I’ve been pondering two conversations about horses lately. They aren’t very cheerful and I always know, no matter what I write about, I’ll end up poking someone in the eye when I don’t mean to. But people are touchy about horses, I notice.
The first conversation was several years ago, but I think of it so often. She and I were talking about horses and the future. I was traveling so much then, often gone from my home barn for more than half the year. I wanted a riding horse but my barn was full of retired horses and those aren’t the cheap ones. All of these adult reasonable thoughts fought against my love of riding.
My friend had just lost her beloved gelding. And now what? People had offered to loan her a horse. She was a serious rider, and I knew her loss was two-fold. Not just her brilliant boy, but also being able to ride in the way we both liked. For some of us, riding is like a separate entity.
We talked most of the day, acknowledging that our best riding years were likely behind us. Bittersweet honesty. In the end, my friend and I agreed on one thing. We didn’t want to know when our last ride would happen, especially if it already had. My friend died four months after her horse and I am still thinking about it years later.
Yes, there is life without riding. Not everybody spent decades studying it like we did. Some people think riding is cruel, and some never wanted to ride. Lots of us have barns filled with rescues and elders like I do, and we will feed and care for them no matter what, and enjoy it. I’ve written about all that, along with retirement plans and the importance of wills with funds left for their care. Not the topic today.
I even know that all of us plan to ride until we’re a hundred. Of course, that’s our plan. Until the day it can’t be the plan. Then we have to find another plan.
The second conversation was recent and at first, I didn’t understand what she was saying. She has spent a lifetime with horses, and is very knowledgeable. And she also rides bikes. She said she used to ride all over, arms folded on her chest and no hands. Yeah, me, too, I thought. Then she said she can’t do it anymore. Her balance isn’t there. I haven’t been on a bike in 25 years, and that number alone scared me. But in that instant, I knew I couldn’t do it either. She said horses must feel that, right?
It seemed obvious. I spent decades learning to ride using energy instead of force. Balance is a crucial concern in riding, but how does age change that? Did I even want to think about it?
I am not saying stop riding. I hope you ride forever. But be aware of changes. Be more concerned about your position in the saddle and aware your horse is balancing you as well as themselves. Then listen to what your horse says above what you want. Go for finesse instead of thrills. And if your horse is over 18, give them a break as well. Could we all act our age, not what we wished our age was? Even if it hurts?
What if this age thing isn’t wrong? What about the other kind of balance? These changes in our bodies are real and it seems to be all we can talk about. But didn’t you swear you wouldn’t be that old person complaining about their health? I could make a list of all of my failings of age, but then you’d respond list of your ailments, as if it was a competition. Some would be the same and we would commiserate. Saute in our mutual disappointment while we watch our toenails get thicker. Other challenges would be different, so we could be secretly relieved or pretend to be too humble to be envious.
It would be the easiest thing to just keep wallowing in the list of the things we can’t do, which feels a bit like circling the drain, maybe for another twenty years. Humans are such fatalists. We worry when society says our best years are behind us. But are we listening to the same people who spent the first half of our lives warning us we would amount to nothing? So easy to fall into that trap while rubbing icy-hot into that sore knee.
When I was 60, my two young Iberian sport horses were forced to retire, I had money problems, and my personal life was, well, stall rest would be the flattering term. My plans turned to confetti and sour milk. Not bragging, but I thought my problems were worse than yours. Self-obsessed is the word you’re looking for.
My age was catching up to me, and horse training is a young person’s game, but during a break in feeling sorry for myself, I remembered I used to think I had a book in me. It wasn’t ambition. I wrote to distract myself from my aforementioned tragic sorrow. Then I ended up traveling the world, meeting wonderful horses and people. I wouldn’t have dared dream it, and it isn’t that I was somehow magical. I floundered on. My life didn’t turn out as I hoped. It’s been even better.
Would it be the worst thing to think what we might do if, God forbid, our horse plans fell through, as they all eventually do? Instead of listing the losses, can we look for opportunities? I gagged a little writing those words, but really, what is the plan?
Let’s look at my non-horse-related strengths:
- I still have my teeth. Midwest farm girl teeth that were like Swiss cheese in 4th grade. No floride in well water. But I refinanced my mouth. I’m proud of these crowns. Big smile.
- I got tired of jeans cutting into my waist and now I wear leggings without a tiny hint of embarrassment, although I know exactly how I look in them. I “pair them” with hooded sweatshirts, just like the ones I wore in high school. Not trendy hoodies, those cheap cotton sweatshirts. Love that pouch.
