joflasher | Put Your Foot in the Stirrup

Specifically, putting my foot in the stirrup of the nearly 5 year old, 17.2+ hand oldenburg/hanoverian* mare that cracked my lower spine in three spots. To say it's been a challenge would be an understatement.

I've never really been afraid to ride before. Not after being bucked off. Not after being kicked in the head. Not after my sister's demon pony threw me into a tree and then deliberately stepped on me, cracking 2 ribs. Not even when my horse fell out from under me and shatter my pelvis the summer after I turned 16. I kept that mare until she died. Those injuries were just that - physical injuries that I walked away from, healed up, and got back on. None of them were the horse's fault and none of them really scared me.

Riding horses is dangerous. There's no sugar coating that. You're on the back of a 1000+ lb prey animal whose lizard brain is insisting that there's a large predator right above it's spine. You get on knowing that and you don't do it unless you love it.

And I love it. When you're doing it right, when the horse trusts you more than his own instincts, more than his own fears, it's like flying. It's like magic. You think it and this huge, glorious animal does it, faster and better than anything you could manage on your two feeble human legs. I got my first pony right around the time I learned to walk and I've been hooked ever since. And the Pogo Pony, Atisa, is magic. She will walk through fire** for me or Josh. She may exit stage left but you're Herd and she's taking you with her.*** I've had Atisa since she was 3 and I started training her when she was a gangly yearling. She's my pony, heart & soul and if I ask it of her, she will give it. I try to be worthy of that trust.

But Bean, though, Bean shook my confidence. Not only did I come off but I came off BADLY. I pushed her beyond her baby brain ability to cope and when she blew, she blew HUGE. She's easily the biggest and most athletic horse I've ever worked with and while she's a sweet heart on the ground, she lacks confidence under saddle. She doesn't believe you when you say "it's okay". So when I ignored all the warning signs that she was losing her grip, I set us up for the failure that happened. Yeah, the mower kicked up a rock against the wall of the indoor riding arena, spooking even the older horses but I should have been off her back a good ten minutes before that. And once that CRACK happened, we were done. Full on bronc bucking until I was in the dirt.

Months later, I was barely out of crutches and toodling around on Atisa again. The thought of getting on Bean gave me panic attacks and I was too stiff and sore to even consider it. Instead, I put my friend H on her. H has a seat of solid velcro and is fairly fearless. I toodled around and watched someone else ride my horse for the first time ever. It got to me. Atisa, by this point, was retired due to lung problems and whether she was ridable from one day to the next was a toss up. I was less than gracious, watching someone else school my horse.

H, being a horsewoman, understood and got me the ride on a retired I1 schoolmaster who'd been terrorizing his young rider. The Cadillac, as we called him, had all the bells and whistled but also had a "you gonna make me?" attitude.

Sure, he could do 1 tempis all day long but if you tilted forward even a smidge, he'd throw his head up and clock you in the face. I'm rather proud that he only bloodied my nose once. Let your fingers open and he'd slam down through his bits (you had to ride him in a double, he'd own your ass in a snaffle) and bolt until you ran him into the wall. Some days, if he could feel tension in your hips or knees, he'd refuse to budge and all the kicking and growling did fuck all. Other days, he'd decide my flopping out of shape legs meant flying changes All The Time.

In short, he was opinionated and arrogant and I loved him. He bolted and bucked and bulked but never once did he scare me. He made me a better rider faster than any instructor I've ever had because if I didn't ride to his standards, he made me pay for it. But despite all his naughty behavior, he was safe. He wasn't out to get me off or hurt me, he was just out to make a point. And once the curmudgeon started whickering and coming trotting over to the gate, I knew we had it made. I hated to see him move on to his next student but I will always be grateful to his owner for letting me have him.

After he left, I started riding Bean again. It wasn't fun. I made a hard rule that I wasn't allowed to castigate myself. If I got on and off of my own free will, it was a successful ride. I threw a party for five minutes of walking. I danced the first time we trotted a quarter circle. It still wasn't fun.

Then she got hurt. We're not sure how but she managed to significantly pull a ligament in her back that holds a vertebrae in place. On the X-ray, the entire vertebrae was tilted forward, almost touching the one in front of it. We found this after I hopped on one day and stepped hard into the right stirrup to even up the saddle and she lit up like someone hit her with a cattle prod. I had to run her into a wall to get her stopped and she stood there shaking and panting, completely panicked. When I went to hop off, she lit again. I got the vet out, he did xrays and and we found the fucked up vertebrae.

Insert 4+ months of pony physical therapy.

Now we're back to a few minutes under saddle again. Ten minutes walking became 15 became 20. Now we're back to 10 minutes walking with 5 minutes trotting.

And I'm terrified. Even with tranquilizers****, I'm terrified. Every ride is a mental battle to get my leg over that horse's back. Last Thursday, I made it 5 minutes before a rambunctious pair came in & I bailed. Bean wasn't even being bad but I could feel myself getting tense and that red mare had blown up every day that week and I knew it was going to end in a mess.

I cried the whole way home. I called my mom and cried to her. When did I become a chicken sh*t?

So yesterday & today, I had H lunge me. Just walk me around like a pony ride, walk trot. As we went along, she moved further away but always had control via the lunge line. And for the first time in over a year, I got off happy. Not relieved to be on the ground, safe, but happy and exhilarated. So that's what we're going to do. I'm going to have training wheels on this horse until I feel secure and then I'm going to have H stand in the middle pretending to be training wheels and then ... well, then we'll see.

But my foot is back in the stirrup.

* - Bean is a registered oldenburg. Both her parents were registered hanoverians. No, I don't understand how european registries work either.

** - Where "fire" here is yellow jackets or barbed wire. Seriously, she is the best pony ever.

*** - Atisa got her nickname because she can teleport like a jackrabbit when she's up. Poing Poing Poing. But unlike most horses, Atisa doesn't drop a shoulder and bolt out from underneath you. No, she picks her shoulders up and throws herself and you away from the danger. So while it looks like she's crazy reactive and bouncing all over the place, she's got you and all you have to do is go along for the ride.

**** - Bean cannot buck with weight on her back. Worst thing she could do. Put us back at square 1 bad So while we burn off that young horse energy, she's getting hit with tranqs. Unfortunately, she has both the size & constitution of a moose and can blow through the max dosage in about 30 minutes.