22. April 2007
It was bound to happen. He had to get on a horse at some point. But contrary to popular belief it was his idea, not mine. I was of course very excited by this development and did my best to facilitate his request. My only mistake was that I really should have known better than to use the mare.
Now you could argue that this early in a relationship this kind of development would be only due to a wish to please the other party and not a genuine desire to take up horse riding. But there was actually more to it than that. Because as it happens the Stud Muffin’s best friend is an equestriman, the married but believed to be gay type, and they took riding lessons together when they were about six. The Stud Muffin had a fairly short career on horseback but Adam went all the way and made it his living. So for his birthday this year he has decided to take his mates for a riding/camping/drinking trip somewhere in the UK and with the Stud Muffin being quite the competitive type he does of course not want to be the incompetent one.
So on his first morning with me it was decided that he would come with me to do the mare and I suggested that we could take her for a little walk in the woods with him on top. With Bellis being eight months pregnant and only in light work I did not think it would be a problem. I was wrong. Very wrong.
The sun was shining, the birds had come back out to play after a long winter and we slowly made our way up through the woods. Me on foot trying not to slip on the still ice covered path, wishing I had studs like Bellis’ to keep me safely on my feet.
Despite the wishful thinking it did not take very long before I fell flat on by back. Or that is strictly not true because I always seem to take most of the weight on my right side. This time I also hit my elbow right at the nerve centre, leaving me on the ground pretty incapacitated seeing little white lights. Bellis then seemed to decide that with me out of the equation it would be quite ok for her to break into a trot and head for home. Luckily the Stud Muffin managed to stop her and turn her around. But our luck ended there.
Now, and this is where I made the real mistake, instead of letting him lead Bellis back to the yard I insisted he should get back on. This went well until I had to let go of her again and step onto the side to avoid another fall on the slippery slope coming out of the woods. Bellis must have decided this was her last chance for some action before it was all about babies and motherhood and quickly broke into a trot, fell into canter and then picked up speed as she reached the road back to the yard. An ex-racehorse will always be an ex-racehorse and Bellis had obviously just remembered her racing days. She was going flat out.
There was nothing I could do. It must be the worst feeling in the world. Standing there knowing it is all out of your control, yet your responsibility. As they disappeared out of my view I decided there was only really one option. Run. Run as fast as I possibly could after them. The fear easily overruled the pain in my hip as I too picked up speed down the slope and legged it towards the yard. The pictures going through my head of the damage I could encounter the other end was the only thing that kept me going. They had to be ok. Although saying that, at that precise moment in time the mare’s health was way down on my list of priorities, foal and all, after all she was the one to cause this mess. I just prayed I had not broken the Stud Muffin completely.
Turning the corner I found an empty front yard. Just as I was about to panic even more fearing that Bellis had decided to keep going down the road I spotted the two of the just inside the stable doorway. The Stud Muffin was standing up, nothing appeared to be broken and he was being taken care of by two of the 14-year-old pony girls who had just witnessed his flying dismount. The thing was he stayed on all the way back to the yard and they fell of as Bellis slowed down and decided to do a hanger right to get into the stables. But he was okey. I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt so happy and so guilty at the same time.
In the end my bruise was actually bigger than his. And at least he could tell the boys he had galloped on a real racehorse and then crashed spectacularly. I once again had to explain my limp with “I just fell over”. Seriously, I am getting old.
Just for the record: He went on to have a private lesson with me on a more suitable mount the following week without any drama. In fact he seems to be a bit of a natural. And after the riding/camping/drinking trip he actually requested jump lessons.
Now you could argue that this early in a relationship this kind of development would be only due to a wish to please the other party and not a genuine desire to take up horse riding. But there was actually more to it than that. Because as it happens the Stud Muffin’s best friend is an equestriman, the married but believed to be gay type, and they took riding lessons together when they were about six. The Stud Muffin had a fairly short career on horseback but Adam went all the way and made it his living. So for his birthday this year he has decided to take his mates for a riding/camping/drinking trip somewhere in the UK and with the Stud Muffin being quite the competitive type he does of course not want to be the incompetent one.
So on his first morning with me it was decided that he would come with me to do the mare and I suggested that we could take her for a little walk in the woods with him on top. With Bellis being eight months pregnant and only in light work I did not think it would be a problem. I was wrong. Very wrong.
The sun was shining, the birds had come back out to play after a long winter and we slowly made our way up through the woods. Me on foot trying not to slip on the still ice covered path, wishing I had studs like Bellis’ to keep me safely on my feet.
Despite the wishful thinking it did not take very long before I fell flat on by back. Or that is strictly not true because I always seem to take most of the weight on my right side. This time I also hit my elbow right at the nerve centre, leaving me on the ground pretty incapacitated seeing little white lights. Bellis then seemed to decide that with me out of the equation it would be quite ok for her to break into a trot and head for home. Luckily the Stud Muffin managed to stop her and turn her around. But our luck ended there.
Now, and this is where I made the real mistake, instead of letting him lead Bellis back to the yard I insisted he should get back on. This went well until I had to let go of her again and step onto the side to avoid another fall on the slippery slope coming out of the woods. Bellis must have decided this was her last chance for some action before it was all about babies and motherhood and quickly broke into a trot, fell into canter and then picked up speed as she reached the road back to the yard. An ex-racehorse will always be an ex-racehorse and Bellis had obviously just remembered her racing days. She was going flat out.
There was nothing I could do. It must be the worst feeling in the world. Standing there knowing it is all out of your control, yet your responsibility. As they disappeared out of my view I decided there was only really one option. Run. Run as fast as I possibly could after them. The fear easily overruled the pain in my hip as I too picked up speed down the slope and legged it towards the yard. The pictures going through my head of the damage I could encounter the other end was the only thing that kept me going. They had to be ok. Although saying that, at that precise moment in time the mare’s health was way down on my list of priorities, foal and all, after all she was the one to cause this mess. I just prayed I had not broken the Stud Muffin completely.
Turning the corner I found an empty front yard. Just as I was about to panic even more fearing that Bellis had decided to keep going down the road I spotted the two of the just inside the stable doorway. The Stud Muffin was standing up, nothing appeared to be broken and he was being taken care of by two of the 14-year-old pony girls who had just witnessed his flying dismount. The thing was he stayed on all the way back to the yard and they fell of as Bellis slowed down and decided to do a hanger right to get into the stables. But he was okey. I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt so happy and so guilty at the same time.
In the end my bruise was actually bigger than his. And at least he could tell the boys he had galloped on a real racehorse and then crashed spectacularly. I once again had to explain my limp with “I just fell over”. Seriously, I am getting old.
Just for the record: He went on to have a private lesson with me on a more suitable mount the following week without any drama. In fact he seems to be a bit of a natural. And after the riding/camping/drinking trip he actually requested jump lessons.
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