- I hold the armrest on the door and make sure my feet are solid, but I can still do that death-defying diagonal broad jump into the cab of my truck.
Make a list of your strengths and share them with us, because we haven’t lost our sense of humor. Because fear gets squinty-eyed when we make fun of it.
Whether you ride into the sunset or follow a new dream that you’ve hidden for safekeeping, don’t sell yourself short. Rise to the new occasion. Sure, it takes more courage with each year because of the constant reminder that we are not who we used to be.
Truth is, we’re weirder, wrinklier, and prone to chronic lameness. But we also have life experience; survivors with dreams and common sense. We know more, care less about public opinion, and have spent our lives raising the next generation of kids and dogs, still working longer hours for less money. And all the while doing home repairs with duct tape, nail polish remover, and a good Phillips-head. Why would we underestimate ourselves now?
…
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Your wordsmithing is some of the finest on the planet, and how is it you always seem to know exactly what’s on our minds? Thank you, Anna.
Thanks, Julie. It’s because it’s on my mind, too!
Yes
And so we flounder on. Thanks, Billie
Thanks for the realistic, upbeat and encouraging focus. You are exactly right.
Deborah, thanks. We’re still here…
Well, this blog hit in the “feels” as the kids used to say. I stopped riding about four years ago after injuring my back lifting a gangly goat who didn’t want to be lifted and suddenly weighed slightly less than a medium-sized boulder. My Mid-western tenacity saw the task through–and the 2 months of subsequent physical therapy. I often wonder if I could ride again, but the current lack of a ridable horse stymies that thought, along with the memories of the pain endured (unlike pregnancy, I can still remember). So, I don’t. All that being said, my biggest strengths now include being able to hike twelve miles in the mountains and (plus Mortin) being able to walk the next day. But mostly, I kind of learned my physical limits. Not sure if it’s a product of age as I’m in my sixties or just experience. Not riding isn’t a deal-breaker for me–and probably made me a better “caretaker” for them. Thanks much for your thoughts, Anna!
Thanks, Barb. Sadly I know the dangers of goats, as you do. Much more than horses… 😉
I don’t know if I’ve had my last ride. I certainly don’t ride as often as I used to. But sometimes I feel pressured into riding when my want-to-be cowboy friends want to ride my horses. They wonder why I keep horses if I don’t ride them. It’s hard to make non horse people understand the joy/serenity/ life-purpose/ and satisfaction derived from being with, and caring for, horses.
Maybe we see more open gates than barbwire fences… Thanks, Sandra
Sooo – the “point” of having and keeping a horse or horses is so much more than a ride – so much more. Non-horse people – non-horse “girls” do not and will not have a clue. Right?
EVERYONE of us who reads Anna’s posts is better aware of that then those “non” people could ever be.
I dont miss the rides so much, but the feel, smell, and sound? THAT’s what matters.
Yeah, we gotta laugh. Ok, you asked for a brag with a smile, I think if I remember what I just read. But I can’t post a pic here of my perfect ride no hands balance bike. I think you might guess and I just can’t bring myself to name it. 🤣 it’s similar to a donkey ride.
Hehehehe. You and I are lucky. We smile every time we even think the word donkey. Thanks, Minna.
I broke my back in a riding accident this time last year. I’m 74 and still trying to get back in the saddle? The accident was not the fault of the horse, but the ravages of time on my body. I didn’t stick a jump that a couple of years ago would not be a problem. I own a young horse 6 and am trying to make the difficult decision to sell or not. He has his best years ahead and I want the best for him. This is a hard time and I don’t really know who I am without a horse. Thank you for the words.
That’s the question, isn’t it? Who are we without a horse. We are unstoppable horse women doing other things. Thanks for thinking of your horse at this hard time. Thanks for sharing with us, Diana.
This –
Truth is, we’re weirder, wrinklier, and prone to chronic lameness. But we also have life experience; survivors with dreams and common sense. We know more, care less about public opinion, and have spent our lives raising the next generation of kids and dogs, still working longer hours for less money. And all the while doing home repairs with duct tape, nail polish remover, and a good Phillips-head. Why would we underestimate ourselves now?
…is what I love. Especially the “weirder” part. I relish my weirdness…
Wear it a bit off center! Thanks, J
I have this young energetic Oldenburg gelding I am still trying to bring “up the levels” although my goal for up the levels is reduced. I am still learning, riding better!
