Memorable Experience Growing Up, I Had Frequently

Memorable Experience Growing up, I had frequently heard the expression, "you gotta get back on the horse," but did not really give much thought to how that statement might apply to my life. I rode horses frequently, but I was a good rider and had been riding since I was very young, and did not give much thought to the idea of falling. After all, falling off a horse was something that happened to other people; people who could not ride or who acted irresponsibly.

Then, of course, came the inevitable day that I was thrown from my horse, and I learned the true meaning behind that saying. Though it is a pithy, the saying "you gotta get back on the horse" encapsulates three of life's critical lessons: everyone falls; falling hurts; and the fear of falling will paralyze you if you let it. Dancer was my horse, and I knew her as well as a child could know a horse.

I was there when she was born, I was the first person to ever ride on her back, and I helped train her to ride. She was a gentle and sweet horse, and there was little risk in riding her. I had literally been riding horses since I could sit upright, and I understood their body movements, the things that scared them, and how to calm a spooked or angry horse. The combination of us should have been as fall-proof as possible.

However, when she saw a snake on the road, Dancer spooked, stopped short, pitched her back legs in the air, and sent my ten-year-old self flying over her head. Had I been older or heavier, perhaps I would have kept my seat. Had Dancer been older, the sight of the snake may not have been so frightening. The lesson that I learned is that it is impossible to eliminate all of the risk in life. People who live are going to fall sometimes.

The only way to completely eliminate risk is to stop living. This was a lesson driven home after the fall, when every other rider I spoke with shared stories of falling or being thrown. The second thing I learned that day is that falling off a horse hurts. Dancer was very spooked, and not only did she send me sailing over her head, but, when I landed in front of her, she ran over my back.

A ten-year-old kid is no match for a 700 pound horse, and I do not mind admitting that it hurt when that happened. I was bruised for weeks, there was a little blood in my urine from mild internal injuries, and I was very lucky to escape with no broken bones. It was an important lesson for me to learn. Falling off a horse hurts. Not only does it hurt, but sometimes it can cause very serious injuries, even be fatal. This is another lesson about risk.

Fears can be legitimate, but every individual has to weigh the risk against the reward. Sure, it hurt when I fell off of Dancer, but I got tremendous joy from riding her. I had to make the decision whether I wanted to be defined by fear or rewards. The final thing I learned that day is that I really did have to get back on that horse.

I remember laying on the ground, crying in pain, and looking up at my father with hatred when he brought a now-calm Dancer to my side and insisted I climb back up on her. I remember telling him, "I'm not scared of horses, but I hurt Dad. I think I need to go to the hospital. I'll get back up on her later." He insisted I mount up then, and ride back to the house. Looking back, that was actually one of my father's best parenting moments.

He could see that I did not have any horrible injuries. He knew that I was full of adrenaline and that the pain I would experience in the next few days would magnify any fear I had of getting back on a horse. He knew that if my last memory of being on a horse was sailing over her head and then being trampled, the likelihood that I would ever ride again became much smaller. This.