Last Friday night, I got a group text from my trainer asking the Saturday lesson group if we would be riding the next day, despite the horrible-bitter-worst-ever cold (my words, not hers). After some grumbling (about cold, not ponies), it was decided we would breakfast at 10, then head to the barn. Any day that starts with a waffle is good in my book. The conversation then continued with the idea of riding in the snow. Immediately my mind is filled with thoughts of Instagram images like this…
Glamorous gallops through soft snow while I elegantly guide my majestic Saddlebred among snow covered evergreens…
I should have figured this out when the thermostat in the car read 7 degrees. Or maybe when it took me 10 minutes to pick my horse’s ice packed feet. But onward we went, because I was there for the Instagram, damnit.
We did have a perfectly nice jaunt around the outdoor waiting for the rest of the group, then the decision was made to head out onto the track and from there, one of the fields. In the process of heading out, Doc and I ended up at the back of the group.
And that’s where we take a sharp turn from my storybook-filled head.
Immediately my horse is informing me that he does not want to be at the back, THANKSLADY LET ME GO I AM SADDLEBRED HEAR ME ROAR. I acquiesce and we catch up to the group, ending up in the middle. Then the brave members decide to go faster. And I’m like, guys, what is so wrong with a nice very small sitting trot here really? but trot we do. Until Doc decides I’m stupid and he wants to GOFASTER. I turn to my trainer and very calmly and matter of factly state that I am now nervous and what would she like me to do. Okay, good, ride continues, we just happen to be trotting next to everyone else’s walk. Not running away though, so there’s that. Just snot running out of my nose and watering eyes and BY THE WAY it hurts to breathe WHY DID I LEAVE SOUTH CAROLINA.
I’m starting to feel braver (or more likely, my common sense is just numb from the cold at this point) so off to the field we go. Where Doc decides he’s had enough of my former-western-pleasure-rider brain and he wants none of this. This culminates in a fun sort of dolphin-leap toddler tantrum.
The good news is my new saddle is very secure.
And when it was over? I looked at trainer C and said, “I’m done.”
Back to the barn we went. Well, arena.
Where we posed for photos to prove this did, in fact, happen. Where I realized my face was now so numb I could have had dental work done. Where J had so many layers on, she literally fell off her horse trying to get off.
It was a majikal experience.
That I really, really, really don’t need to repeat again.
How many days until summer?