My old mare died in January, and of course I had to buy another horse. So I bought a 13 year old mustang – been there, done that. Sane and sound. Adorable, really. He nickers for me when he sees me coming with a halter! Trail riding is awesome on this dude, never a worry. But, nobody ever taught him the basics! (Well, what I think of as the basics, coming from dressage…) So I am having fun helping him understand halting from my seat, shoulder fore, trotting without a neck braced in a ewe-neck position. Lots of in hand work. Slow and steady, baby steps. He is so willing and tries so hard – his body and mind both are learning new ways! So much fun.
So, what happens when I can’t ride any more? Well, probably I could do a little trail riding even if I can’t “do dressage”. Or, if no riding, I love in hand work, and liberty. What if I can’t even do that? Do I have to have an answer now? Sigh.
Today is my 80th birthday. Surely I am immortal???
Happy birthday, Amber. And sorry, I think you know the answer.
Ya, I do know the answer, but can’t I remain in denial for a little longer? 🙂
Yes, how about another 20 years? Good on you!
I know now that I’ve had my ” last ” ride, and me and my older gelding are retired and enjoying it. He’s 30 now, and I’m 81 but we are still great friends and I’m lucky enough to have property so he lives here with me. I have three other “rescue” horses, but they are pasture ornaments and round out my tiny herd. I do entertain one wish that before Apache and I are both gone, I can sit astride him one more time and do a short walkabout in the back pasture. I wouldn’t ask a lot from him, as I can’t do a lot either. That said, I’m really healthy and active for my age, I can still stack square bales of hay, and load 50lb bags of feed. I’m still driving my big old pickup truck to the feed store to get supplies and then unload them into the barn. I do all my own mowing and yardwork, but I do have a guy who comes to do heavy jobs like fence building and tree felling or cleanup from storms. Life is good, I’m still driving and have no qualms about heading out to the airport to visit family scattered across the country… Hanging in there for now…. and enjoying the slower years with less anxiety.
That’s the upside, keeping horses keeps us strong. Best wishes, Dianne. You’re a warrior.
“Would it be the worst thing to think what we might do if, God forbid, our horse plans fell through, as they all eventually do? Instead of listing the losses, can we look for opportunities? I gagged a little writing those words, but really, what is the plan?”
Love this honesty, my friend. All of our plans, horse or otherwise, are going to fall through. It’s best (as you so eloquently demonstrate in your amazing blog) to face them now, head on, rather than running from the boogeyman. It’s going to catch us anyway, may as well be friends. Your blog is a wonderful illustration of this perspective.
Here are some strengths:
~ I can still use my brain (both a miracle and a testament to all the hard work I’ve done after five traumatic brain injuries, only one of them horse related).
~I can hear birdsong.
~I love grooming and hanging with horses (and manure management) at least as much as riding, and some days, more.
~After a lifetime of raising dogs, I feel as though I finally have an inkling of understanding our puppy better, and am proud of how she’s growing up.
~After a lifetime of working in industries that are people dominate, as well as a lifetime (so far) of being a people myself (introverted to the point of Covid-era seclusion), I love my age, my understanding, and my confidence that for the most part I can find my way through most interactions. *except for politics 😉
Love to you, Horse Sister. I would add, you are an excellent writer. Thanks, Crissi
I loved the honesty of difficult subjects. And it was also a comfort and validation. I felt like a real loser when some inner voice said my riding days were over. I wasn’t that old either. But the voice was firm, even when I kept asking. For now I still trim their feet and haul their hay to the barn and stack it. Clean their stalls. That is ok. I am 72 and they are 26 and 29. Only two of us are gray.
Thanks, Julie. I always say my horses think I have one job: buying their hay. At 70, I need to work to do that, so my safety matters. We should never apologize for making choices with our horses in mind, rather than our dreams.
Hi Anna Loved your latest! I have given up riding, not because of my horse, but because of me. My right leg doesn’t work like it used to and I have trouble getting off my pony. He stands like a champ & doesn’t think of moving around, but I feel like I’ll probably end up under him, he’ll get nervous & step on me, probably breaking something on me! So, I’ve decided that “on the ground” is the safest place for me and my horse doesn’t seem to care if I’m on his back or standing beside him. Have many fond memories of being out on the trails.
Thanks, Susan. I appreciate the wisdom of what you say. Where I live, feeding in the winter is the same fear. We have to take care of ourselves for them.
