I had my first real jump school on Ox yesterday. We're turning it into part two of our Sunday traditions. Trail ride and then I hop on the big orange booty and the trail buddy teaches me how to jump again. Because, even if we think I might have known at one point, I definitely don't know now.
|"THAT JUMP IS FUCKING HUGE."|
And we still got over it.
Saintly cow horse.
This is another place where I took the Bold Archer for granted. Because he jumped how I liked and the spot was always the spot I wanted, without even asking. Let's just remember for a second:
So, yeah, I know it's equestrian growing pains and practice makes perfect. At least the horse will allow me to do all the steps necessary to get him tacked up without making a fuss. Treats help.
Trail buddy had set up this course:
Big G's mom was there and offered to me me use her helmet camera, a Go Pro, so in addition to seeing me fumble, you can be with me as I fumble. Worth it.
But you can hear my "oh shit" here:
Later last night, the trail buddy and the beginner rider and I met up for Mexican with our significant others. They've met D before, but I had never met their husbands. Both women are older, but we all have so many commonalities: horses, cycling (I'm eager to get back into it now!), fitness. We cracked jokes, we talked medicine, we talked horses, of course, we talked people, we drank, we watched videos and made fun of each other. It was incredible. Horse people are my people. We plan on making this Sunday night dinner a regular occurrence, hopefully with more people next time (we all thought at the same time, who invited Big G's mom?? OH SHIT.).