Them wide open spaces

Yesterday evening I rode outside again. We did our usual routine in the outdoor ring, practice, practice on listening to my leg, being responsive to requests for gait changes, working up to the canter in each direction, staying in a frame, etc.

Champagne is no longer startled by the mirror, and seems calmer about the fact that by that time of day all the paddocks are empty of horses. There was quite a gusty wind, but that doesn’t bother him outside the way it does in the indoor with all the creaks, rattles and flapping doors. A man came with a truck to haul away the accumulated manure, and that was fine with him, too.

Instead of walking around and around the ring to cool down, though, we went out toward the fields. He walked along the road near the little hollow, and was fine about that (whereas the first time we went that way he thought it was seriously threatening). We went as far as the stone wall, and he was interested but not really spooky. He was pretty sure we would go see the cows, and was ready to fight me about it, but since my goal was to cool down, I didn’t ask. I just took him up the road until it was clear he was being obedient, and then very clearly asked him to turn back.

On the way to the barn I saw the beautiful great blue heron stalking a little pond for frogs and fish. He watched us, but didn’t startle.

There is something enlivening about being out in the world on the back of a horse. It seems to come from the cool air and the wind and the sun and the freedom. For a non-athlete like me, it feels the way I imagine it would feel to be physically gifted. I drink the energy from the environment and swiftness, agility and strength from the horse so it is as if I myself embody vigor and competence.

Even after I leave the barn, that glow lingers. Imagine: a high that’s actually good for you! Me and my critter; we’re becoming a team.