“Advanced” riding lessons

I recently changed to a more “advanced” group for my riding lesson.   It’s at 0900 hrs as opposed to 1300 hrs, and as the trip out is twenty minutes or so, and I need to be there at least forty-five minutes prior to the lesson to groom and tack up my own horse and maybe help out with another one or two, it means an early start.   I’m not at my best in the mornings, either, far more stiff and pain-y so I’ve taken to getting up even earlier – say 0600 – to fit cin a boiling hot shower and do some stretchies to get most of the creakiness out [and time for the morning dose of painkillers et al to kick in].

You may well ask, how “advanced” is advanced?   Well, not very, not exactly Grand Prix level!   Not at all, in fact … It means the class is made up of independent riders [ie, riders who don’t require leaders or side-walkers] who have ridden for a while and have a certain skill level, and can be challenged a bit further.   We do dressage-y stuff, lots of 10- and 20- metre circles, changing rein, serpentines, mostly at the trot so far. 

And gee, does our coach work us hard.   I love this, that even though we’re disabled riders with our personal challenges and limitations, physical and otherwise, we’re not let off the hook when it comes to correct position and riding style.   We’re made to really work at our back and leg positions, and in my case, given my sway back and core strength issues – “tilt your pelvis forward and suck in your gut tuck in your tummy!” ad infinitum.

Horse riding as therapy

You know, I had a couple of non-horsey, food-related posts lined up, but couldn’t get excited enough.  Sure, finally finding The Secret to the most amazing, never-fail, heavenly fried rice [with char siew aka Chinese BBQ Pork mmm] is quite exciting, but my head is full of horseyhorseyhorseyhorsey and nothing aint gonna get done nohow until I clear some space in my brain.

Jackpot!

Gosh it’s been such an age since I had a good long horsey post – let’s not mention the lack of posts at all which I’ve explained [see previous post, blah blah blah].  I feel ashamed to admit it but horse riding was not going well for me there, for a while, but I got through it.  I was frustrated and blue in the process though.

First up, I missed a couple of lessons here and there due to being totally banjaxed – my horsey time is precious and screaming pain is such a waste of time.  Talk about tedious.  Then I had a couple of bad lessons, for a variety of reasons …  After the second atrocious lesson in a row I dismounted, put the horse away in his stall and tried to hold back tears of sheer pissed-offedness – please let me add, at myself, not the horse.

The lessons were bad, went nowhere.  And the coach didn’t really help matters. I was all over the place, my stirrups were uneven and no matter how often the coach adjusted them they stayed uneven, and having uneven stirrups when your balance is up shit creek to begin with is not helpful.  She put toe clips on which made things worse for me, and refused to take them off even when I fucking begged.

I hesitate to pass blame on the coaches because they are mostly absolutely fantastic; this particular one is a trainee I think, and has a LOT to learn.  She shrieks “Trot! TROT!” instead of giving constructive criticism or advice as to get the horse going.  She has us going around and around and around the outside of the arena, no 20 metre circles or serpentines or bending that might, you know, get the horses listening to us …  And when I untacked the horse after the uneven-stirrups fiasco, I counted and they were still two holes different.  How can a coach not know the difference between one buckle at hole 9 and the other at hole 11?  SHEESH.

Our house [in the middle of the street ... ]

We’re currently right in the middle of the Joy Of Packing up the contents of our flat [aka The Hovel] for our move on Monday … from the rental into our very very own house!  Wahey!  Moving is exhausting and stressful, no doubt about it.  We’re pretty experienced at this by now though so have a good system going, and my penchant for lists and spreadsheets does come in handy even if I get a bit of flak for it at times … Heh.

Riding lesson no. 1

After last week’s frustrating time with medical secretaries and trying to get my medical consent form signed [until I had that in my hot little hand I couldn’t ride] I was well and truly champing at the bit for my FIRST LESSON of the term on Tuesday.  I’ve missed two lessons because of paperwork, but there’s another class I can go to during the week, on Thursdays, so I can have extra lessons to make up the missed ones.  Wahey!

So Tuesday was my first lesson; I was all dressed and ready to go.  Black eventer’s helmet, check; horse-frightening black jods, check; riding gloves, check but not required yet, also in this heat my hands would be swimming in sweat in thirty seconds; jodhpur boots, required - I borrowed a pair for the lesson and am off to buy a nice wee pair of jodhpur boots today.  Lashings of SPF 30+ sunscreen, check.  Dad picked me up and drove me out to the stable …

AND I HAD THE BESTEST, MOST WONDERFUL TIME EVER !!! [!!!]

