Becoming Brave
No. 12
Breaking Free
In closing I will tell you a recent story.
It's a story of finding freedom.
I haven't been afraid of riding Bo fast for a long time. But the other day he put me to the test. I asked him to canter, craving the rush of wind in my face.
And that turkey took me for a rodeo ride. He did his best to lose me. Hooves pounding painfully on the ground, jarring me.
And I had a choice.
I saw the rushing ground beneath me.
But grown women keep their chins up.
Leaning forward I gather the reigns in both hands and held on, gritting my teeth. His pounding hooves seemed therapeutic almost, pounding out my anger for me.
And he ran. And ran. And ran.
(In case you are wondering, this is what I get for not riding much this winter. He was feeling the spring air something hot. Good thing I was feeling pretty feisty myself.)
"I'm still here," I growled. He needed to know that his old tricks don't work. That he does not scare me any longer. This control issue needed to be done once and for all. The scare tactics to get me to not gallop so he won't have to work. I was so over it.
Would you like to guess how long we ran like that? Three hours. Yes, nearly three whole hours. I kept waiting for him to tire but he would not relent. Sure, there were a few breaks to trot, but he wanted to go and I finally just let him. I let him run for all it was worth.
But at the end of the day it's a partnership. I don't want to lord over him, I want to trust him. Neither of us won. I was sore stiff and he'd just chosen the workout of a life time.
But after that ride? After his cooling bath and all was said and done, he was sweeter. He treated me with more respect. I didn't take the escape route, I stayed with him. I showed him he could trust me, I showed him I could lead.
A trust bond with a horse... it is a rare and wonderful thing. But truly: I trust my horse. And he trusts me. We take care of each other. And that is how it will always be. He checks on me and protects me, I lead him and care of him. And like we proved in the saddle that day... I'm not going anywhere.
(I should briefly mention the real-life moment of sobbing my eyes out afterwords. "What was I thinking?" I cried to my Mom, "He could have hurt himself! I shouldn't have let him run like that." We live and learn, folks. I'm glad he was just fine.)
In closing I have to say how much I adore my ham. He loves the camera, he loves to pose for the camera, and he loves carrots. I swear he can smell them from a mile away. He loves to roll and get dirty, and he loves his neck to be curried while I'm trying to get him clean. He puts up with my braids and even swings his head toward me when I say, "Kisses?" But if I don't have a cookie he is very put out. He is a gentleman, a good boy, he's my boy. We are perfectly matched. He is an example of God's grace, goodness, favor and that He smiles at little girls who ask Him for Dapple Grey's.
Love, Sarah
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