Horseback Riding Is Better Than Therapy, or Why Hobbies Are Important

Backstory

Not unlike many female children, I was once obsessed with horses. I’d go so far as to credit my horse obsession with getting me into fantasy, because after devouring serials like Pony Pals and Thoroughbred, the other books I saw with horses on the cover were fantasy novels. (Hello, Tamora Pierce and Mercedes Lackey and Robert Jordan.)

I also had the luck to grow up in a rural area of Reno, Nevada. My mom’s house had the property for a horse, but no horse, and at least half of the houses on our street—our entire neighborhood—had horses or the dilapidated-barn remains marking them as former horse properties. I had friends who lived just about a mile away, and we were all pretty horse-obsessed. I don’t remember who got a horse first, but I don’t think it was me because my envy pushed me to compensate in other ways.

Summer may have had a horse before I did; I sincerely don’t remember. But I made her join my Pony Pals club, so joke’s on her. Also, she’s living and teaching in China for a year and writes an interesting blog about it.

What’s a horse-obsessed eight-year-old to do? Clearly, badger the shit out of her parents until they get her a pony. My first was named Comanche, a fuzzy, arthritic, gentle, and impossibly patient gelding. The first time I walked him on a halter, I tripped on a rock and fell directly into his path. He paused, unconcerned, and gave me a bemused nudge. The first time I rode him—saddle-less and with a makeshift halter-and-rope bridle—my dad backed him into a bramble pile to show me the importance of keeping my seat and wits about me while a-horseback. (Spoiler: I slid off the ass-end of my pony, who stopped immediately and started mowing the grass.)

My dad used to own and ride horses; before becoming plumber and airplane mechanic, he was a farrier by trade. Sometimes folks, horse-minded or not, seem offended by his purposeful unseating of his only daughter the first time she rode a horse that wasn’t on a tourist-y trail ride. But this is one of my favorite memories of my dad—rest assured I was pissed at the time—because the lesson not only stuck but removed most fear of being thrown. It gave me the confidence to try multiple styles of riding, beginning with Western and then eventually moving to English and the beginnings of dressage. I also thrilled in riding without a saddle whenever possible, partially because the process annoyed me and partially because it seemed a little more dangerous and little more fun.

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Frontstory

After riding for a decade of my life, I let it become secondary to my friends, my boyfriend-now-husband (who also used to ride horses), reading books (let’s be honest, horses were always secondary to this one), playing video games, college education, and all the things that continue to consume my life. (Not that I regret any of it.) My third horse, a sassy and stubborn full-blooded Morgan alpha mare named Ginger, was sent to my [now] in-laws’ house when I stopped riding in my late teens. When my friend Candace, who’d also ridden as a teenager, decided to use a Groupon to see if she wanted to take lessons again, I agreed to go as friend-support but with no expectations of continuing the lessons. I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy the experience and I was a little anxious because I knew I’d forgotten a lot, not the least of which were the exact details of saddling a horse or the names of their body parts. It’d been five years since either of us had been on a horse.

I did the slick photoshop job on this years ago when T.J. and I were first dating and we realized it was him and his brother next to me.

Not only did a fair amount of information come flooding back, but the lesson was amazing. I had three long-term and a handful of one-time trainers (guest clinics) in my horse-obsessed time, but the trainer here was one of the best, at least for my particular riding style. When I slid off the lesson horse at the end of the hour, I realized I hadn’t felt so calm and focused in a long time, particularly since beginning grad school. I’ve struggled with chronic pain and knots in my upper left back since a whiplash incident as a child, but my back muscles felt . . . not relaxed as they might after a massage, but there was no pain; my back and shoulders felt settled, pain-free, properly seated on the rest of my body.

It’s not hard to figure out why this worked out so well for me. What’s better than a regular spa day—which could easily cost more than four riding lessons a month—particularly for someone with an overactive mind? Here’s something I have a strong foundation in so that some of it comes to me unconsciously, yet I still have to focus on and work at it. I still need someone in a ring yelling at me to sit back, keep my shoulders square, keep my heels down, keep my balance, keep my seat at the canter, control the horse’s gait, and so on. It occupies my complete attention while having absolutely jack-shit to do with my everyday activities.

I work a demanding job that’s only sometimes rewarding and doesn’t align with my future career goals, where my boss is good at making employees feel unappreciated (not just me and he doesn’t mean to . . . they never do, do they?), where I work well and get along with my co-workers but have little in common with any of them. My graduate program is beyond rewarding and I love every minute, but it’s easily one of the most stressful endeavors I’ve pursued. If I excel one day, the next I’ll be sure to encounter something reinforcing the notion that I Suck At Everything. (And I’m overly critical, overly analytic, overly anxious.) In my job and education, I see myself always running for goals that slowly inch closer; if one day they seem at my fingertips, the next they are a mirage in the distance (often coinciding with the days where I conclude that I Suck At Everything).

I went back for another lesson this week, having signed up for one month of them, and I worried it wouldn’t be quite as magical as the first. But it was, every bit of it, and I felt just as peaceful as before. I have loved and been obsessed with horses, but at this point riding them is galaxies away from my long-term career goals and living-arrangement goals. I don’t have to worry about the costs of owning a horse, nor do I have to get up every morning or trek out every evening—rain, shine, wind, storm, snow, or apocalypse—to feed them and perform daily care tasks. (For every one of you steeped in equestrian culture, I deserve your scorn for that last sentence, truly I do, but I’ve put in my time and I did that almost every day for ten years; at this point in my life, horses are a hobby and not a way of life.) I can’t recommend forcefully enough that everyone have a hobby like this, one that is degrees removed from your everyday life, your everyday goals, your everyday struggles—hey, maybe I finally understand yarn-crafting! 😉

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Justification

Why horseback riding lessons are the worst for me right now:

• I’m a broke full-time grad student who works part-time
• My husband is a broke full-time undergrad student who works part-time
• HELLO, YOU’RE POOR
• Student loan debt
• Takes forty-five minutes or more to reach the stables
• Add those gas costs onto the other stuff you can’t afford about riding lessons
• Remember how you haven’t bought new underwear in forever?
• BECAUSE YOU’RE POOR
• Also, you don’t have time for this
• It’s, like, a three-hour commitment for each lesson because of the drive time
• You’re taking them on Mondays while huge final project due dates loom in the near future
• Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?!

Why these lessons are the best thing ever:

• I’m a fucking budgeting diva
• I’ll buy (and drink) less alcohol and put the funds toward my lessons
• I got two pairs of budget breeches that [kind of] work as leggings and look pretty swell on me
• I don’t want to murder anyone after a lesson
• My anxieties go take a vacation/hike/short walk off a long pier
• I do better work in school and at my job
• The world seems a little sunnier, even when it’s raining
• I get to relax and be good at something without worrying about how it’s going to affect MY ENTIRE FUTURE
• Improves my posture and core strength, both of which are in terrible shape
• Builds my confidence
• Particularly after having a thousand-pound animal do my bidding

Replace [horseback riding] with whatever [hobby] and DO IT. Don’t have time? Nobody does! DO IT. Put that smile back on your face and the pep back in your step. I’m convincing my husband to do rock climbing or something else at the campus rec center for these exact reasons.

Here’s me wearing an unflattering jacket while sitting on a horse. (Photo taken by my lovely friend Candace.)

P.S. Since I have enjoyed my time there thus far, I should probably mention the stables: Lueck Stables in Forest Grove, and Maria Gudger is the trainer.