Love this. I hate the idea of not riding just because my guy has always been so fun to ride. He has dictated my riding and we’ve slowed to walks just to keep us both moving. I’ll miss that connection when the time comes to stop, but know there will still be so much left that we both enjoy. I just pray I will always be able to physically enjoy what comes. 💞🐎
Thanks, Candis. And that ability to enjoy what comes means sometimes we do things differently. Call it wisdom.
I stopped riding 2 years ago. I had some balance issues and a painful hip. At the end of my last ride, I had difficulty dismounting … my right hip did not want to cooperate. Thankfully Praline stood like a rock while I struggled. I love my sane Morgan mare! I’m 78 now, and she’s 21. I spend my time with her grooming a lot, because she loves mud, and doing in hand work. And ust watching her graze on a warm summer day makes me very happy. This year we’re going to try ground driving. There is always something new for us older mares to learn.
With horses or on new things, we can always learn. Thanks, Dayle.
I’d rather just be with horses than ride anymore, feeding, grooming, hanging out. My past riding training (early 70s) makes me cringe. I’m trying to atone now. However, I would love to just jump on bareback and cruise around, but I don’t bounce like I used to, to say the least. There is a picture of a pretty famous children’s author laying on her horse’s back when she’s a child, reading a book, while the horse is grazing. Heaven.
Thanks, Amy. Not sure if the horse enjoyed it, but horses are heaven.
My ballet teacher had wise words – he said when we get older, just modify what we do and we can then do what we love longer.
Thanks, Anna, for your posts xo.
Amen to that, Verna. Those are wise words.
This is so spot on for me. I have balance issues at 74 and this year has so far been a doozy. My kind gelding has become accustomed to me occasionally balancing on him or falling into him after putting a hoof down. Thank you for sharing that there are legions of us out there still trying to enjoy our passion.
Thanks, Rose. Take care.
OMGosh!! You hit the nail on the head!! I had plans! When I retired, I was going to ride the daylights out of my young mare. I had a dream of raising a baby, so I bred her mother and VOILA!! Her mother was a very laid-back Arab and of course, I was hoping that would pass thru – HA! Anyway, to make a longer story shorter, I ended up developing vertigo with a bit of osteoporosis. She had been trained and was really good – I got a few rides on her after I brought her home from the trainer, but nowhere near enough. She was going well but needed a lot more sweaty saddle blankets. Life got in the way along with my physical problems. She remains unridden at 15 and I have days of dizziness that would NOT be a good thing on a horse who isn’t well-trained. So… I feed and vet two horses and a long ear who keep me entertained. They live like horses in a pasture with enough space and feed to keep them in good condition, have shelter when and if they need or want it. The urge to throw a saddle on her gets to me sometimes anyway but I resist knowing that if things went wrong, I’d be in trouble as I’m their sole caretaker. We do what we can.
So smart, Leslie. False bravado means horses in trouble. Stay well, thanks for the great comment.
As usual, Anna, you hit an issue spot on. And thanks to all the candid commenters. Sharing woes and copes of aging. I am 75 and my 2 guys are 23 and 20 this year. It is hard getting on and off the horses, but we still ride though not as long and certainly not as hard. I am redoing our will so my animals will be taken care of if they live longer than us. I should do more yoga, but I run out of energy. So I’m pretty stiff. But it is Spring and the trail rides are full of grass crunching noises and happy blows from my 2 guys. And I’m going to visit friends in Barcelona where I first saw Spanish horses. I feel so lucky to have horses and dogs in my life!
I have heard such good things about Barcelona and horses, good for you. Thanks, Therese. We are the lucky ones.
No like buttons here but I would if I could!
This is like old home week – absolutely excellent – every one.
Just like being back at the barn.
Thanks, Maggie
I can still make the jump into my truck cab. I’ve worked harder at helping my horses stand next to mounting blocks. I got a trainer at the gym to mostly rebuild my left leg after all the surgery. I’m still working at a job I really like. I’m working on driving training as an alternative to riding both as an different task for my horses and I potential fallback plan. We flounder on.
Floundering works! Thanks, Mary. Good luck at the gym.
Love this. I miss your posts on FB. But I still get these once in awhile. I will be 64 in October. I just started riding Chili my filly now 5 years old. I have started her myself we are going slow because what’s the hurry. I debated with myself for a year whether or not I had one more start in me but I survived Mel so what the heck. My husband is always on standby in case… We got our first canter last week easy peasy. I’m amazed how things come along when you just let things come along. I rode Mel today and she is still all that! Amazing over the top mare. Dixie the little red mare did indeed have back issues like you thought. She got treatment and rehab and a new saddle, things are going very good. Those are my 3 Amigas. That’s all I have now but they too will be elders faster than I want.
