15 + 3 points
The Callouses on Your Hands by Ladye Cat
October 2nd, 2014 8:36 AM
I ride horses and for awhile, I was riding and training horses almost every day. Horseback riding gave me feelings of strength and freedom and determination that have been unparalleled by any other hobby or achievement that I've done. As much as horseback riding is about staying on, it's also about building trust between horse and rider; it's about overcoming frustration and rewarding break-through moments. Horseback riding is also about falling off and learning not to be afraid as the ground rushes up to meet you. I've fallen off of horses of all different sizes; I've landed on my feet, I've landed on my butt, I've landed on my hips, I've landed on my head. Somehow, I've never broken a bone.
After falling off so many times, I decided that my body had had enough of the jarring motion of jumping and I switched disciplines to dressage (which is like using the smallest movements to dance with your horse; pretty cool, really). I didn't jump for over a year, but one night one of my instructors asked if I would take a jumping lesson in order to train a young, new horse over fences for the first time. His name was Bart and he was huge. Picture the Budweiser draft horses kind of huge. His feet were the size of dinner plates and he was a good two feet taller than me when I stood next to his shoulder. (The picture is not me riding, but just so you can see how big he is!)
I should have known something was going to happen that night because my mom came to watch my lesson. She came to all of my lessons when I was younger (I started taking lessons when I was 12), but after years of watching, breathing dirt and dust just didn't seem as exciting to her. I had also gotten my driver's license by this point, so she didn't need to come as frequently since I could provide my own transportation. So my mom was there, watching me jump this monster of a horse.
He did great; although he was clumsy and you could tell he hadn't jumped before, he cleared all the jumps and put in so much effort to please me that it was a really great lesson. Until the last jump of the night. We were doing a four jump loop, and in the last round, I could feel that Bart was physically tired. When he approached the third jump, he hit his hooves on the poles because he didn't lift his legs high enough to clear the fence. He didn't recover in time for the last jump, but didn't want to stop and he tried to lift himself over the fence, and just fell. His legs were intertwined with the jump poles and he fell to his knees, struggling to keep his balance. And me, the little fly on this monster's back, I got to fly. I dove face-first over Bart's neck and landed face down in the caked arena dirt. My helmet protected my nose, but I broke the visor off and I had cuts down my neck from the force of the helmet being ripped off. Below my nose wasn't so lucky.
I think I blacked out for a second, but when I realized where I was, I realized that I had a mouthful of blood. Trying to determine where it came from, I discovered that one of my front teeth had been pushed into the middle of my mouth (or at least it felt that way, but it wasn't where teeth are supposed to be), and getting my tooth back in place became my primary concern. I remember standing up and looking at everyone; seeing looks of horror and not being able to comprehend why. My mom took me into the bathroom and it wasn't until I saw myself in the mirror that I started to cry. I didn't have a chin anymore: all of the skin on the lower part of my face had been torn off and suddenly the fact that I needed to shove my tooth back in place in hopes of the roots retaking seemed like the least of my problems.
I was 17, a junior in high school, and I was now a real-life character from a horror movie. The black and blue bruising started immediately and lasted for over six months. The swelling made it impossible for me to eat anything more than mashed sweet potatoes. And the looks and comments from my friends and classmates helped me grow an incredibly thick skin. When my chin was healing, I remember someone asking me if I had glued a can of creamed corn to my face. And in retrospect, that's about how bad it really looked. So this story is about the scar on my chin that's almost now completely invisible with makeup. Most people now don't even notice the scar unless I point it out.
I think about that night jumping Bart every time I look in the mirror.
After falling off so many times, I decided that my body had had enough of the jarring motion of jumping and I switched disciplines to dressage (which is like using the smallest movements to dance with your horse; pretty cool, really). I didn't jump for over a year, but one night one of my instructors asked if I would take a jumping lesson in order to train a young, new horse over fences for the first time. His name was Bart and he was huge. Picture the Budweiser draft horses kind of huge. His feet were the size of dinner plates and he was a good two feet taller than me when I stood next to his shoulder. (The picture is not me riding, but just so you can see how big he is!)
I should have known something was going to happen that night because my mom came to watch my lesson. She came to all of my lessons when I was younger (I started taking lessons when I was 12), but after years of watching, breathing dirt and dust just didn't seem as exciting to her. I had also gotten my driver's license by this point, so she didn't need to come as frequently since I could provide my own transportation. So my mom was there, watching me jump this monster of a horse.
He did great; although he was clumsy and you could tell he hadn't jumped before, he cleared all the jumps and put in so much effort to please me that it was a really great lesson. Until the last jump of the night. We were doing a four jump loop, and in the last round, I could feel that Bart was physically tired. When he approached the third jump, he hit his hooves on the poles because he didn't lift his legs high enough to clear the fence. He didn't recover in time for the last jump, but didn't want to stop and he tried to lift himself over the fence, and just fell. His legs were intertwined with the jump poles and he fell to his knees, struggling to keep his balance. And me, the little fly on this monster's back, I got to fly. I dove face-first over Bart's neck and landed face down in the caked arena dirt. My helmet protected my nose, but I broke the visor off and I had cuts down my neck from the force of the helmet being ripped off. Below my nose wasn't so lucky.
I think I blacked out for a second, but when I realized where I was, I realized that I had a mouthful of blood. Trying to determine where it came from, I discovered that one of my front teeth had been pushed into the middle of my mouth (or at least it felt that way, but it wasn't where teeth are supposed to be), and getting my tooth back in place became my primary concern. I remember standing up and looking at everyone; seeing looks of horror and not being able to comprehend why. My mom took me into the bathroom and it wasn't until I saw myself in the mirror that I started to cry. I didn't have a chin anymore: all of the skin on the lower part of my face had been torn off and suddenly the fact that I needed to shove my tooth back in place in hopes of the roots retaking seemed like the least of my problems.
I was 17, a junior in high school, and I was now a real-life character from a horror movie. The black and blue bruising started immediately and lasted for over six months. The swelling made it impossible for me to eat anything more than mashed sweet potatoes. And the looks and comments from my friends and classmates helped me grow an incredibly thick skin. When my chin was healing, I remember someone asking me if I had glued a can of creamed corn to my face. And in retrospect, that's about how bad it really looked. So this story is about the scar on my chin that's almost now completely invisible with makeup. Most people now don't even notice the scar unless I point it out.
I think about that night jumping Bart every time I look in the mirror.
