Why Do I Ride?

 

                     by Nick Warhol

 

                     Because of yesterday. I spent 30 minutes in my own personal

                     version of heaven. I was riding my young, Arabian gelding with

                     one of my best riding buddies in a beautiful, cool, shaded

                     redwood forest on some perfectly manicured single track trails.

                     My horse can still get a little nervous when he is out front but he

                     is getting more and more bold with each ride. We started our morning 

                     walking ahead of our friend and her horse along the perfect wooded

       trail down towards the river.  In sixty minutes we reached the water, my

       horse was being very brave.   He looked at all those Arabian-horse trail

                     goblins but he held his confidence and did not spook. He got

                     nervous a few times but I calmly asked him to proceed. Each

                     time he survives a goblin, he drops his head and licks his lips.

                     He is getting there, I keep telling him as I pat his neck.  He flicks

                       his ears back in acknowledgment of my voice and turns them back

                     forward, ever watching and listening to the world in front of him.

 

                     He is beautiful, this horse. A big, strong, flashy, chestnut with

                     four white stockings, a big white blaze and lots of energy. I

                     hope he will be a great endurance horse someday, but for now

                     we are doing conditioning and together we are strengthening

                     our relationship. Although he is spectacular to look at, it's what

                     inside that makes him special. He and I are becoming a team.

 

                     We arrive at the beautiful river in the forest and both horses drink nicely.

      We splash around in the creek, the cool water coming up to our

                     stirrups, our horses enjoying the cool water.  After a nice break we head

       back up the trail and I suggest we do some aerobic conditioning. My friend

       Jean said:  "YES!"  My horse and I are leading, so I ask him for a nice, easy

       trot.

 

       Here is where it all began. We move out up the climb, threading our

                     way up the mountain side, staying on the beautiful, sculptured, single

                     track trail. My horse is trotting up and up, I’m balanced on his back,

                     posting easily with each of his huge, smooth strides. We are

                     flying up the trail, yet we are in total control. No pulling on his

                     mouth, my subtle weight shifts in the saddle bring the desired

                     speed.  I glance over as we bend around the switchbacks on the uphill

                     trail- there is Jean and her wonderful horse giving chase. He

                     wants to stay with my horse: we let them go together.

 

                     Up, up the mountain we go. The climb is not steep but is consistent.

                     We weave between trees, rocks and into the dense forest. My

                     horse is looking at things along the trail but is in some kind of relaxed state

                     he has not been in before. We are moving up the beautiful

                     mountain side with the grace of a gazelle and he is confident!

                     He takes me around turns, up and down slight rises, all the time

                     moving in an effortless motion. He is so strong he is barely

                     breathing hard. I smile as we swoop around some of the

                     switchbacks, when he glances back for his buddy. Orion is

                     always there, following us, climbing effortlessly up the trail. We stretch out

                     into a big trot, where he effortlessly gobbles up huge tracts of trail.

                     Slowly now, we are threading through trees. We dive between the trees, back

                     and forth, moving with the grace of a giant-slalom skier. It is silent, except

                     for the sounds of his hoofs on the soft trail and some soft branches

                     that glance off my helmet.

 

                     We come to a tight turn- I ask him to walk, which he does

                     instantly. Three steps, bend around a fence, he checks for his

                     buddy with a glance, then it's that powerful trot again. We breeze along

      a tight trail with a long drop off to one side. Neither of us are

                     concerned- we are one and we are confident. The trail finally

                     reaches the summit and we burst out of the shadows into the

                     bright sunlight. He does not want to stop but the trail is over! He

                     comes to a nice walk, waits for Jean and Orion, then turns his

                     head to look at me. Yes, my friend, that was fun.

 

                     That's why I ride. Sometimes it can be a challenge, but for that

                     brief three miles and 30 minutes, the world was mine. I was

                     lucky enough to share it with Shatta.