Don't let fear get in the way
I had a pretty good riding lesson today. I feel as though I'm finally getting my timing down on the jumps and managed to keep pretty darn straight as I did so. It was feeling good. And then on the last jump, my horse was rushing a bit, so I was trying what my trainer said to do and sit back in the saddle a bit to help slow her down. Just as I was sitting back, she decided to reach and go for the jump and I lost my seat. It was one of those moments where you know you are coming off and there is nothing you can do about it. I saw the pole across the jump coming at me and I knew I was going to run right into it. My hip made contact, knocked it off the standard, and I hit the dust. In my head, it was an epic fall. In reality, P., who was in the lesson with me, said it was like someone coming off a horse. Children can be so brutally honest. I'm going to stick with epic in my head, though.
My reaction when I hit the ground and stopped moving was to laugh. I knew I was fine, aside from what is going to be a pretty darn impressive bruise on my hip. Someone else retrieved the horse, who had decided the lesson was done and took herself back to the grass outside the stable. I got back on, did some walking and trotting, and then rode her back down the hill to the stable.
But let's go back to that laughing. Why was that my reaction? It wasn't shock, I assure you. It was probably more like relief. Relief that a fear in the back of my head came true and I survived it. This was not my first fall, but it was my first fall since I started riding again as an (ahem) older adult. For the past several years, in the back of my head, there has always been the fear of falling. I love riding horses enough that I forced myself to kind of ignore the needling fear n the back of my head. This wasn't helped by the fact that my skills were rusty and my muscles non-existent. As I've been able to ride over the past several months I've grown stronger and more secure in my abilities, but there is always the conscious decision to ignore the slightly gnawing fear that lurked in the back of my mind. The laughing was both the relief that I didn't break anything and that I had faced a significant fear and survived. It wasn't as bad as I had built it up in my head, which is true about so many things.
I have a feeling that getting out of bed in the morning will be not so pleasant, though.
This whole thing has me thinking. It's kind of like life in general, isn't it. How often do we not do things because we are afraid of a bad thing that might happen? If I had let my fear of falling get in the way of riding, I would be missing out on something that brings me great joy and satisfaction. It is an awesome feeling when you jump a course (even if it is small) and you get it basically right. But along with that joy and satisfaction is always the possible price that you will get hurt. Knowing I conquered something that is so challenging that it comes with waivers and helmets adds to the end result.
We miss out on so much when we let fear get in our way. Sure there might be bumps and bruises (and teethmarks and broken walls and furniture) along the way. Those things do not mean that what we have chosen to do is wrong or bad, just that it is a challenging thing that will try us to our limit and sometimes beyond. As we persevere, learn the best way to navigate that challenging thing, allow ourselves to be changed, we reap the benefits: the joy and satisfaction of having survived. And when you realize you have done that, you break out in laughter.
My reaction when I hit the ground and stopped moving was to laugh. I knew I was fine, aside from what is going to be a pretty darn impressive bruise on my hip. Someone else retrieved the horse, who had decided the lesson was done and took herself back to the grass outside the stable. I got back on, did some walking and trotting, and then rode her back down the hill to the stable.
But let's go back to that laughing. Why was that my reaction? It wasn't shock, I assure you. It was probably more like relief. Relief that a fear in the back of my head came true and I survived it. This was not my first fall, but it was my first fall since I started riding again as an (ahem) older adult. For the past several years, in the back of my head, there has always been the fear of falling. I love riding horses enough that I forced myself to kind of ignore the needling fear n the back of my head. This wasn't helped by the fact that my skills were rusty and my muscles non-existent. As I've been able to ride over the past several months I've grown stronger and more secure in my abilities, but there is always the conscious decision to ignore the slightly gnawing fear that lurked in the back of my mind. The laughing was both the relief that I didn't break anything and that I had faced a significant fear and survived. It wasn't as bad as I had built it up in my head, which is true about so many things.
I have a feeling that getting out of bed in the morning will be not so pleasant, though.
This whole thing has me thinking. It's kind of like life in general, isn't it. How often do we not do things because we are afraid of a bad thing that might happen? If I had let my fear of falling get in the way of riding, I would be missing out on something that brings me great joy and satisfaction. It is an awesome feeling when you jump a course (even if it is small) and you get it basically right. But along with that joy and satisfaction is always the possible price that you will get hurt. Knowing I conquered something that is so challenging that it comes with waivers and helmets adds to the end result.
We miss out on so much when we let fear get in our way. Sure there might be bumps and bruises (and teethmarks and broken walls and furniture) along the way. Those things do not mean that what we have chosen to do is wrong or bad, just that it is a challenging thing that will try us to our limit and sometimes beyond. As we persevere, learn the best way to navigate that challenging thing, allow ourselves to be changed, we reap the benefits: the joy and satisfaction of having survived. And when you realize you have done that, you break out in laughter.
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