Riding with Fussie

I went out to riding with confidence and with my Mom and Moster Lone by my side. I was very excited that I would be riding on Fussie again but possibly for the last time. I had decided that if I continued to ride on Fussie, I would have an even harder time saying bye to her, but I still needed to ride on her one more time so that I wouldn’t be afraid of jumping on her since last weeks fall. I brought some flødeboller with me, like promised. When we got out to the stables, my friend, Sofie, was very sad about something. Tarzan, the horse that she loved, had been sold. Bente seemed distant, and Mom and I both noticed it immediately. She was not her usual cheery self.

We started the lesson and everything was going smoothly and very fun. We did a lot of trotting in dressage, pony training (I think that that is what it is called… It is where you go, for example, through cones, one handed, with a rock in your hand. It is a way for the rider and the horse to work even better as a team.), and gallop. When we galloped to the left, I couldn’t do it right and I was a bit disappointed when I wasn’t allowed to try again. We finally came to jumping. I was a bit nervous when Bente started pulling the jumps out because I wasn’t 100% confident, though it was better to do it now than wait a long time and then be even more nervous. Throwing yourself out in things helps most times.

We started off with pole work. I tried my very best because of my aunt (an exrider) and because there were a couple more people than usual watching. Slowly, Bente raised the jump to a low cross. That was it for the jumping. I pulled Mom over and I told her that I was happy for the great lesson, but sad that I didn’t get to jump very much. She misunderstood me and went over to Bente to ask if I could jump after the lesson to overcome what happened last time. Bente agreed, but suddenly she pulled out a jump and told everyone, “Danya is going to jump now so please move out of the way.”

The jump was about a meter high, way too high for my comfort zone. I listened to Bente, though, and tried it anyways. Fussie went around the jump twice, so Bente lowered it to about a meter high, the same height as the one where I fell off. I set Fussie in gallop. She jumped. We landed cleanly. She continued in gallop but then I fell right over her head, right down on my face. The tears streamed down my dirt covered cheeks; not because I was hurt but because I was very, very disappointed that I had to fall off. The first thing that I did was blame my mom for asking Bente without my permission. I realized that it was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have blamed her.

By the time my tears stopped and everyones words of comfort and compliments slowed, everyone was almost all gone and I didn’t hand out any flødeboller, and it was time to go. I decided that this wouldn’t be the last time riding on Fussie, but hopefully the last time for a while that I will fall off.

After telling some of my rider friends at school, the best advice (from Solveig, a girl in my class that has ridden 8 ½ years) was, “Just grab onto the horses neck if that happens again. That’s what I do…”

Next time I go out to Bente, I will come excited, proud and prepared. I’m gunna kick ***!