Back in the Saddle Again

Of all the bright ideas I've had lately, few have been as rewarding as the one I had yesterday.

Friday night was moving right along...my boyfriend and I were about two glasses into a bottle of red wine and I was happy to be back from my long trip to Florida. Twenty-two hours of driving does something to a girl, and my butt was glad to be out of the driver's seat and onto the couch. So after a great dinner at my favorite pseudo-Italian eatery we began the party in earnest.

Mike and I canoodling rather nicely when the phone rang, and against my better judgment and the protests of my warm and cuddly significant other, I answered its persistent buzzing. The caller...none other than my very good friend Leslie brayed savagely in my ear, "Step away from the man!" Leslie is trying to keep both me and my SO from spending every waking moment tangled up in each other. Some would say she's doing a great job. If you ask me sometimes it can be a great BIG pain in the keester!

"Hey," says she... "wanna go horseback riding?"

What you should know before I go further is that I became addicted to all things horsey about 5 years ago. I worked for a doctor in south Florida, home-schooling her three kids. This doctor was a great equestrian and competed in hunter jumping (horsey talk for jumping over really tall fences). It started innocently enough. "Just move the horses from this paddock to that one please." or "If you wouldn't mind helping the kids tack up." or "Could you just ride the roan...he hasn't had enough exercise this week." Before I knew it, I was the school teacher and the groom.

So back to our story...

I am a pretty experienced rider. Been on quite a few horses in my short equestrian career. So when Leslie and her sister asked, "You wanna ride the psycho horse?" I was up for the challenge, or so I thought. I watched a young girl put said horse, Dolly by name, (though there's nothing remotely doll-like about the beast) through its paces and thought that perhaps Leslie was exaggerating. I should have remembered that Leslie isn't really prone to exaggeration. It should have been more evident during the tumultuous start we had. Dolly circled around and around, throwing her head and yanking on the bit. Nothing subtle about our girl Dolly. She made it quite clear that she was displeased with the Puerto Rican shape of the hiney in the saddle, and that she preferred the Anglo hiney she was accustomed to.

Having been asked several times if I was experienced, I wanted to make sure that I didn't show how unsure I was about this lunatic animal. You see, for the most part horses can become used to the people who ride them everyday but after a few minutes with someone new in the saddle they usually settle down. Also, I thought that since she had already been ridden to the point of being sweaty and seemingly tired, she wouldn't object for too long. Boy was I wrong.

I'll spare you the logistics of what it took to get 15 people tacked and ready to ride except that it took about a twenty minute ride to meet up with the other half of our posse who were patiently waiting at a place heretofore referred to only as "Grimms". We rode from one "barn" to a place that for the purposes of this blog I'll say reminded me very much of a modern-day Ponderosa. These people had the setup of life! For a horsey chick like me it was bordering the orgasmic! A beautiful ranch-style house that was 3000 square feet if it was an inch, and a matching barn with about 10 stables and all the gadgets that you could want.

You should know that our good friend Spiffy was along for the merriment and made a valiant effort and kept his "fat ass" (please see his blog dated 12/29/06) in the saddle.

There we were, eagerly waiting for the leader of our little band of riders to choose our trail when Spiffy announces that the family jewels can't take another second of abuse. We tried to convince him that a change of saddles would help, but Spiffy is a lot smarter than he looks and wasn't taking the bait. So he untacked and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the flat bed of a trailer that was parked next to a big field. We left Spiffy behind and took off on our adventure.

As previously mentioned our band included about 15 I think...it's all a blur really. What I can say is that we all proceeded in some semblance of order down a beautiful wooded trail. I was excited enough that my heart was thumping double time in my chest. I could feel Dolly starting to get a little skittish under me but I knew she'd ridden this trail dozens of times and she knew it a lot better than I did.

We rounded a bend with big pine trees that opened to a small clearing and a nice straightaway. Dolly knew the drill like I said and proceeded from a lively trot to a full gallop. Think Porsche going 0-60 in about 5.2...

On a really good day I weigh about 145lbs. I look a lot skinnier than I am, and for that I am truly grateful. With that said, it pays to remember that the law of gravity cares little for what you look like. Dolly was going full tilt down the straightaway with nary a thought for the weight or age of the Puerto Rican hiney aforementioned.

It happened, at least to me, in very slow motion. Like the frame by frame slow mo used in instant replays during a football game. My left foot came loose of the stirrup just as Dolly started to realize there was a two-ton horsey butt coming up on us really fast. Dolly began to put on the breaks. I came up out of the saddle and since there was no stirrup on my left foot began to go over the left side. I willed my right foot out of the other stirrup quick (nothing worse than being attached by one ankle to a "psycho" horse!!) and turned my back toward the ground. The fall was eternal. Several minutes seemed to pass as I braced myself for impact. My mind was screaming and all I could hear was, "this is REALLY going to hurt!!!"

Today I wish that Dolly had been just a couple of hands taller...then I would have had ample time to execute my double pike and land precisely as I'd intended...on my back. However, the truth of the matter is that Dolly is probably just short enough to deprive me of a mere two additional seconds I required to position my elderly body for the least damaging fall. So...guess where I landed...?? Square on my tailbone. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I landed on one of the few bones of the body, that when broken cannot be set in a cast.

It hurt so bad I cried. Literally. But after a few minutes of self-pity, I climbed right back on that "biatch" and rode her all the way back to where we'd started. There was Spiffy, lying on his back with his cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. He sat up and said, "Everything okay?" So I told him the story as I rode over to him, dismounted and hobbled over to where he was to lean for a moment.

To Spiffy's credit he only asked my twice how many different ways there were to say stupid in Spanish. He told me I was crazy as we tacked up a new mount for me and said that I should sit this one out. Blue, my new trusty steed, was much more subdued and sweeter than Dolly could ever be.

Today I'm walking around, albeit slowly. My butt feels like it is on fire and sizzling with electric currents. But it could be much worse.

I plan on riding again next weekend but as far as my butt is concerned, Dolly is a serious candidate for the nearest glue factory.