Your teaching transformed the way I communicate with horses. I have some very special mares who needed me to take it down a notch or three. You gave me the reasoning to do it. I hope you do ride again if it’s meant to be. I’ll be thinking of you every time I ride like always
Hi Tracie. Thanks for the update on the mares. Getting deleted by FB has about killed my business and I miss folks like you! But I am still kicking. Give the girls a scratch, glad to hear about Dixie.
Both my mind and my body miss riding,sometimes its like a physical ache. Fortunate for now I can still do the care side, absorbing the smell,feel,sense of a horse. I fantasize about riding again, but that blessed balance is no longer there, nor much in the way of flexibility. havent thought about any strengths in a while, but i guess it wouldnt hurt me to flounder off and do so !!
thanks for a great blog.
always on the mark
I think horses make us better with dogs… and you are great with dogs. Thanks, Chris
Yes quite right, Anna. It’s a very optimistic outlook and I like it. Last May, I fractured both wrists, so I will only say that it has
taken almost one year to be able to open things again, work buttons, open jars, and do anything remotely heavy (wheelbarrows?).
Moving on now to the positive:
– I stopped riding two years ago. My Thoroughbred told me I was no longer well-balanced and he had had enough. He backed away one day at the mounting block, which he had never done in our 15 years together. So, I said, right — create something new.
A group of young riders stood at the fence line and my trainer overheard them say, “Why do these older women never improve?”
I, too, had had enough of riding, although only English Pleasure and lightly.
So I set out to create interesting courses, colored poles (which I freshly painted), cones, mixed-small crossrails, and some greenery to add interest, and created courses that the riders could use for jumping, cavalletri and ohter work. It doesn’t work very well
for the barrel racers, but the other disciplines can use the course; our arena is a little smaller than normal, but it works. The horses are worked in-hand, gently and/or at liberty, at walk and trot only. Then canter and gallop with their friends in the pastures, so we don’t need to do that. There is much play. I bought a book on professional course building which is very interesting and useful and I have learned much. We change the course often and the horses stay interested, mentally, and work in a variety of different patterns. It’s non-stressful for human and horse.
Then, to keep the brain alive further, I took a program on English Garden Design throughout History, with the University of Oxford and just received the results last week; I passed. (Oxford is just pass or fail, not graded in these programs). So, now I am off in a new direction as this was a political and social history of garden design from the Baroque Era onward. I have new friends and we
all keep in touch and discuss other subjects and potentially future programs.
We are repairing/replacing a run-in shed at the boarding barn, improving the old property, and repairing outdoor furniture so create a nice setting for summer picnics with the horses. There is always so much work to be done and the fencing is being repaired and replaced by the manager and her team. We are all working together to improve the horses’ lives, with pasture
re-seeding, and more round-the=clock care.
— At 72 this year, (my husband is 75) we still work on all these projects, which the younger members of the barn do not.
We can walk for miles, teach environmental science and radio to young people and I am an Advisory Board Member for
Opera in Williamsburg and do much of the media, working with PBS stations,locally, and bringing in opera stars and conductors for interviews (our next is May: Madama Butterfly). I have a house full of cats (7) and birds (7), so no shortage of trouble with al of them. We work constantly…which is good, but don’t have many days off.
OK, so a few aches (wrists, a slight loss of hearing, blepharitis now and then in the eyes), but who cares?
You push on.
Laughter is very important and there is never enough of it. BritComs and SNL — may they live forever.
There is still much to celebrate, for however long.
Great and good wishes to all the ladies on your site, Anna. May we all keep pushing on!
Nuala
Well, I’m 87 – and you put me to shame. The whole “two fractured wrists” alone! And the activities.
AND you still have your horses.
I send many many great and good wishes back to you, Nuala. I always enjoy your comments so very much
Maggie,
You are amazing and I’d love to hear about your life and your horses (present or past).
I grew up in Northern Ireland, so began riding at age 5 (my beginning at age 2 on a little donkey was unsuccessful).
