|Ready to ride Jenny along the Bay of Fundy.|
we went on a little holiday.
it involved horses.
It was a long, slow trail ride on horses who only know long, slow trail rides but it was something we hadn't done before as a couple so this was an early 10th anniversary celebration.
As we wandered through the marsh that stretches out below the stables towards the bay (marshland that had my former farmer husband exclaiming about the wonderful pasture for cattle and horses), I realized why people love to gallop.
"I feel excited that I could gallop across this vast plain but also terrified that I could gallop across this vast plain," I said to our guide, Zac. "Does that make sense?"
Apparently, it didn't. But I meant that I could feel the draw to want to ride like that, to be free and fast and unfettered, but since I have no idea what I'm doing, the thought of the horse galloping across the field terrified me. But I could feel the desire to kick my heels and let loose...
Halfway through our meandering ride, I half-turned in my saddle to tell Dwayne, "Yep, I want to keep doing this. I definitely want to ride."
I wish I could wave a magic wand and be skilled and experienced, like, RIGHT NOW, but I can't. I just have to put up with the strong feelings of envy that arise when I meet a 22 year old trail guide who does barrel racing and hang out with my friend who has been riding for longer than I've been alive.
I'm sure there is a life lesson in this, a lesson I'm still learning that has something to do with letting go of being a perfectionist and needing to enjoy the journey that gets me to the destination and being present in the process of learning, blitherty blitherty blithery, but I also feel like I've been missing out on something for forty years. That makes me impatient to be good at riding quickly so I can make up for lost time. There is a seven year old girl in me who wants to gallop (or does she want to barrel race?)
Twice during our ride, Zac the guide, said, "Want to trot?" so we trotted.
I did not love that.
In fact, trotting is definitely not something I want to do. I'm sure it will be part of my lessons but it was the most uncomfortable experience.
"My feet came right out of the stirrups and I was bouncing all over the saddle," I told Dwayne later. "I thought I was going to bounce right off the horse."
"I know," he said. "I saw you. It was funny."
That explained why Pedro, his horse, kept laughing at me.
|The morning view from our cabin. We've found "our place".|