I started riding horses again about a year ago after my parents bought one. I grew up riding, got pretty decent when I was about 12, then abandoned it for other hobbies. My parents, on the other hand, have always been obsessed with them, and now have their horses on their own property. They just saddle up, and ride through the sagebrush right from their own front door. Since the weather has improved and ski season is over, I've been trekking out to their house to ride. I ride my mom's horse, Jackie, and my mom rides my dad's horse, Blackwell. My mom has had Jackie for about a year and a half now I've been acquainted with her many quirks. She's a typical mare; full of back leg bucks and unannounced spooks. My mom is an excellent rider and has taught me how to navigate the many moods of her grey, 8 year old bitchy bitch. I've had a few tests on her back, but never been really scared; or been close to falling off. My dad's horse is the same age as Jackie, but their size difference is the equivalent of driving a Hummer versus a Mini Cooper. I don't know much about my dad's horse, but like my mom, my dad is an excellent rider, with loads of experience in the saddle.
Yesterday was the perfect day for a little ride. It was in the 60's, partly cloudy, and that infamous Reno wind hadn't cropped up yet. My mom and I headed out. We rode in a line on a single track through the hills; Blackwell in front, and Jackie on his rear, occasionally nipping him on the butt for some sisterly payback. We came down one hill, trotted side by side along a dirt road, and crossed the single lane highway to a grassy meadow tucked down under the trees. As we arced our way down to the lush terrain, Jackie picked up her step. We were heading in the direction of home ... and she knew it. The walk wasn't fast enough for her, so she picked up her pace into a slow trot. When I tried to slow her back down to a walk, she stuck her giant dinosaur head into the air and shook it from side to side as if to say, "No, no, no!" At that point, my mom offered we swap horses. Blackwell was in a mellow mood and Jackie was getting her bitch on, so figuring my mom could better handle her the rest of the way home, I said sure. I got onto Blackwell feeling as though I had just taken the elevator up to the second floor. It was like getting out of a low-rider and climbing into a Dodge Ram. With my mom now on Jackie, they took the lead into the meadow, which had a long distance of tall grass and flat earth laid out in front of us. We were flanked by a gradual hill of tall sagebrush on either side. My mom asked me if I'd like to trot Blackwell and, taking on my newly adopted attitude of "why not?", said sure. We started to trot and I immediately felt ... off. His trot was so much bigger and off-balancing to me ... compared to Jackie. My reins felt loose, my rhythm was not right, and I couldn't slow him down enough to stay right behind Jackie, which my mom had told me to do. I said I needed to stop and recollect myself. My mom said we'd try it again, but if he gets going too fast, to turn him to the right, straight into the sagebrush, which will slow him down and ultimately force him to stop. With those instructions, we decided to try again. My mom and Jackie took off, and immediately, Blackwell wanted to bolt. I had recently been taught to take a horse into a circle if they are getting too amped up and just want to jam. So, I thought I'd give that a try. I took him into a little, small circle ... felt confident about our slow pace, and headed him toward Jackie. But when he saw his sister, all bets were off. His immense body literally lurched from almost a stand still to a full-on gallop. His back flattened underneath me and I felt his mouth clench down on the bit like a pit bull with a chew toy. I tried what few tools I have to slow him down with the reins and my body positioning, but the unwanted gallop put a pit in my stomach and each stride felt like a loop-dy-loop on a roller coaster. I pulled my right rein out to try to send us into the sagebrush, but he wasn't interested. My tiny pull to the right only forced his head to go right and his body to continue straight. I finally got his massive body to take a right, 90 degree turn into the sagebrush. He thundered uphill, slashing through the tall brush like the TRex in Jurassic Park ... crashing through the giant rain forest. Blackwell's speed only increased, his hind end thrusting us quickly towards a barbed wire fence. It was at this point that he started bucking ... compressing and extending his spine ... rounding and arching the two ends of his body. I bounced hard to the left ... his head whipping high and hitting my forehead. I thought that would be it ... I saw the deep ground and thought, "this is gonna hurt" ... but somehow my balance stuck, and my weight shifted to the right again. I was still in the saddle. In the next seconds, either I finally did something right to grind Blackwell to a rough halt, or he was done .... bored now, having ridded himself of 8 year old angst. We were both breathing hard, standing sideways on the hill, less than 10 feet away from the fence. My mom and Jackie appeared instantly at our side. I thought about crying, but decided to be tough. I was shaking, my legs violently trembling as I stood up in the stirrups to dismount. We traded horses and I settled into Jackie's low back, feeling light and scattered. The moment gone ... the surreal glitch that had taken me from conscious, everyday life, to instant terror and the present moment of thought that this was how I was going to die. The quiet continuance of life fell upon me like a hushed turning page. "Oh", I thought, "I'm still here, my body is here, my heart is beating and I get to keep going ... seeing, breathing, moving, living." We slowly walked home. As we un-tacked the horses, I hugged my mom; held her tight ... kissed Jackie and Blackwell on their noses. "Thank you", I said, "Thank you for keeping me safe."
