The Day I learned to Trust My Mare

Tomorrow we would be flying to Mexico. A dream my husband and I had been working towards for nearly 18 years. This was to be our first proper vacation as a couple. 

The horses were staying with their Auntie Kim, and I had taken a few extra days off work to prepare for the journey, but most of all, to ride. 
The cold November rains had saturated the darkening days with an added layer of seasonal gloom that had cancelled most of my plans. By the last day I had scheduled to ride, the weather was finally kind enough to let us. 

Kim pulled out the trailer. Punkin watched, intrigued by the idea of an adventure. As I entered the paddock, she pranced past me with her head held high. I offered the halter, and she plunged her head in the soft nylon apparatus. Once it was firmly buckled we headed for the gate. She eagerly jigged through the narrow opening and rushed towards the rig. The scent of excitement soared through the air as my normally 15hh horse grew to the illusion of a 17hh beast. 

Removing her blanket proved to be an unusual challenge, and I chose this day to mix up the order in which I removed the straps. Tangled in a tizzy of passion, she spun and reared, twisting us up in her rug. Shocked by the unusual behavior of my normally level-headed mare, I found myself dumbfounded, momentarily stuck, and slightly embarrassed.

A friend I hadn’t seen in ages showed up just in time to rescue me from my poor judgement. Grateful, but mortified, I accepted the help of my long-lost friend and together we were able to un-blanket and saddle the seemingly wild mare. 
Once she was saddled I let out a sigh of relief and muttered a quiet prayer. It was obvious I couldn’t count on my common sense to keep me safe, because I still wanted to ride. 

Today was to be her first time riding out with Count, Punkin’s beautiful new chestnut friend. Her brain soaked in the chemicals of love, she didn’t seem to notice me on the end of the lead rope. I decided to lunge her, in hopes she would remember me, her small, fragile, human adventure companion. 

Kim called a quick warning of slick ground to us and I promised to be careful. The first circle went well. It wasn’t until the second circle that her Andalusian drama come out in a brilliant display of defiance. Her feet slipped out from under her, making a mess of direction. I shook with panic as splayed limbs labored to find each other. 

Time stood still. Thoughts of injured legs flooded my mind as I watched in horror with a sinking heart. I witnessed her feet scramble, struggling with the slippery ground beneath her hooves. At least she fought to right herself with the same enthusiasm she had used to fall. 
After a few moments of what felt like an eternity, she righted herself. She was still frisky, but at least now she was careful. The idea of not riding was starting to look appealing. But something pushed me forward and, to my amazement, her legs looked and felt unbothered by the whole ordeal. 

Thankfully, we weren’t going too far from home. She loaded with a little hesitation and made a small fuss in the trailer, but calmed by the time we arrived at our destination. 

My stomach stirred as my mind flipped through decades of preventable accidents caused by riding horses I knew better than to get on. I thought of the soft nylon webbed halter I ride her in and the ease with which her saddle slips sideways on her wide sprung ribs. I remained stubborn, swallowed my anxiety and assisted my dragon out of the trailer. 
She unloaded with ease, and I led her to a nearby rock. When she scooted towards me, her back patiently waiting, my anxiety melted away. In that moment I knew she wanted this too. 

Due to her earlier mare-ish outburst, we decided it would be best if Punkin and I stayed behind Kim and Count. Punky was not pleased about this idea at first, fast forward has always been her favorite speed. With pinned ears and reluctant steps, we walked slowly behind our friends. I’m proud to share that she only tried to bite him in the bum once, or maybe twice. 

Her frustration subsided as she learned that slow forward was better than no forward at all, and soon she started to enjoy her surroundings. Happily, she snacked on the sedge grass that edged the path as we made our way across the sandy trail. The cold winter air chilled my cheeks as my dragon mare settled into the ride.

The tide was out enough for us to meet the water. There was a time when she would jump and rush forward at the sound of a wave. Any splash was an offensive splash, and I was expecting this day to be the same. But she surprised me once again with a calm demeanor we had not seen in her yet this day. 

The ride was short, but the workout was plenty. Her newly maturing tendons unused to deep sand make long beach rides something to work towards. Her ears were still forward as we followed Count back to the trailer, and I found myself in awe of how suddenly good she had become. My wonderful young mare is growing up and I love who she is becoming. This was the day I learned I could trust her. Even the memory of this ride helps bring me strength to continue moving forward as I navigate the challenges of wanting adventurous life horses and while suffering with fibromyalgia. It helped me find the bravery for the next ride.