I have indeed continued — I must admit, however, that I’ve been thinking a bit more about the potential seriousness of injury than I have in the past, although the worst part right now is an itchy elbow. The scuffs are covered with new pink skin and a rash, probably due to the bandaid as much as anything else. Every now and again I feel a funny little twinge down in the point of my elbow, but I wouldn’t even use the word “pain.”
I’ve even ridden not being in a lesson. Last week, during some more hot, hot weather, I asked Mo to bend at the walk for about 20 minutes. I tried to ask him to trot but I couldn’t do it. And some of that might have been fear. I paid very close attention to us, and rode inside so that if he dumped me again, it would be on the nice soft thick indoor sand instead of the beaten-down-by-the-rain sand of the outdoor arena. And as soon as I got him to do what I wanted him to do — and as soon as got my own body in a position so that he could do so, I reminded him that he was indeed a good boy and we stopped for the day.
But I’m thinking more about injury than I used to and thinking more about what on earth we’d do if I got hurt and the answer is . . .we would start eating beans and we would see if we could get jobs for the cats. And I wouldn’t be able to lease Mo, as much as I want to keep doing that for a variety of reasons.
So I think what it boils down is, much as I hate to admit it, I’m still a little scared. And it’s no good being scared because when you get scared while you ride, you “protect” yourself (Leah pointed this out) but it doesn’t actually do anything useful because curling up in a ball to cover your vital organs does nothing toward making your ride safer. Isn’t it ironic?