(originally published on my Medium blog)
Some of my fondest memories from my childhood revolved around sleep-away church camp. I can still remember the anticipation, the homesickness, and the life-shaping experiences that come from stepping outside of our parents’ bubble to explore on your own.
Every year we’d browse the catalog of available camps and decide what our adventure would be that summer. They offered everything imaginable; arts and crafts, sports, adventure, theater. My favorite camp was pony camp.
I still remember my two pony’s names. Alfie was a stout little pony with a longish brown coat and a beautiful blonde mane. He was a steady and robust pony who loved to follow along and eat all the grass. Sugar was actually a horse, just a small one, who had an attitude and did not like you to squeeze too hard, but I loved her just the same. She taught me a lot about love and patience.
Being a city kid, the only riding I did was at that camp. We continued for a few years, but eventually, my friends decided that ponies were boring and whitewater rafting at adventure camp would be more their speed. I followed along and left the ponies behind because I didn’t want to be left alone at camp (plus, rock climbing sounded fun). But I never forgot the feeling of caring for those horses and connecting with them while riding.
Now, fast forward thirty-some years when my daughter is invited to a birthday party at a horse stable and falls in love with riding too. I wasn’t entirely surprised, and I was secretly elated because now I could at least watch her ride. Seeing the joy in her face as she learned how to command a very stubborn pony brought memories of my own triumphs over Sugar’s attitude flooding back.
I felt the itch growing but made every excuse in the book not to join her; this is her thing, it’s expensive, I’m a flipping adult, and I’d be learning with kids. And even as my son expressed an interest and eventually joined her, I continued to stuff that feeling down and decided to be a horse mom versus a rider.
Then something happened. My son decided he wasn’t that into it and wanted to quit. Usually, I’d push him to stick with it longer, but I could see he was miserable, so I gave in. But then I started thinking. Getting a spot at that stable took MONTHS! I didn’t want to lose it, and we’d already committed the money to it, so one could reason it wouldn’t be any different. Maybe I could take his spot?
For the first time in a long time, I’d finally let myself consider actually doing something just for me. I texted the owner and asked if it was okay that I took his spot; afterall, the horse he was riding was one I could ride as well. She agreed and let me start the very next lesson.
Best. Decision. Ever. I knew it would be fun. I remembered that much from my childhood. I knew it would be hard (old lady here), but man, I had forgotten how amazing it feels to connect with that incredible animal. It sounds extreme and maybe a little crazy, but sometimes I want to cry tears of happiness when I get to hug his beautiful neck, especially after we figure out a new skill (well, me learning, him showing me).
And if you’ve hung on this long to my whole horse story, wondering what my point is, here it is. Do the thing! Don’t wait until all the stars align to dive in and try it. Don’t make excuses because it’s too whatever. Do it. If 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that the world can change at a moment’s notice and not go back to “normal” for a very long time. If you don’t take the chance now, who knows when you might get it back.