It Feels Like We're Flying
Flying Along a Dirt Path
A long dirt path lies ahead of us that gently curves around a corner. On one side, is a forest of densely packed trees and bushes. On the other, a wide park filled with bushes, and people. On some days, you might be lucky enough to see a few deer dotted around the park. Today was not one of those days. Maybe we'll see one later.
I feel her perk up as she notices the long road. Her head comes up further, and her gait quickens. She knows what's about to happen. I gently pull on the reins. Steady. Not yet. One more minute. My instructor is riding on own her horse next to me. The other mare has also noticed the dirt path. She dances on the spot, hyped up. My instructor turns to me, a wide smile on her face.
"Ready?" She asks me.
"Ready." Is my response.
We nudge the horses into a trot, keeping the reins firm.
And then we go...
One more nudge and we are flying. The dirt path is a blur beneath us, her hooves beating against the ground. I imagine a cloud of dust being kicked up behind us as we run. I allow my reins to slide through my fingers, allowing my partner to stretch her head. Her stride lengthens, she is feeling the freedom of leaving the safety of the 20mx60m school, tiny in comparison to this great road ahead of us. I stand up slightly in the stirrups, taking a light seat. I fold from my hips and move my hands closer to her head, allowing her to stretch further. The sun shines down on us, warming her piebald coloured coat. Wind streams through her mane, and past my face and body and I feel the same freedom that my horse does. I'm flying. I'm free. Free of the anxieties and stresses that had accompanied me an hour ago. I realise that I have had a wide smile on my face the whole time. I start laughing. A carefree, joyous laugh. This is what I love, and where I belong. Nothing can stop me now.
My instructor rides up next to me and our horses are neck and neck to each other. It's started. As one canters faster, the other follows, keeping pace. A race has been initiated. I wonder what the stakes are between these two horses? Is there a hierarchy that is being challenged? Does this decide who gets access to more hay in the field? Or is it just two friends having a race? I smile at the possibilities.
We fly around the wide corner, faster and faster. I can almost feel my horse lifting off the ground, becoming airborne.
We see a cross-path up ahead of us. We all know what this means. My instructor sits back in her saddle, communicating to her horse that it's time to slow down. With a heavy heart, I follow suit. We gently pull on the reins and feel our horses slow, and transition back to a trot, and finally a walk.
I lengthen the reins once again to allow her to stretch down and breathe for a moment. Reaching down, I stroke her long, warm neck. She stretches her neck further in response. A small reaction, but one all the same. I'm out of breath too as I process that experience. I had never felt anything like it, and I don't think there is much that can compare.
"How was that?" My instructor asks, also slightly out of breath.
"Amazing", is the only word that I can muster. We walk a bit more to catch our breath before picking up the reins and continuing our journey.
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