I thank my father (who is long gone) for taking me to the riding school one morning in spring. It was in Belfast,
up the Castlereagh Road. The owner, Mr. Skillen had worked at a racetrack in his youth and he had about 25 horses
and a very strict English BHS (British Horse Society) professional groom/head rider, who terrified us all. She was an
impressive lady with a temper and luxuriant black hair, but we all followed her instructions when out on the
roads or in the fields; she made us feel safe. The horses were beyond safe; they had all worked on the streets
pulling carts or in other service, or they were police horse retirees; they took care of us.
We keep the two horses in Yorktown, VA, at a city farm (probably one that will not be around much longer. The veterinarian (and the vet practice is still on the property, which is great) is now older, like many of us, and has retired. The manager is in her early 40s and he still checks in with her but is not involved in the farm any more. We are squeezed in between a new apartment complex (thankfully many military residents who are respectful of the property and the horses), on the west side, the vet practice on the north side, and woodland on the other sides, but the area is becoming commericial. It is a point to our advantage that the property will be difficult to sell as it belongs to three different owners, one being an attorney,
another a veterinarian, and a third party of whom I know nothing. The property consists of about 10 acres, with another leased building close to the pastures, so there is plenty of activity, coming and going, and plenty of coverage for the horses, which is good. And…a good Greek Restaurant just next door (they don’t mind our going in in our barn clothing!)
Our small herd consists of 10 horses, including three retirees, a few off the track (now in much better homes), a couple of ponies, a pony who is named ‘donkey’ and looks like the latter. If you would like to write, I’d love to hear from you and we could exchange stories. My email is: [email protected]. Thank you for your kind comment.
Best wishes,
Nuala
Thanks, Nuala. Best wishes.
I love reading what you write.
Thank you, Claudia I appreciate you reading along.
I like reading your posts they make me laugh. They are so true.
Thank you, Sandra… I work at it. I also laugh while writing. that helps!
Anna, I think it has been quite an adjustment having to think about my “Gray Mare” future as a finite entity. The future no longer endlessly looms ahead. I’m practical by nature, but this less than 20 year window of life feels confining. I’m lucky that I live a life that grants me wonder, awe, and gratitude on a daily basis, but I would be lying if I said I don’t worry about being unable to maintain this lifestyle at some point. The fact that you have built a group of likeminded people is a testament to your endless skills, and I applaud and appreciate being a part of your group! I’d get up and clap for you, but my haunches are outrageously sore from crawling around in the garden yesterday, weeding and pruning.
So, Thank You!!! (Sans applause)
Thanks, Laurie. Isn’t gardening for people who don’t have horses? 🙂
Typically yes, but I’m a caretaker at heart. Be it horses, humans, or plants; I’m your gal.
Your farm is lovely, it shows.
There is no plan. I read this essay in my zero gravity chair in the barn aisle, my mare’s lovely head draped over her stall door beside me. The season of napping together in the barn aisle has arrived. She hangs her head over me and closes her eyes in peace and contentment. Being together is what it’s about.
We went on a long, adventurous mountain ride together yesterday. I’m newly 69, she’s coming 16 this July. We take classical riding lessons every week–this is our 9th year of these lessons, and there is no end to the learning, the subtlety, the nuance. Our connection just goes deeper and deeper.
These days I have to make myself get into the saddle to do our “homework” or go trail riding–her favorite thing in all of life. The nervousness I always feel about riding out into new territory alone together never goes away. But I do it for her. This mare isn’t ready to retire, and she resents the moment she thinks I am turning us back to the trailhead. She’ll swing herself back around, preferring to head ever deeper into the unknown. She is possessed of a fervor to be out exploring, a fervor I used to share. It made us a once-in-a-lifetime match, soul mates. But my energy is waning, even as that spark still leaps into her eyes when she sees the saddlebags I’ve packed. I’m so tired. But I do it for her. It’s a paradox that I’m done before she is.
I never thought I could be content not riding, but it’s her companionship that I value most of all. The connection that transcends time and space. As if we’ve been connected since before we were born, and will remain connected into the infinity of time.
I was 55 when I started riding. I know who I am without a horse. I don’t need a post-riding plan. But I can’t imagine existing without that profound bond. If she leaves this earth before I do, getting another horse isn’t the answer. I’ll just have to settle for being grateful she was in my life, and for all the gifts she gave me.
Thanks for commenting, Alice. You have a good mare.
