Do the thing even if it looks scary. 
Especially if it looks terrifying. 

When I was younger I was fearless.  I have the scars to prove it. I guess I just didn’t have the good sense to be scared. Like most kids I suppose. I was born in the 80s, grew up in the 90s, and found adulthood in the early 2000s. It was a time before cell phones, Facebook, and the internet (thank God), and a time when I was skinny and filled with confident stupidity. 

I’m from a horse-riding family. Maybe not a showing family or a rodeo dynasty, but a family that used horses to farm and hunt, raised and respected them, and produced good riders. I grew up with all the stories. How my great grandfather was imprint training colts before it had a name. How the same great grandfather sold a prize set of hunting dogs to be able to buy the first brand new mule harness he’d ever had in his life. How my great uncle and his friends broke out a snorty bronc of a horse in a pond because that was the only way they could stay on him. The pictures of my daddy standing on his horse as a young kid probably 10 or 11, barefoot and bare chested in just a pair of shorts. The pictures and the stories run through my family the way other families talk about little league games and travel ball. I grew up with the pictures and the stories and my daddy’s saddles in the back room of our house and dreamed of a day when I could live my own future tales to tell. 

From the time I was a little girl, I would gaze at my daddy’s horse in our pasture and dream of riding him. And good daddy that he was, he traded off a little grey mare we had for my own palomino paint pony mare. That had to be the best or worst decision he ever made. From the age of 7 on I’ve ridden horses. I’ve horse shown, I’ve barrel raced, I’ve rodeoed just the barest little bit and through it all, through the good and the bad, it’s been a life I wouldn’t take anything for. 

I lost one of the horses I raised from 3 to 20 a couple of years ago and I’ve been trying to find another horse to fill her shoes. This past October my horseshoer ran across a little thoroughbred filly with a few races under her belt he thought would work for me. I’m 41 and will be 42 in November and I should be past the age for broncs and ornery colts. But my budget just doesn’t allow for a finished horse in this economy and honestly, there’s nothing better than taking a young horse and making them your own. Now I love a track horse better than anything in this world. I know it sounds crazy and racehorses have this terrible reputation for being crazier than a raccoon on crack but believe it or not they are some of my favorite horses to train. Most are just green broke, but they handle well on the ground, have been exposed to just about everything known to man, love people, and are generally pretty darn smart. Plus if they take up with you they’ll give you their heart and work harder than any horse out there.  

And I’ll be honest for a moment. I’m not the fearless brassy young girl I used to be, and this little lady is precisely what I needed.  We’ve come a long way since October, but we still have a way to go. I’m slowly getting my confidence back and she’s figuring out how to tote a western saddle and a much bigger rider than what she’s used to, but overall she’s handling her change in career really well. You can watch a new YouTube video I put up a week ago to see us going for a ride. Have a great start to your week my lovelies and I’ll talk to you again soon.