30 year itch

On Tuesday I rode for the first time in 6 months. I basically grinned ear-to-ear all day long. My trainer throws a little New Years Day party each year, featuring games and food and fun times. It's a really nice way to kick off the new year and pretend like it isn't freezing outside. I had been at the farm the week before to photograph my trainer's family as a Xmas present for her Mother. After I was finished I walked around the property to say hello to all the familiar faces. I snuffled their fuzzy faces and took deep breaths of hay-filled air. I remembered.

I remembered. Like I did after the very first time someone hoisted me onto a pony. Like I did, dressed up with my very first lease horse for a fancy dress show. Like I did the very first time (after 11 years of riding) that I found myself in the dirt after being dumped by a naughty pony. Like I did the first time I breezed a racehorse in North Carolina. Like I did jumping through a 4 foot gymnastic on an opinionated Thoroughbred for the first time. Like I did when I came back to riding after so many years off and galloped draft horses for fun, bush-wacking and giggling through the Pennsylvania woods. Like I did when I met Kiki the first time, tied in her stall, white-eyed and skeptical, pawing at the ground. Like I did when I kissed her soft muzzle goodbye.

Like I always did, and always will.

I posted this photo to Facebook after my ride:

Happy to be back in the saddle (on a little pony!)

My brother commented: "Haha...you look just like you did 20 years ago...better than any anti-aging remedy!!

I doubt if a truer statement has ever been made about me. I've officially been riding for 30 years -- that sounds crazy to me. Getting older is a strange thing... but as long as I have horses in my life, I'll always feel young.