. Yeeha!! I did it.
And on that high point the lesson was over.
Probably just as well because I do not think I could canter, steer,
sit up straight, keep my heels down, legs back and breathe, all at the same time.
I walked to the centre, stopped the horse and managed to dismount
with a little more aplomb than previous lessons
which made up for me squealing like a ten-year-old.
I did my John Wayne walk back to my car and started to drive home.
My legs had worked so hard they were shaking.
Last time they felt like that I'd just run a 1/2 marathon.
I now wished I'd bought the automatic,
especially every time I had to change gear which was quite often
on the little back roads round my way.
A cup of tea and chocolate and I'm ready to do it all again on Friday.
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