I turned up at the stables this afternoon all togged out in riding gear (courtesy of a very kind cousin-in-law). I understand that the primary purpose of specialist horse riding apparel is safety as opposed to style, but there’s something about the combination of skin tight trousers, oddly-shaped green plastic lace up muck boots and jockey helmet that makes me look slightly ridiculous.
How I long to be able to don a tailored riding jacket, palest cream jodphurs and Chloe-esque, two-tone leather boots. Maybe top it all off with a chic black velvet peaked hat with a cute bow at the back. The look would be part Olympic eventing team, part Ralph Lauren ad.
As my mother would say ‘it’s not a fashion show-just get on with it.’
When I arrived, Flow was being ridden around the manège (look it up – it isn’t anything kinky) by a middle aged man, who I later figured was learning to ride alongside his young daughter.
Poor Flow. She looked as if she’d much rather be rugged up in a field, munching on grass and sniffing other horses behinds. Even from a distance, I could see the pained look on the mans face as he tried to urge her into a trot.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Flow is great, but the fact that my legs didn’t recover until Thursday had me wishing I would perhaps get to ride a slightly more responsive horse this time round. Alas, it was not to be.
This week I had an advantage – a riding crop.
It is easy to see why some people would find the idea of a crop distasteful, even cruel. It is a whip after all. Used correctly it is not a tool for punishment, rather a tool to support the riders leg commands. You don’t beat the horse with it – just give it a gentle tickle on the rump.Once I’d got over my initial fear of using the crop (I started off whispering ‘sorry’ to Flow after every gentle tap), I found it to be a valuable aid. It made the transition from walk to trot somewhat easier and helped my legs to maintain the trot. It also helped to stop Flow falling asleep.
Mid-way through the lesson I was asked to cross over my stirrups, leaving my legs dangling loose either side. What followed was a bone shaking fifteen minutes of trotting around and around, held on the saddle by balance and Flow’s kind nature alone.The purpose of the exercise was to improve my balance and posture. It proved to be far more comfortable than I’d imagined, especially once muscles relaxed and I sat deep into the saddle.
The next rider turned up and I dismounted quickly to make way for Flow’s 1pm appointment. I felt the now familiar pain my thighs as my feet touched down on the soft arena floor. I wondered if Flow’s legs were aching half as much.
That’s the thing with horse riding – you always wonder what the horse makes of it all. Do they get bored of walking in circle and the occasional figure of eight? Do they hold any resentment after a sharp tap of the crop? Do they really want to jump over fences?
Those are questions that we’ll never get to the bottom of. I suppose we should be grateful they let us ride them in the first place. I’ve seen ‘Spirit Stallion of the Cimmarron” and if there’s one thing that film taught me, it’s that all horses prefer galloping across grassy plains whilst listening to a Bryan Adams soundtrack. (Please note: I wouldn’t really recommend this film, even if you really love horses and cartoons. I would have changed the channel had I not been too hung over to move)
In spite of her stubborn tendencies and ability to fall asleep whilst walking, Flow is growing on me. I may even be disappointed if I get a different horse next week.If this week was no stirrups I’m beginning to dread what next week may hold in store. No reins? No saddle? No reins and no saddle? Tune in next week to find out!