Another great read Anna. I’m contemplating retiring my 17yr old horse (you met him in NZ when we did the haltering session). Your writing has given me a little more peace about ‘rising to a new occasion’ – not because I’m too old to ride but because I have told myself a long time ago that this is my last horse (well, maybe…). And me and him love liberty and tricks, so we will go on…
Hi Tania. So many times people retire horses years too late. As if retirement is a bad thing. And brag about riding horses who are 30. If this idea comes to you, it’s for a reason. Who knows why, but trust your intuition. And there are so many things to do, or just do less. But Thanks for sharing your thoughts. Give the boy a scratch from me.
I wonder if there’s a disconnect for those of us who board. I grew up in the suburbs, never had a horse until I got a job after high school. I boarded immediately, and have non-stop for 50 years now (I’m 69). Only 5 horses in that span of time, I’m typically at the barn 3 or 4 times a week. I made a lot of money right away (early computer work) and discovered travel. Now that my SigOther and I are close to retiring completely, I can only think of TRAVEL. While I’m healthy, I want to see everything. How does my lovely horse fit in? I’ve come to realize I want zero responsibilities as we retire, I want to be (even more) selfish and “suck the marrow out of life”. I am 99% positive that this horse will be my last. I’ve never spent a week of adulthood without a horse, decades of it doing endurance riding, so amazing close relationship camping and trotting down trails in many states. My friends don’t believe me, I don’t think any of them will ever be horse-less, but all but 1 have their horses at home. It will be a void in my life, can’t imagine not having a horse, but yeah I think I’m ready to put it all behind me and start my next chapter.
So do you think it’s because I board? Because I’m not feeding and cleaning up and breaking ice out of the water buckets, fixing this and that?
Blogging is a funny thing. I think I know what I’m writing about and then people tell me what they read. Thanks, Karen, this comment is what I thought I wrote about. I don’t think your change is about boarding. It’s easier to travel with a boarded horse than having a barn-sitter. And if they have one horse at home, that’s pretty hard on the horse to be isolated from others. I like boarding. That said, I keep mine at home, have several, used to board client horses. I changed focus and direction a couple of times, and might be doing it again. Things always change, plans get altered. Being flexible is an art. Would it be the worst thing for your horse to retire to a comfortable herd life while you retire to travel? Not at all. Tomorrow is not promised. Bon Voyage, Karen
I also boarded my horse from the start but was at the barn pretty much every evening and weekend. I had the room (4 acres) where he could have been comfortable but would have needed to build some kind of barn/stall mainly for feed/hay storage and the winters. Since I was gone all day (work) and he had always had the comfort of a herd – didnt really think it would work for us. The second and last barn where we boarded was a little further away from me, but much much safer and secure for him. Even though I didnt NEED to be there every day – most days I was and weekends. Since a friend of mine and I did feed and turnout when the owners were away – I was very familiar with the day to day goings on, especially when 18 more stalls and an indoor were added. Got much more experience (and education) too. He was buried there when I had him put down. Somehow, after that, the whole starting over with all the pluses, had to many minuses – financial was one of them.
Financial challenges have grown expediently. I hear it constantly. I wish we felt we could talk about it. Thanks Maggie.
I have so enjoyed rereading your essay this evening and the comments are just stellar!! At my age, and having gained weight & losing balance & flexibility I doubt I will ever ride again. I’m mostly ok with that. But I do love having horses at my place & hope to find the right.ones who would enjoy being my pasture horses.
Thank you, Sarah. Good luck. I always say it’s as easy to find a good companion horse as it is pick someone else’s spouse…And I agree. Especially good comments this week.
Horsewoman. It’s an identity, is it not?
Some people call me crazy. I was an ultramarathon bicyclist. Until I wasn’t. I blew an ACL playing soccer not long after I did a mountain bike race in Alaska (in February, two weeks before the Iditarod on the same trail) and setting a 24-hour stair climb record before that in January in the tallest building in Detroit. I didn’t listen to my body, so my body made me stop. I grieved the loss of my cycling identity. I was in my early 30s.
Like Anna, my life took a turn. Quit my job. At 38 got married and bought a bike store. Eventually we suffered bankruptcy. Got a new job working with dogs. Started raising Future Leader Dog puppies. Moved away from the city to rural northeastern Michigan and did freelance writing and photography for a local paper.
At age 60, reaffirming my “crazy” identity, I bicycled alone to Montana and back. And wrote a book about it.
At age 64, Crazy Horse rescued herself by finding me. (See why I wouldn’t change her name?) I joined Anna’s barn.
I’m 69 now, reading Anna’s gray-mare thinking about last rides just when I’m thinking about swinging my leg over Crazy Horse’s back. Something I never anticipated when she came to me. How crazy is that? I don’t have a lifetime to learn to ride. I’m not a horsewoman!
