Today I had my second English riding lesson....if you could call what I did "riding". While I absolutely loved every minute of it there is no doubt in my mind that the English saddle was designed as an instrument of torture (for the out-of-shape rider). I am not going to claim to have stoically bared the pain- I actually called my instructor "evil" at one point... though of course she is anything but. I am actually thrilled with my instructor , she is really nice, very good at directing me through a problem and blessedly encouraging. I like her- even if she did make me ride two point until my legs burned, my knees shook and my expression became set in a look that can only be defined as, *I am going to die, sweet-mother-of-.... holy shit, I'm going to die! "
Did I mention that I loved every minute of it?
Though I have to admit that at times I was really frustrated with not being able to meet the physical demands of riding.... with being unable to will my protesting muscles into the right position. But it will come with time. And because I rode hard and pushed my body to the limit today, I'm one step closer to getting to where I want to be tomorrow. And that feels good... even if my legs are gettin' fit to stage a strike :)
I am going to see my lease horse, Jewel tomorrow and will be sure to get some pictures to post. I might have to walk to the barn like a eighty-year-old bowlegged cowboy but by god I'm getting on a pony again tomorrow if it kills me!
Till then. Cheers! *downs two Advils*