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Last week, some friends and I decided we would embrace our inner Indian and partake in riding our horses bareback as our ancestors once had. If any of you have ridden bareback you would know that it is quite a physically demanding task. Feeling good about ourselves, we decided to ride the two-mile route that was located just east of our campus rodeo facility. We started at a nice jogging pace then it quickly turned into a runaway mine train. Friend #1 was riding her three-year-old filly (young female horse), which decided she would forget all her training and run full blast like a bat out of hell. Well, if bats ran instead of flew out of hell. In a matter of seconds my horse and I were nearly run over by the hellish bat filly. Good thing my horse has a strong mane or else I would have become best friends with West Texas tumbleweeds on the ground. Once she gained control of her filly, the overall atmosphere of the excursion was exhilarating. It was a nice change of pace and really cleared our minds to say the least. We rode through mesquite tree groves, down through draws and back up rocky slopes like real natives.
Upon return to the campus facility, we were all feeling jubilant and productive that we had utilized our horses for the sole purpose of their existence. Nothing could phase us.. Until the next day. The three of us woke up with some serious inner thigh soreness (maybe tmi?). Note to self: do not ride two miles bareback when you have not ridden bareback since the end of the French and Indian War. Needless to say, bareback was a bad choice (Ron Burgundy accent).
In this instance, I would say that connecting with friends and nature outweighed the pain I experienced post bareback horse riding extravaganza.
