A Hero's Journey

It was a warm mid-september day and I was preparing to go horseback riding for the very first time. I was celebrating my bestfriend’s birthday with her family and a couple other friends. On the ride over you could feel the jitters in the air and the excitement to try something new. We arrived to Bobby’s Ranch in Westford MA and settled on petting some of the other animals. It was all very bizarre, almost movie-like. We joked around about rookie mistakes and wondered how many of us were going to fall under it’s trap. The ride was scheduled to be an hour long, through the woods and in an orderly fashion. I got on top of a platform and was instructed on how to get up on the saddle and how to use the reins to guide the horse. The birthday girl

In the space of two years, Kristine Hewlett was thrown from her mare, Cher and broker her back both times. The accidents occurred while Hewlett was at her riding lesson on her mare, Cher when the horse suddenly spooked. After having such bad luck with her horse and both of her injuries Hewlett still vows to ride again. “She said, ‘I have thought long and hard about my future but I love horses and I want to carry on taking lessons.’”(Evans) Kristine Hewlett is so passionate about her love for horses that even after suffering not one but two broken back injuries she still vows to ride again. “But despite her second scare she has vowed to carry on riding.”(Evans) For most people one broken back would be enough to stop them from living their dreams but not Kristine Hewlett. Hewlett’s second broken back injury has made her even more determined to get back on and be successful. “Kristine Hewlett was flung from nine-year-old mare Cher in November and suffered a spinal fracture but she has vowed to ride again.”(Evans) Kristine Hewlett is very confident in her own ability to have a solid recovery and get back on. Though Kristine Hewlett has had her fair share of injustice she has overcome this injustice through passion, determination, and

It was just another beautiful day at the stables. I was 10 years old at the time. My younger sister Kelsey and I were scheduled to have our usual horse riding lesson that day. However, we were completely unaware that our ordinary afternoon would soon take a turn towards disaster. The lesson started with us warming up and taking turns going over a series of jumps. But in an instant, Kelsey’s horse spooked and suddenly my 6 year old sister was desperately clinging to a 1,000 pound mare that was galloping out of control. I watched the flurry of hoofs and sand in shock as my sister clung to the mane that clearly could not support her weight. Time seemed to slow down in that moment as I helplessly watched her slide from the saddle, to the front

One of the noblemen caught wind of this however, and sought to chop my horse to pieces and trap me in their dark manor. Once again, I was helped by manor’s servants who cut the horse free and restrained the assailant so that I could escape. The poor horse was in a frenzy as we rode, bucking and kicking at anyone and everything in sight. In all my time riding her, I’ve never had such a hard time hanging on to her. She needed little, if any guidance on my part as she stampeded down the mountain, foregoing the trail and plunging into shadowed mists headfirst. We carried on through the wilderness for a very long time before we were convinced that the danger was long past us, at which point we both collapsed from fatigue.

My heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. I was excited to ride the horse, but also nervous. I had never been around a horse before so I didn’t really know what to do. I knew horses kick or buck when frightened and I kept having to reassure myself that I was going to be okay. As we were walking up to the horse barn I shook those thoughts from my head. I could already hear the horses breathing and the smell of the fresh hay was oozing out of the building. My Uncle opened the barn door and my Aunt walked out with Striker, their oldest and nicest horse. Striker was very tall for a horse and all black, except for his nose, which had white

Willow was a gorgeous, 13 year old mare with a dark, polished coat and statuesque figure; but she had a few “minor” corks. She was a phenomenal show jumper who had hundreds of thousands of dollars in winnings and ribbons; the only problem was, she was picky about who rode her. She went up for sale as riders came to see her, ride her and then they were either thrown or bucked off. During her sale period, she had gotten into a gruesome accident while eventing in Ocala, Florida.

Countless hours have been spent in the saddle practicing for horse shows. The late summer nights practicing in the sandy stable. The scorching days spent going ceaselessly in circles around the practice ring. Despite the dirt and sweat, I was doing what I loved most.

