Pushing myself to succeed | Teen Ink

Pushing myself to succeed

January 9, 2012
By Luvvah13 SILVER, Fairfield, Connecticut
Luvvah13 SILVER, Fairfield, Connecticut
5 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Alice laughed. &quot;There&#039;s no use trying,&quot; she said: &quot;one can&#039;t believe impossible things.&quot;<br /> &quot;I daresay you haven&#039;t had much practice,&quot; said the Queen. &quot;When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I&#039;ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.&quot;<br /> (Through the Looking Glass, Chapter 5)


“We are here!” I screamed as we pulled into the drive way of my dad’s friend’s horse farm.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not that great, it’s really messy; they need to clean up more.” My mom said, commenting on a pile of something by the side of the road.

“No its not!” I said, defending a place I’d never been before, and people I’d never met.

“Yes it is you just can’t tell because you’re so excited.” My mom said. Anyway, I wasn’t that excited, OK maybe a little. Or maybe I was about to explode. Same thing.

“I’m not excited… oh my god! Look over there!” so what? There was a house. It’s exiting.

“She sure isn’t excited.” Jackie pointed out.

“You know I’m right here.” Even though I’m here, they still feel like I can’t hear them.

“Not for long…” my mom added, as I ran out the car door, as she barely stopped the car.

“Bye!!!!” I yelled, slamming the door.

“Syd wait up!” Jackie frantically said, for she feels that if I’m not there, with her something bad will happen. She has called me her security blanket before.

It was a bright and sunny day, but I was afraid that any minute it would rain and we would have had to go home. I could picture the water streaming down the windshield, and I could hear the putter-pattering of the droplets on the ground outside. But my mom had picked the perfect Saturday to have my first horse riding lesson, no rain at all; instead there were light rays streaming thru the windows, hurting my eyes. Making me blind for seconds at a time. And it was nice outside, jeans and a t-shirt worked perfectly; which was great because I had been bugging my mom to sign me up for horse riding lessons for years, and I wouldn’t let heat or cold stand in the way. My mom just never signed me up because she thought I was too little, or that it is really expensive.

It wasn’t a great farm; it looked like it could be if the owner gave it more love. I mean, the pens for the animals had no order, as if she only had money to build one pen every once and a while, and she didn’t care where they were, and if they matched. She just wanted them. And the horses didn’t have closed stables, I remember thinking, won’t they get cold in the winter?

Finally we all met each other again, (remember, I ran ahead) and we walked down to the house. Upon ringing the doorbell a swarm of bees came out, and no people came out, so we walked back to the car. Then a silver car pulled up, and two dogs and a lady piled out. The lady’s name was Melisa, and she would be my horse riding coach. She seemed nice; you know the kind of person who is always joking. I remember one time later on, I was riding a horse named Lonestar. It suddenly started snowing and Melisa, was hugging her dog to keep him warm. Suddenly she said, “Hey Sydney, look, you’re riding Lonestar, and I’m riding Rocky!” she pretended to ride her dog.

The only thing I needed to think about now was which horse I would ride. Was it the brown one? Or the one down the hill? Melisa brought us down the hill to where I would be riding. The horse’s coat had a grey coloring, and some brown hair too, she gave him a Mohawk because his hair gets really matted when it’s long. He was so cute! She didn’t know what kind of horse he was, (I asked because I had just bought a book!) but that didn’t matter.

Then, Melisa got a bucket with all the brushes and things, and told me what to do. I was scared to even brush the horse. Well, I didn’t think I was scared, but I really was. I was doing it very lightly because I didn’t want to hurt him. She told me to press hard because he could get kicked by another horse, and not get any injury. And when she wanted me to clean the dirt out of his hooves, I was really scared, that he would kick me. But she told me that she doesn’t have the kids clean out his back hooves because they don’t want the kids to get kicked. Thank god. I brushed him, and when he was finally clean, I went with her to get the equipment.

On the walk she told me that the horses name was Lonestar, and she said he was the most gentle horse she had ever met, even though she is always saying how lazy he is, and how he bites other horses when they bug him, and how when you try to tighten his saddle, he freaks out. She talks quite a lot. The walk took about two minutes… But I didn’t get kicked, and I didn’t get bit, and she tightened his saddle herself.

Then I had to get on the horse. That wasn’t scary, because I had ridden horses before. I was just scared because this was my first lesson, I would be riding this horse again. What if he isn’t nice and gentle to me? I put on the saddle and she showed me some things. On my next lesson I felt so proud; I remembered everything she showed me! She even tells me all the time how I’m one of her favorite students. She said that she loves how I could be aching all over, and I push myself to do one more lap. She even complains to me about her other students. How this one “sucks at riding”, and how that one needs her to still hold onto the horse when she rides, even if she’s been riding for months.

It was fun, and it was worth it. I didn’t fall off. I was scared again when I got to my next lesson, and she told me to start trotting, I mean she explained what to do so that I wouldn’t fall, and she assured me I wouldn’t fall, and she was right there holding the rope, and then on the next lesson, we ditched the rope. I wasn’t as scared anymore. But I was scared I’d fall. Now I’m trotting and cantering, but it’s still scary to do things for the first time.


The author's comments:
i had to write a memoir in language arts. its not so good... but, oh well.

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