Ready to rumble (OPEN) Jan 16, 2013 16:17:08 GMT -5
Post by Kate Perselie on Jan 16, 2013 16:17:08 GMT -5
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Now it's time to build up from the bottom of the pit, right to the top
I walked into the barn, my hair pulled into a messy bun, my eyes still lined with a perfect cat eye from school. I smiled, happy to be at the barn. I hadn't been riding in a week, so I was sure that I was going to have an off day.
At my last lesson I had had a sharp pain that shot up my side every time I rode. I couldn't catch my breath and I had had trouble breathing. I had tried to ride through it, but eventually I just couldn't anymore. It was my first time riding since them, and frankly I was nervous. I couldn't bear the fact that I hadn't been able to ride.
I had missed Abbott especially, the horse that I was leasing. He seemed to have missed me to, and stuck his bay head out of his stall door, watching me. I picked up his halter and matching lead rope and quickly lead him into the grooming stall. I walked into the locker room and opened my locker. Grabbing my things, I walked back out to start grooming him. I picked up the curry comb and began brushing in quick, round circles. Tiny puffs of dust formed. The next brush was the hard brush. Very little dust came off. The horses here were very well groomed, and even when I wasn't around, Abbott was always taken care of. I finished with the soft brush. Abbott shook his head up and down and perked his ears.
I picked up the saddle pad, which was light blue, and placed it on his back. The color looked great, a dark maroon. I flattened it on his back. Next came the other pad and the saddle. I put on the girth, making sure that the straps covered the top of the girth. I tightened it just enough, and Abbott let out a soft puff of breath. I grabbed my helmet off the rack and put it on, buckling the straps. Next I put on the bridle. It was a hackamore, so Abbott didn't bother turning his head away. I fixed the browband and buckled the straps. Taking ahold of the reins, I lead Abbott out of the grooming stalls and into the indoor arena.
I took Rye around the ring twice at the walk to let him stretch. The ring was huge, with long windows stretching down the long sides. The jumps were painted to perfection in the school colors, green and gold. Once we had walked around I pushed my legs against Rye's sides and led him into the trot. I waited for the pain. It didn't come. I relaxed. He was forward, moving nicely and smoothly under my legs, his ears swiveling. I posted, leaning a bit forward and closing my hip angle. I was glad that the pain had left me. Even though this was true, I decided that I should take it easy just to be careful.
The door to the ring opened, and someone walked in. I looked up to see who it was.