Why "I Ride"

On Friday, I noticed that our large dog kennel did not have any air flow. Contacted the Maintenance staff and Larry thought that he had it fixed. Well, the breaker popped again and no air circulation was happening.

I made plans to go riding Saturday morning with a co-worker at Lake Cunningham. I also had left my camera card at work so dropped by to get it and to check on the HVAC in the large dog area. It had not been reset the night before so made some calls to see if it could be fixed. Seeing that time was getting short and I had my truck and trailer in the parking lot, I didn't stick around to see the outcome of the situation.

However, I did receive a few calls while out riding and one comment was something to the effect, I hope she doesn't get mad. My reply was I can't be mad while I'm on the back of my horse. Things are good when I ride, things are forgotten and I am just enjoying the friendship and being outside with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

This poem was forwarded to me a few years back and it pretty much sums up why I ride and why my friends ride.

I Ride.

That seems like such a simple statement. 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 cold rain, change a tire on a horse trailer on the side of a freeway or cool my horse before drinking a cold one after a long ride.

The time, money and effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. I call it a dedication, some call it a sickness. It’s a sickness I’ve had ever since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and dreaming of the day I’d ride a real horse. Most women I ride with understand the meaning of “the sickness”. It’s not a sport, 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, load my horse and haul to a trail somewhere. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. The real world fades into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust. Time slows, my saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand softens with warmth.

I Ride.

I think of all I do because I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend through the field all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. I ride, no matter how tired. I feel better doing it.

The beauty I’ve seen because I ride amazes me. I’ve ridden out to find lakes unseen, caves dark and cold besides rivers full and rolling. The scenes most others have only seen in dreams. I think of the people, mostly women, I’ve met. I consider how competent they are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch. We haul 40 ft rigs and back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We understand and love our companions, the horse. Our hands are a little rough and we travel without makeup and hair gel. You do without to afford “the sickness”.

I Ride.