Grant Me the Serenity…

First, I want to thank you for reading this. Whether you’ve clicked on a link or are a subscriber who chose to open this email, I appreciate your time and that you’ve chosen to spend the next few minutes here. With the firehose of diversions and distressing news flooding us daily, I hope you can give yourself permission to sit back and do nothing else in this moment but read, and that it leaves you feeling a tiny bit refreshed.

My departure date for the Whistler Wilderness Ride is imminent and I am in the thick of trip prep. I don’t know what this looks like for you, but for me it is always INTENSE. I make lists, lots of lists. Things to buy, things to research, things to pack, things to do before I leave.

I’m learning a bunch of new stuff, which is always good. Did you know you can now scan your passport into an app on your phone? Plus, there’s the camping aspect which is entirely new for me. Bug spray. Check. Head lamp. Check.

We can only bring soft-sided luggage on this trip, so I got a duffel bag and several compression packing cubes. And because I’ll be hefting said duffel into the overhead bin (there’s no checking a bag that contains a riding helmet because they can only sustain a single trauma, and have you seen the way checked luggage gets thrown around?) I’ve got to keep it light as possible. This means that toiletries and other items like shoes go into a backpack along with my iPad, reading material, and snacks, making for a game of Tetris within the confines of a bag small enough to fit under a plane seat.

Then I have to figure out how to get it all to the gate. Hey, internet, how can I reasonably carry a duffel AND a backpack through an airport? My duffel bag has backpack straps, so I’ve settled on the front-and-back approach. It’s quite a sight. I’ll be wearing my backpack on my chest and my duffel on my back. And making sure I take the duffel off first because otherwise I’ll tip over like a turtle on its back. This is what rehearsal is for, folks.

Then there’s prep for the horseback riding, which is the reason for this trip. I found myself taking a more mellow approach here, not driving myself like a drill instructor. Lots of stretching, back and hips and legs. Twice weekly workouts with kettlebells and dumbbells. Long daily brisk walks, most recently with a weighted vest. An occasional jog when the summer air wasn’t soupy. And core strengthening, because we’ll be in the saddle for five or six hours per day.

I’ve struggled a bit with coming to terms that mellow may also be the best way to go when it comes to my mount for this ride. Growing up, I worked hard at becoming skilled enough to ride the “hotter” horses, working my way from the clunky sedans, slow and safe, to the faster, more temperamental sports cars. I remember how proud I was at riding camp when I finally graduated to the Advanced ring where I spent most of my days riding Kubish. He was named after a supposedly crazy family with a farm near the camp. Kubish was a tall, flashy, high-strung Saddlebred who had to be ridden in a complex bit requiring two sets of reins. I remember the instructor teaching me to respond to his nutty antics by slowing my breathing to calm him down. At the end of the summer, I brought home the laminated stall sign bearing his name and stuck it on my bedroom wall.

These days I ride a fiery chestnut mare who’s run away with a few riders. But not me. Can you hear the silly pride in that? She’s a lot of fun, and a challenging ride.

When I got to the place in my pre-ride tour company paperwork where I had to describe the characteristics of the kind of horse I like to ride, I swear I planned to write “easygoing.” I really did. What I typed instead was “Likes to go fast. Lively but not insane.” Sigh. I think I was afraid of getting stuck on a pokey steed who needs constant prodding to keep up with the others, forgetting that there’s a whole spectrum between dud and bat shit crazy.

Then about a week ago, my thumbs were really sore after working out and I got concerned about holding and working the reins for hours at a time. So I wrote to the travel company to let them know I have basal joint arthritis and to ask if I should maybe ride with thicker reins. I added that it would help if I didn’t ride a horse who has to be constantly held back. My message was relayed to the tour operator, whose response was reassuring. Turns out he also has arthritis in his thumbs and their Western reins are thicker than my usual English ones. And then he wrote, “On the right horse, it should not be an issue.”

That hit me me right in the gut. It’s what I’ve been resisting. The right horse for me has changed.

Time to practice a little acceptance. Or at least, as my mentor suggests, to pray for the willingness to be willing. Like everyone else, I am getting older. That doesn’t mean I have to stop doing what I love, I just have to do those things a little differently.

What truth have you been resisting?