With Age Comes Wisdom, Aches And Pains

Growing up horse crazy instilled a sense of bravery I’m not sure I would have had, should I have chosen a different pastime.

I was the typical barn rat kid, always hungry for more time in the saddle. If a horse was acting up or had dumped their rider schooling at the horse show, it was my hand that was first in the air to get on it next.

My first horse was an ornery old pony named Roy. He liked to buck at the canter and had thrown me into a pasture fence once or twice. But golly, was I determined to always get back on.

That ornery pony gave me the confidence to jump bigger, gallop faster, and as my education grew, ride younger and greener horses. I hit the dirt a few good times over the years, but always bounced right back up, luckily, without any major wear or tear.

Those bold younger years aren’t all that long behind me. But now that I am firmly in the adult amateur chapter of my riding career, I find myself second guessing any wild or overly ambitious riding maneuvers.

I’ll still ride green horses – the lazy ones. I’m still excited to jump a 3-foot fence, but the ambitions of going around a course much higher than that is more anxiety inducing than it is exciting. Fine tuning flatwork used to be such a bore when I was younger. Now I am obsessed with it, and the never-ending knowledge there is to unlock there.

There’s a lot more to appreciate in a “more whoa than go” mount that I didn’t give enough credit when I was younger.

Occasionally my knee will throb after a long horse show weekend, from years of riding and one rough fall many years ago. My lower back aches on the regular. Riding all summer long in the intense heat sounds miserable, and I don’t know how I (and the horses) did it all those years growing up. I don’t yearn to jump every ride anymore, either.

I’m pretty sure if my younger self saw me these days, she’d be disappointed in the much more casual style of my riding. Or the fact that I sometimes consider wearing a protective vest for jumping, at home or away. She’d be flabbergasted that we didn’t make it to bigger horse shows, win at more circuits, and the fact that I can’t fit a leg in those Tailored Sportsmans from high school anymore.

But with age comes wisdom, and a new outlook. The same passion for the horse is still in me, and it burns with the same intensity. Instead of worrying about when a horse was lame or hurt and asking for help, I can discern what to do next independently. I am better at preparing mentally and physically for the demand of horse shows, and those results often speak for themselves in my performance.

Being brave, and saying yes to every opportunity – even if it was scary – when I was young made me a better rider. But now I’m a better horseman, for having the insight and the preservation of knowing how to do right for my horse and myself.