Luckily, the latter question resolved itself very smoothly over the summer, as Scarlett is now in the good hands of my trainer and an adult amateur rider/lessor who rides her very well and has even taken her back to the show ring (their first two shows together involved a string of blue ribbons and championships in the hunters and equitation!). I've been missing my big, white pony, but have had such peace of mind while in England, just from knowing she's well taken care of.
But as for me -- I've been riding horses for over half of my life now (which seems strange to me when I think of it in those terms), and the animals and riding itself have become as central to the way I view myself as anything else. Riding, horses in general, and the people I have met through horses have all taught me so very much: patience, discipline, the value of a long-enduring passion, personal leadership and resilience, focus, how to have fun and laugh all the way through a good long gallop or jumping lesson. And much more. Simply put, I love riding more than I love any other physical activity (with a gorgeous hike in the mountains perhaps placing second), and I didn't know how I would keep doing it in England. Or, rather, I had a feasible idea but wasn't sure how it would work out: the last time I was in Oxford, I declined to join the riding club, but did try a bit of polo, which sated my horse cravings for the time but was rather expensive, foreign, and time-consuming. What would my options be over the next two years?
My overseas riding journey still continues (and, as a side note, I am enjoying and have enjoyed the opportunity to use my time to try new things), but yesterday I attempted to fit another piece in that puzzle by taking the bit in my teeth, jumping in, and running off with the opportunity to go out and ride with the Oxford Riding Club. These horsey metaphors are a bit too fun. Anyway, I found myself back in the saddle yesterday, on a lovely October afternoon in a little yard (as they seem to call them here) out near Reading.
The yard/barn/livery/whatever I'm supposed to call it in British terms was surrounded by green fields and grazing ponies, and although the stables themselves were smaller and more cramped than I'm used to the horses seemed well-looked-after. And, most importantly, I got to ride! The trainer at the riding school was friendly, British, and unfazed when I told her, well, I'm deaf but I've done a lot of riding in the past, though sign language does make it easier, so be sure I can see you when you're telling me something, or feel free to call me into the center of the arena when I don't understand. (She took all of that in over the course of a few seconds and nodded and said, all right, we'll make it work.) We warmed up quickly and got to some jumping. After hopping around some warm-up fences and short courses on the horse we were on, the other Oxford rider in the lesson and I swapped horses. My second horse was a big, forward warmblood type, who carried me right to the jumps (which got up to around 3', big for someone who hasn't as much as ridden in a month) and was honestly a blast. After jumping around a fair bit, we cooled off and it was back to Oxford. Something in me had settled into contentment just from seeing, smelling, and sitting on those horses. It wasn't Stanford, but it was fun. And I've realized that riding for fun is all I want to do at this point -- I had the chance to try out for the riding club's competition squad this past week, but decided I'd had enough of that during the last few years.
The only downside to the day was that I needed to take a lengthy train ride, followed by a bike ride uphill, to get out to ride, which makes me think I might not be able to do it more than once every two weeks in the future. Still, getting my horsey fix, meeting fellow horse people, and proving that I can still jump around and have a good time on these British creatures brightened up my Friday afternoon!
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