[No] Ticket to ride …

Well, DAY-UM, I never got to ride this week!  Talk about disappointed … 

The whole story is very boring and of the “she said … then SHE said” variety, but basically I needed either one of my two doctors [the rheumatologist / sports medicine guy or my GP] to sign a consent form for the RDA.  Just a squiggle under a paragraph stating that given the normal risks yadda yadda there was no reason for me not to engage in aforementioned activities.  That’s all.  As I’d discussed the plan to take up riding again with both docs, and they were both very pleased with the idea, I figured getting the sig. would be EASY.

No.  No.  And again NO.  You know why?  Because of deliberately obstructive bitches of medical receptionists, that’s why.  Who simply refused to take the form and try and get it signed, even over several days. 

Now, I’ve been a medical receptionist-type person  - I was Executive Assistant [a posh PA – also with higher pay] to a transplant surgeon and I know how difficult it can be to catch these guys between patients / surgery / consults and get letters signed, prescriptions made out etc etc.  But still … AARGH. 

An entire two weeks of lessons lost, and meanwhile the folks out at the RDA Centre were being so accommodating and saying “oh if you can’t make Tuesday, come Thursday” … but I still missed Thursday too.

*bangs head against wall*

*cries*

*crosses fingers for this week*

Just like riding a bike?

Next Tuesday I have my first riding lesson for about twenty years;  I am very excited, and not at all nervous, despite the fact I haven’t ridden at all in the last ten.  The interim years I had the occasional mad ride on a clearly insane animal [of the equine kind, get your mind out of the gutter] [I know, I know, so mine rarely leaves it], and one memorable five day trek a la Man From Snowy River in the Shannon / D’Entrecasteaux National Park down in the south west.  Five days of riding 15 hours a day in sensational untouched wilderness that encompassed hills, heath, sand dunes and karri forest.  Amazing.  I didn’t do too badly, considering how sick and unfit I was, and had a fantastic time.

Long-time readers may remember [as well as deserving a medal for patient heroism] that back in December I was in a horrible blue-black mood.  I needed something to cheer me up, give me something to look forward to and enjoy, something fun that would be both physically and mentally / emotionally therapeutic.  I decided to go back to riding, not at a “normal” riding school but specifically with the RDA – the Riding for the Disabled Association of Australia, whose motto is Riding Develops Ability.  I need me some of that!

My plans were to have a weekly lesson in a small adult group, and to volunteer my services in office / admin work, caring for the horses, schooling horses and helping out in the kids’ classes as a leader [many of the riders require one or two assistants to lead the horse and help them balance etc].  I went out to one of the RDA’s sites, met the coach and some of the volunteers and signed up.

Horse tales

Enough of the pity party - you can all come back now!  Thank you very much for the comments though.  On to more fun things …

I think I had my first ride on a pony when I was about three years old; a small black Australian stock pony owned by the farmer’s kids a looooooong way up the road from our farm.  Jedda, I think she was called.  I rode her again, properly, several years later and she was a firecracker, brilliant fun.  For the next several years I had occasional pony rides at fairs, and even a few lessons when I was eight; we were living in Kent, England at the time.  Then when I was twelve my mother finally gave in and let me have lessons, thinking the horsey-bug would soon wear off after a few falls and a lot of dust and muck.

Quite the opposite, unfortunately.  I progressed in lessons relatively quickly, moving up through the ranks, changing riding stables a couple of times, riding once or even twice a week until I was eighteen.  As well as riding stables I helped out at an agistment place, feeding, mucking out and exercising horses owned by other luckier people than I.

I got to know some amazing characters in that time – human and horse, but it’s the horses I remember best.

Hi-Yo Silver, awaaaaay

Well I’m back – not that I’ve actually been anywhere; the last few weeks have been pretty bad health/pain-wise [as in, worse than the usual status quo “bad”] and I haven’t felt much like posting.  Time spent at the laptop has mostly been aimless web-surfing and drooling over yummy food I don’t have the energy or appetite to make. 

Also desperately craving … well various other things.  When one is in so much pain one can’t bear to be touched, certain activities become quite impossible.  You know, like opening screw-top jars and scrubbing the kitchen floor, things like that.  Things that give me pleasure and are fun and … ahhh feck it; you know, I really can’t include scrubbing the kitchen floor in that group, not even to maintain a weak analogy.

So life has been a bit tough of late, and I’ve been pretty depressed about everything … Well to be honest I’m pretty much always a bit depressed, it’s impossible not to be when circumstances and consequences thereof are so beyond my control and I’m always in screaming pain, but there are times when my strength to deal with it and keep myself “up” simply fails and I fall in an emotionally wobbly heap.  Life is just not fair.