Got this today! Got tight in the chest over it:
A Simple Statement.
>
> I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However, as many
> Women who ride know, it is really a complicated matter. It has to do
> With power and empowerment. Being able to do things you might have
> Once considered out of reach or ability.
>
> I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water barrels in the
> Cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery, change
> A tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a
> Gelding out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold
> Beer after a long ride.
>
> The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for
> Dedication. At least I call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call
> It 'the sickness.' It's a sickness I've had since I was a small girl
> Bouncing my model horses and dreaming of the day I would ride a real
> Horse. Most of the women I ride with understand the meaning of 'the
> Sickness.' It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and,
> In some ways, who we are as women and human beings.
>
> I ride I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some
> Trailhead somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog, and I ride. I
> Breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and
> Savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders relax. A smile rides my
> Sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and let the real
> World fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust.
>
> Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My
> Gelding flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his
> Sweat and it is perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the
> Walk and the movement of the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks
> And the leather rein in my hand softens with the warmth.
>
> I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I do because
> I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend
> Through the Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in
> My chest. Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be
> A real accomplishment. Still I ride. No matter how tired or how much
> My seat bones or any of the numerous horse related injuries hurt. I
> Ride. And I feel better for doing so.
>
> The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to
> Find lakes that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and
> Cold beside rivers full and rolling are the scenes I see in my
> Dreams. The Granite Stairway at Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing
> And bobcats on the prowl add to the empowerment and joy in my heart.
>
> I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how
> Competent they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch. We haul 40ft
> Rigs. We back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up
> Camp. Tend the horses. We cook and keep safe. We understand and love
> Our companions, the horse. We respect each other and those we
> Encounter on the trail. We know that if you are out there riding, you
> Also shovel, fill, wait, and doctor. Your hands are a little rough
> And you travel without makeup or hair gel. You do without to afford
> The 'sickness' and probably, when you were a small girl, you bounced
> A model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one. Now you are
> There. I ride.
>
> --Author Unknown (although, many of us feel she is our sister)
The sickness
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