The barn was newly built in 2000 and was about nine or ten years old when I started there. There’s a cement floor and wooden stall doors with dark green metal edging and vertical bars on it. It wasn’t a huge barn; there was basically one aisle with one wash stall and four sets of cross ties going down the whole barn. The ring was a decent size for it being indoors. There’s only three rooms: a watch room for parents, the grain room, and the tack room. Every time I’d walk into the barn, from the age of nine to sixteen, there was a routine. I’d have my stuff in my hands: brushes, helmet, boots, and maybe a select saddle pad that I had chosen that day out of my large, unnecessary collection.. Then I’d walk up to the whiteboard to see who I’m riding. Ever since I was very, very little I had always wanted to ride horses. When I finally got the chance to when I was nine, it was a dream come true. For about my first four years I would mainly ride the same horse named Moon; he was a 21 year old paint horse, big brown and white patches all over his body. He was the grumpy one who tested your abilities and gave you an extremely hard time from the first point you even handle him: he would sometimes give you a hard time just leading him from outside into the barn. There would be an occasional switch of the horse I rode so every time I walked in the barn I got a little nervous. My thoughts were only focused on what could possibly go wrong which was probably a really bad thing to think about. Once I knew which horse/pony I was going to ride, I would grab the proper tack and claim my spot.

Claiming your tack up spot would usually be interesting; whoever gets there first gets the spot unless “their horse needs that spot” which was usually crap. People usually had their spot they often used but if someone took it, they were pissed. I can’t even remember how many times I got yelled at in the seven years of me being there, by a little girl with a screeching, high pitched voice, whose pony had to have my place. Once I claimed my spot I was supposed to go get your horse. For those four years I had to deal with that grumpy old horse who didn’t want to be ridden; as soon as he would see me he was run away. It sometimes took me 10-15 minutes just to get him inside the barn. Moon would give me a hard time with everything; he loved to dance on the cross ties and crib on the rope. Cribbing is when a horse puts their front teeth on a hard surface and they open their mouths and suck in air into their stomach; it’s like a person being addicted to smoking, it’s very hard to get them to stop. All of these things would make me more anxious for my lesson. Once I was all tacked up and got in the ring I had to get situated and get on the horse: another issue I had to deal with all the time. It took me a couple years to be able to get him to stand at the mounting block and not move away when I put my foot in the stirrup. It usually took me a few minutes to just get my butt in the saddle and to get the horse to cooperate. All of these factors would get me nervous to actually ride. As soon as Moon felt my reins shorten up, he knew something was coming; he would already start trotting even though I wasn’t ready. Being ten or eleven years old, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. He would run into a corner of the ring or try to bang my knee on  the wall. There were lots of good and bad days. When we did have a good day, it would remind me of why I ride and it would make me really happy, but I feel like now, as a result of riding such a difficult horse when I first started out, that it killed my confidence for years to come.

Time started to add up of me riding there and yes of course I got better, but my confidence level stayed the same for the most part. I rode Moon for about three or four years then moved on to other horses; I had my share of easy and hard. I rode ones from 12hh ponies to 16.2hh horses (hh stands for hands high, measured by four inches from the ground to the top of their shoulder. 12 hands high would be about 4 feet from the ground to their shoulder). For a while I had been moved around from horse to horse when Moon got retired. Then, one summer I hopped on a new one I never rode before: a 14.2 hh pony, dapple grey, super adorable; he has a small structure with a slightly rounded face and kind eyes. He was about six years old at the time and I was about to turn fifteen. My trainer thought I had met my match and wanted me to lease him. She was a fiery red-head, or ginger as I call it, who had to have everything her way. She was the most intimidating person I had ever met; when I heard her truck driving up to the barn, it made my heart drop every time, even if I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Anyways, we actually ended up leasing Fitz (as a birthday present) after trying to figure out a way to pay for such an expensive animal and sport. It was my first lease ever and I was extremely excited because it was like owning a horse for a year. In the beginning it was the best thing ever; I was learning a lot.

Once the winter of 2014 hit, it turned bad. The pony Fitz did not like the cold, he had temper tantrums and flipped out as soon as I tried riding him; he was extremely dangerous. But my trainer didn’t think so, she thought I could handle him, which I or anyone above my level technically could. I think she got a wake up call, though, when a little girl tried having a lesson on him and she got a concussion-or was it when he took off galloping around the ring, throwing his head, spinning around, with a beginner rider on him? It still gets me tense just thinking about it because I had to stand there and watch my pony mess up knowing I'm going to have to fix him. And that is exactly what I had to do. Ever since my trainer put those beginner kids on him, he was a struggle; I had many breakdowns, I was so close to giving up on this demon pony. An example of what he would do is all of a sudden while riding he’d just speed up, throw his head down, start cantering at an uneven three-four beat gate, pick up a gallop, and try to throw me off. This killed my confidence again. I had to go through a boot camp with him; I learned how to lunge him (me on the ground with him on the other end of a long rope) to get his extra energy out so he was safe to ride, how to use my seat to slow him down (sinking myself into the saddle more at the center of his gravity), and how to slowly build my confidence back up. That boot camp thankfully worked a little. I started gaining a little confidence back that I could get him in control. It took me a while to be able to canter him again, though, and even longer to jump because he had a very, very big and fast canter for a pony. Instead of the usual three-beat smooth canter, it was uneven and hard to keep myself looking nice in the saddle. Whenever I asked him to canter he would just take off and be very heavy in my hands.

This lasted from end of November to about March or April of 2015 when it started getting a little warmer out. For some reason, horses cooperate better when it’s warmer and Fitz proved that fact. I started jumping him again and cantering multiple times around the ring keeping him slower, for the most part, and in more control. Towards the end of my lease which was by the first of August, we had progressed a lot. I was a lot more comfortable riding him and was excited to ride instead of scared. The whole experience of leasing him had it’s amazing and it’s close-to-quitting times. I don’t think if I gave up I could have ever forgiven myself because inside I knew I could overcome the demon pony. When my lease was over, though, I was kind of relieved. I took a few lessons after the lease was up and they were decent, but nothing could’ve ever been like going up and riding him whenever I wanted. After a few weeks, my mom decided we were going to leave the barn, especially since we found out my trainer screwed us by having us pay her way more money than we were supposed to. My parents were fed up with her and I kind of was too.

Now I am at a family friend’s barn riding their pony Skittles. At first, of course, I had a low confidence level: not wanting to go in the big field to ride him because I was used to a pony that would bolt at any chance possible. Once I finally got up the guts to start riding him in the open field, it has been great. Besides the weather sucking sometimes, I go as often as possible and ride and train Skittles. My confidence level is up so high with him and I am so glad I don’t have a near heart attack every time I walk into the barn. I do miss my old barn at times; the horses, my friends, the environment. I had many good times there and learned a lot, but where I am now is more suited for me. I don’t have to worry about a trainer telling me what to do all the time; I just chill and do what I want.