My dad mountaed his horse and tied Monty to his saddle so that he could pony him as I walked next to penny.As we started to walk she stumbled a few times, she stepped slowly. Once we walked a while she was getting the hang of it, we were at the bottom of the mountain.They stopped for Kelly to catch her breath but they

The first thing that we all did in the groups was learn how to approach the horse and put its halter on and groom the body. After we all finished we went down to the tack room to learn about what the tacks name purpose is and how it works. Then we all went back to the stalls with each horse's tack and saddled them up for riding, I was gazing around the barn again and said to myself, “ Maybe I could have a horse when I know how to do everything with a lot of hard work and effort!” The time came around and everyone including myself were ready to hop on the horse! While only one person was allowed in the arena at a time the rest of us were in the back lobby doing

I reiterated in my mind I’m a failure as I made my way past the arena’s exit. My conscience told me I couldn’t think like this whilst riding a horse, and that it was time to start thinking like a real rider. I had to find a way to control my nerves, or they would control me. I reminisced on what just occurred. First, I was too nervous, past the level of my normal function. Second, I was more in my head than in reality. Third, it was time to think about my actions instead of worrying about the past. I lost the class; did that really show that I was a bad rider? As I began to doubt my talents my thoughts provided me with an epiphany; to succeed I needed to start riding like the talented rider I knew I could be. I needed to try again to prove to myself that I really can ride

At first glance, you would have thought Grady was healthy and happy, but underneath his blanket was another story waiting to be told. Grady was not at all healthy, he was suffering from a bad bout of malnutrition and of course the abuse he received in the pasture at his old barn. On that day, I had been told not to get attached to Grady because my trainer worried he would not survive the winter. Well that is one thing to tell a nine year a day after Christmas, the horse that might just be the “one” might not survive the winter. I was not going to give up on Grady that easily. I knew it would take a lot of hard work and dedication to get this horse back into tip top shape and I was ready for the challenge. Months went by and Grady began to gradually put on weight and was finally deemed safe to ride. I wish I could say I was the first to ride my horse, but my friends Katie and Kodi rode him to make sure he was safe for me. After he had a few rides with my friends as his rider, it was finally my turn to ride the gray horse. After that one ride, it seemed that

It was thirteen years ago that horseback riding was first introduced to me. One day, my friend asked me to go to camp with her over Thanksgiving break. It turned out to be the horse stables on Fort Gordon military base that hosted horse camps during the school breaks. I loved horses but had not been around them much. After weeks of trying to convince my mother that I was old enough, she agreed let me attend. The nerves kicked in shortly after roll was taken and we got to pick which horse we wanted. I did not know the horses personally so, my friend, Emily, recommended Hershey, an old bay mare with a crooked white stripe on her face.

Lunging is when you have a long lead rope hooked on a bridle, with a lunging whip, and to warm up the horse by making them go on circles on a walk, trot, and canter. A trot is like a mild intro of a fast walk, and a canter is like a jog. Also, during the time I made sure to take notice on how Aspen moves, such as: the beats she held at a trot, and a canter. The beats of a horse are: a walk has a four beat, a trot has a three beat, and a canter has a three beat then they suspend in the air for one beat. Ellen made some rounds around the arena, making sure to tell us that Aspen barely needs to be guided since her mouth is very sensitive. She then let Chesa get on Aspen, but Chesa did not use the steps, which was weird because Aspen was a huge horse with her head reaching to almost six feet tall. I knew Chesa was a good rider, yet I know she has been doing this since she was a teenager like me. While Chesa was riding in circles, making sure she did not feel any sore spots on Aspen’s movement. During this I was standing by the corner of the arena with my mom, making sure that I took pictures of Chesa and Aspen. Ellen asked me about all of my experience from riding while I was waiting, so I told her that I have been riding all my life, so I was decent rider. Chesa told me that Aspen was nice to ride, so she finally told it was my turn to ride. She

I was sitting on a paint mare called Harley, a volatile horse, preparing to jump a course of fences. Jumping horses is a similar to stacking a house of cards; to succeed you must have every card in perfect alignment, and then you can hope no one breathes. Creating perfection is almost inevitable, the rider’s equation may be the textbook ideal, but their effectiveness over the horse is insignificant. My problem was that I looked like the latest Horse and Rider cover, I became a passenger, not

I remember that one summer evening that scared the living bejesus out of me and could’ve put me in the hospital like it was yesterday. The person that made me get back on and ride, my greatest influence. Her name is Tara, she’s my coach, and I look up to her because she’s a diligent worker and pushes everyone in my lesson to do our best. It was a typical summer evening on a Friday, the day I have all my lessons, and the day I fell off my horse.