Determination

         I began my riding day as any other. I brushed my horse with quick strokes and threw the saddle upon his back in one fluid movement. After I finished tightening the girth I went to retrieve the bridle from a peg and hung it on my arm. With careful fingers I removed the muzzle which had been guarding me from his vicious biting habit. Once it was removed from his mouth he took a bite at me, but, he was too slow and he caught the bit instead of my skin.

         I smiled triumphantly at him as he eyed me and ground his teeth against the bit. I adjusted the bridle once it was on his head and tightened the cavason considerably, but still not too tight that I could not place two fingers in-between it and his jaw.

         No sooner was I finished tacking up the instructor called for us to enter the ring. One by one, the riders led their horses into the small arena and took their spots in the middle for mounting. I followed suit and stopped my horse to check the girth, which refused to budge a hole higher. I called one of the barn crew over who had just finished helping another rider mount. She ran to where I stood and I stepped aside as I watched her pull upwards on the girth and brought it up to the final hole. She placed a finger in-between the girth and, finding that it was snug, left me alone to mount.

         I stretched my leg and jumped several times in place before I gave one strong push from my right leg and flew into the saddle. I situated myself within the saddle and pushed my horse forward to take our place on the rail. The lesson continued easily and I did all which was called out with shoulders back, heels down, and head up.

"Walk your horses!"

         I sat down deeply within the saddle and relaxed as I pulled back for the walk. I knew what was coming up next: the canter. But something felt wrong ... my saddle occasionally felt like it was drifting from side to side and I could feel there was something that was going to happen. I had occasionally felt a saddle drift but my inital reaction it was to ignore any questions. Before I could think of what might be wrong the command to canter was called out by the instructor and I obeyed.

"Canter!"

         I commanded the horse as I gave him my outside leg and rein. He bounded forward with a burst of speed that sent me hurdling backwards into the cantle. Then I felt it... my saddle... it was slipping to the right side. Oh no, what was I going to do? I tried desperately to grab onto the mane and pull myself back up into the saddle but it was practically under his belly. I fell sideways and my body slammed into the wall. For a moment my foot was caught in the stirrup. Pain shot through my ankle and then my foot jerked loose.

         My gaping mouth filled with the arena's sand, and coated my clothing. I laid there for several moments, surrounded by the darkness of my sealed eyes and my refusal to get up. But, this refusal soon subsided into determination and I eased myself off of the ground and to a sitting position. My body ached and my ankle hurt terribly, throbbing with sharp pain that was unbearable.

         I finally stood up on my own and ignored the pains which shot throughout my body. I brushed off the dirt from my clothes and looked for the horse which I was riding. A fellow rider within the class had his reins and the horse looked to have no afterthoughts of my fall. I could faintly hear the instructor calling my name and asking me if I was alright.

         I nodded my head to her and told her that I needed to clean up. Tears had escaped my eyelashes from the pain of my sprained ankle and I felt embarrassed that I would cry. I quickly made my way up the steps to the clubroom and ignored the concerned looks and words of the on-looking parents who had watched me fall.

         Inside of the dimly lit bathroom I felt much calmer and I felt my anger at falling off subside. I dampened a towel and wiped the sand from my face and cleaned up as best as I could. With the last smudge of dirt washed from my face I took a deep breath and mentally readied myself to ride again.

         I limped from the bathroom and ignored anyone who talked to me. I was determined to get on my horse and I didn't want to stop to talk. I took one step at a time down the stairs and my ankle sank into the deep ground and it screamed out in protest. But, I kept moving forward. I wasn't going to allow this horse to have the last laugh, or to leave me defeated and hurt.

         Finally, I stood before the horse and thanked the rider for holding him for me. I grabbed the reins with my one hand and placed my uninjured foot into the stirrup. I mustered up my remaining strength and hoisted myself into the air and on the saddle again. The horse jumped forward when he felt that I was in the saddle and I sharply pulled back on the reins. I painstakingly maneuvered my injured ankle into the stirrup and gazed down as it laid limp.

         I remembered that the saddle had fallen sideways because it was loose, and I threw my leg forward and checked it again. With a sigh of relief I found that it was much tighter and this time I wouldn't have to suffer another fall because of a loose girth.

         I rode as best as I could for the rest of the lesson and even posted with my sprained ankle. I refused to be treated special or to stand in the middle of the ring when the other riders were trotting. And so, this attitude was burnt even more into my riding and especially when I fell. I would get up on the horse with the most painful of injuries, because I knew if I didn't, that it would be that much harder to ride. I would never allow myself to give up my first love in life because of a fear of being hurt. I love horses too much to hold grudges, I love them too much to give up and not ride after an injury.