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You know, yesterday after the horseback riding lesson, I was sore, and I knew in the next couple of days I'd be more sore. But I got home, and after an hour or two, I felt fine, and sort of shrugged it off.
Oh. My. God.
My left shoulder loathes me (and honestly, with the way it feels I'm realizing I probably couldn't have even gotten on to the damn horse had I not been working out the last few weeks). My right thigh isn't too happy (but I pulled it getting up on the horse the first time, so I knew that was going to be bad). And really, everything just bloody hurts to the point of there being no point in doing an inventory of it. And I know it will be worse tomorrow.
I have no idea why I am doing this, beyond a temporary burst of insanity. I know it's difficult, that I think it's funny, and that it's giving me a vague sense of accomplishment. I know I also like what I feel like sitting up there, and that I wouldn't if the posture wasn't natural to me. I look good on the stupid horse, and that matters (I am the vainest tomboy you will ever meet, especially considering that I nearly never wear makeup).
Meanwhile, I live in horror that I may have to make the damn horse trot next time, like all by myself. You have to understand, I don't know how to ride a bike, or drive a car or anything, and in general, have a horror of things that go fast. I'll only rollerblade in a rink, and it still bloody terrifies me. Poor Emily. I told her to start and stop a lot.
Also, hey, is that business about getting right back on the horse after you fall off -- well... like does that mean I _am_ going to fall off the horse eventually? I was lying awake about that last night. *shudder*
Speaking of vanity -- I bought stretch jeans and ugly boots at K-Mart for under $40 total, and not only do both seem to be working out perfectly (although if I keep up with this, I'll get paddock boots, because the heavily treaded sole on my crappy boots do hook in the stirupps in a way I'm not liking at times), everyone keeps telling me how good they look. I don't wear jeans. I wind up with a pair like every five years or so for whatever reason, but I don't wear jeans. Well these babies make my ass look like it hasn't since I was twenty-two. So let me tell you, all things are possible. K-Mart!
Edited to add: Okay, sitting still isn't too bad. Moving around -- not too bad. The act of sitting down? Sweet Jesus. I know exactly what I did to deserve this. Ow.
Oh. My. God.
My left shoulder loathes me (and honestly, with the way it feels I'm realizing I probably couldn't have even gotten on to the damn horse had I not been working out the last few weeks). My right thigh isn't too happy (but I pulled it getting up on the horse the first time, so I knew that was going to be bad). And really, everything just bloody hurts to the point of there being no point in doing an inventory of it. And I know it will be worse tomorrow.
I have no idea why I am doing this, beyond a temporary burst of insanity. I know it's difficult, that I think it's funny, and that it's giving me a vague sense of accomplishment. I know I also like what I feel like sitting up there, and that I wouldn't if the posture wasn't natural to me. I look good on the stupid horse, and that matters (I am the vainest tomboy you will ever meet, especially considering that I nearly never wear makeup).
Meanwhile, I live in horror that I may have to make the damn horse trot next time, like all by myself. You have to understand, I don't know how to ride a bike, or drive a car or anything, and in general, have a horror of things that go fast. I'll only rollerblade in a rink, and it still bloody terrifies me. Poor Emily. I told her to start and stop a lot.
Also, hey, is that business about getting right back on the horse after you fall off -- well... like does that mean I _am_ going to fall off the horse eventually? I was lying awake about that last night. *shudder*
Speaking of vanity -- I bought stretch jeans and ugly boots at K-Mart for under $40 total, and not only do both seem to be working out perfectly (although if I keep up with this, I'll get paddock boots, because the heavily treaded sole on my crappy boots do hook in the stirupps in a way I'm not liking at times), everyone keeps telling me how good they look. I don't wear jeans. I wind up with a pair like every five years or so for whatever reason, but I don't wear jeans. Well these babies make my ass look like it hasn't since I was twenty-two. So let me tell you, all things are possible. K-Mart!
Edited to add: Okay, sitting still isn't too bad. Moving around -- not too bad. The act of sitting down? Sweet Jesus. I know exactly what I did to deserve this. Ow.