And yet.
As a toddler I wanted to be a horse when I grew up. In the rare times I was around horses, I broke out in hives and severe allergies. So, I took to running around our Detroit neighborhood, galloping like a horse; I pedaled my bike head-down-tail-up like a jockey on Black Beauty; by 8th grade I schemed about boarding a horse on some friend’s property out of the city and riding my bike to visit it.
I lost the dream. I was reminded of it during a chance interaction with a mare while pedaling across North Dakota. Crazy Horse woke it up.
Maybe this horsewoman identity was buried there all this time. Maybe with what I’ve learned from Anna and Crazy Horse, the horse-world I’m exposed to now, and the progress we’ve made qualifies me to embrace it. I can’t believe it’s too late—my craziness leads me forward…
Oh my friend. You were a horsewoman before you were born. You can tell because when you get bucked off something, you don’t quit. Always proud to know you. Like they say, what a long strange “ride” it’s been.
Indeed! And proud to know you.
BEST BLOG EVER.
I am a long time reader of you blog- thank you for writing such wonderful stories. They have made me laugh, smile and sometimes cry.
I wish I had been able to attend your (one and only) clinic that was held in my neighbourhood in Australia, just before COVID.
Your books and writing have been thought provoking and assisted me on my journey with my equines: sometimes spelling out what I felt I wanted to do, sometimes opening my eyes to entirely new insights and ways of communicating.
I am a bit older than you and my life ‘with’ horses is over: 60 years of being involved with horses, 40 of them with horses (up to 4 at one time) on my very small (20 acres) bush block came to an end about a year ago. I had hoped to grow old, riding into the sunset of our lives together with my ‘last’ horse, a beautiful Iberian gelding – you know the kind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. Five years of using a range of different rehab approaches did not lead to lasting relief of his symptoms. He told me 6 years ago that he wasn’t happy to be ridden: humping! This from a horse who had never indicated so much as a buck from the time I got him as a foal, through the starting process and then later in his ridden work. I listened. Three different vets (over time)and a range of (reasonable) investigations and treatments could not pinpoint the exact cause of his discomfort. I listened again, and opted not to go down the ‘maybe’ road of a range of injections etc., instead decided on retirement – both his and mine. He now leads the life he always aspired to: in the paddock 24/7, with ‘his’ mares and a small group of geldings at a friend’s place who shares my values. My lovely horse is happy! So am I – happy, that he is content, happy I don’t have to do any more late night hay nets, or to stack bales of hay, or to watch the clock when I am out so I don’t get home too late to feed, or worry about managing horses on our fragile soil during winter and droughts …
It is not what I had planned, but I am glad I came to this major change in my life in my own time, and not because of a life threatening (riding) accident, like a couple of my friends experienced.
There is life after horses: the weekly visits to my horse, some occasional coaching sessions satisfy my horsey needs.
I can also enjoy other activities in my life: spontaneous travel to explore more of Australia, visit some far away friends, attend cultural events, sewing…
And yes, I still have all my teeth – not pretty, but they are mine!
Thank you for your great blog Anna: I’ll continue to follow your journey and insights!
Wonderful Comment, Connie. It seems you have managed this question well. Not the original plan, but who gets that? A happy horse is always the goal. I miss Australia. I loved coming there so much, so in love with the skies and the dirt and everything in between. Maybe not snakes.
Yes, you don’t want this to happen – several years ago in our house… no harm done, but DO keep doors closed!
(In case you can’t open the photo: large brown snake visiting inside our house)
/Users/connie/Desktop/scaly visitor.pdf
NOOOOO! A brown snake came to one of my clinics!
You are amazing in so many ways. Thank you for sharing you.
Hi Stranger. Good to hear from you. Hope you are well.
Omg, I love this!
I so relate to this:
“ I hold the armrest on the door and make sure my feet are solid, but I can still do that death-defying diagonal broad jump into the cab of my truck.”
And thick toenails! Such a small thing, but only us gray-haired ones understand it.
I often reflect on what I will do when I can’t ride anymore. I haven’t come up with anything yet, but horses will still be a part of my life even when riding them is no longer possible. Until then, I try to pack in as much as I can now, and continue to learn to become a better rider and horsewoman. I’m making plans to go on a horseback safari in Africa, while I still can! After that, it will be a long downhill ride until I run out of hill, and momentum.