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isn't it romantic?
Aug. 23rd, 2004 12:14 amOr rather, not really.
This is today's horseback riding report, brought to you by transportation mishaps unlimited.
My F train turned into a G. I then grabbed a shuttle to Prospect Park, and then got on the Q. Then I ran about a mile -- in the wrong direction -- before calling the stables to say I was late and needed help to figure out where I was going.
Let me tell you, if someone ever gives you directions involving going all the way around a lake and passing a Greek peristyle -- well, if you want to know what you've done to deseve this fate -- call me, I can probably tell you. Certianly, I know what I did.
The directions, although ludicrous were reasonably helpful, but I was laughing near hysterically by the point that I was running through some random festival trying to get to my damn riding lesson. I mean there were drums and charred meat and drunk people and it was rather like Pennsic without the costumes.
Eventually, I found my destination by following a trail of horseshit and recognizing the Commerce Bank on the corner.
So I get there, and Fran (my new instructor) says, "so you're afraid of heights, today you're riding the tallest horse." The tallest horse is REALLY tall.
She actually owns Sham (one of four of hers at the stables), and he was an amazing horse. But very very tall and scared the crap out of me. Even once I got comfortable, it definitely felt like too much horse for me, as opposed to Emma who seemed a reasonable fit for me. That said, Sham has an amazing gait, and while we didn't work on posting I was able to briefly do a seated trot with him, but it unnerved me pretty bad, even if in the very corner of my mind for a second I was able to feel the thing that made me want to do this. For all his amazing docility, this is a thoroughbred horse, jumps in competitions, is the size of those huge mounts you see cops on or people in movies on. This was the real fucking deal, and here's me trying to dissasociate from the fact that I am a tiny girl.
I go back on Tuesday, probably to ride Sham again, but only for a half hour until I'm solid enough with the trot that we can go in the outdoor ring. One again I was told my form is really good and my body knows what to do despite the fact my brain is freaking out. Fran too thinks I'll be really good and she's the most senior instructor there and I'll be working with her now. I remain stunned by all this.
Finally told my parents about it and my father was really low key, as I'd forgotten that his oldesst brother and his two children have always ridden and competed.
This is today's horseback riding report, brought to you by transportation mishaps unlimited.
My F train turned into a G. I then grabbed a shuttle to Prospect Park, and then got on the Q. Then I ran about a mile -- in the wrong direction -- before calling the stables to say I was late and needed help to figure out where I was going.
Let me tell you, if someone ever gives you directions involving going all the way around a lake and passing a Greek peristyle -- well, if you want to know what you've done to deseve this fate -- call me, I can probably tell you. Certianly, I know what I did.
The directions, although ludicrous were reasonably helpful, but I was laughing near hysterically by the point that I was running through some random festival trying to get to my damn riding lesson. I mean there were drums and charred meat and drunk people and it was rather like Pennsic without the costumes.
Eventually, I found my destination by following a trail of horseshit and recognizing the Commerce Bank on the corner.
So I get there, and Fran (my new instructor) says, "so you're afraid of heights, today you're riding the tallest horse." The tallest horse is REALLY tall.
She actually owns Sham (one of four of hers at the stables), and he was an amazing horse. But very very tall and scared the crap out of me. Even once I got comfortable, it definitely felt like too much horse for me, as opposed to Emma who seemed a reasonable fit for me. That said, Sham has an amazing gait, and while we didn't work on posting I was able to briefly do a seated trot with him, but it unnerved me pretty bad, even if in the very corner of my mind for a second I was able to feel the thing that made me want to do this. For all his amazing docility, this is a thoroughbred horse, jumps in competitions, is the size of those huge mounts you see cops on or people in movies on. This was the real fucking deal, and here's me trying to dissasociate from the fact that I am a tiny girl.
I go back on Tuesday, probably to ride Sham again, but only for a half hour until I'm solid enough with the trot that we can go in the outdoor ring. One again I was told my form is really good and my body knows what to do despite the fact my brain is freaking out. Fran too thinks I'll be really good and she's the most senior instructor there and I'll be working with her now. I remain stunned by all this.
Finally told my parents about it and my father was really low key, as I'd forgotten that his oldesst brother and his two children have always ridden and competed.
