Giddy Up

Saturday, Dylan and I rode horses. He has been learning to ride every weekend out at a colleague's ranch and this time, I agreed to saddle up with them. It's been years since I've ridden but I figured that it would all come back to me. Like riding a bike, I thought.

I was wrong.

The first issue was getting the saddle on the horse. They weigh a bloody ton. After three attempts, I finally got the saddle up high enough to sling it over my horse's back. I don't think he was terribly amused because he kept stomping his feet and snorting, which strangely enough, reminded me of my ex husband.

Then, there were all of the straps, the bridle and the reins. I struggled to get everything right and my first attempt at mounting the horse proved that I hadn't. My left stirrup flew off and I looked like a gymnast with my right leg over my head and my left hurtling towards the ground. It could have been very, very bad but my horse startled, moved forward and I was able to land with BOTH feet.

Laura came over and fixed everything and our ride began. My horse was the one reserved for the inexperienced and the handicapped. He was docile, compliant and knew his place in the pecking order. If he were any more laid back, he would have been smoking a joint and listening to Dark Side of the Moon. Several times in the first half hour, he dropped his head to nibble on the few remaining pieces of green grass. Then he stopped to take care of his bodily functions. To get him to trot with the other horses, I had to dig my heels in several times, while yelling cowboy things like, "HA!", "LET'S GO!" and the Chinese version, "HIE!" None of it worked. He would pick up the pace for two seconds, decide it wasn't worth the hassle and then slow to a mosey.

As luck would have it, Laura's son was having a difficult time with his horse, "Jackie Legs". Legs was spirited and unpredictable so I offered to trade rides. I needed a challenge. And that turned out to be one of those "What the hell was I thinking" moments.

Legs was a challenge.

Understatement.

This horse heard phantom sounds of a thousand ghost hooves. We could be walking and all of the sudden, I'd feel him tense and he'd start to trot. Then, out of nowhere, he'd bolt into a full on run. Shadows in the trees spooked him. One time, I was passing a water bottle to Dylan and it must have been in the horse's peripheral vision because he chose that moment to break into a run...with no warning! I stayed in the saddle, but just barely. Most of the ride was spent trotting which is like someone taking their fist and repeatedly punching your ass until it is bruised to the point where you are unable to sit down on a toilet without flinching. Don't even get me started on my girls. Never in my life had I wished for a uni-boob until that moment. I would have welcomed them being bound up like a pre-operative transsexual.

Yesterday, I woke up sore, but manageable. Today is a whole different chapter in the book of OH MY GOD I'M DYING! I am bruised on the inside of my thighs right down to the knees where there happens to be a new, lovely cluster of burst capillaries. My lats are so sore that I am unable to lift my arms above my head. My obliques are positively screaming. I never knew how often one uses abdominal muscles in the course of a day until this morning when merely sitting upright in bed made my eyes water. The worst part of this is my bum. I think it may be broken.

I had been told that horseback riding could help with the weight loss effort and that actually proved to be true. I got on the scale this morning to find myself two pounds lighter. Yeah. Woo hoo. Whatever. I think a colonic might have accomplished the same thing and at least I could have been lying down.