I hate to start making this page all about my childhood but a few days ago I was lying on my back after an unplanned dismount and I had the strangest flashback.
I was about 10… maybe 11, when the first iteration of hormones were starting to emerge.
I was waiting to be picked up after school and noticed that there was a boy sitting on a brick wall not too far away.
I felt an unusual stirring in my loins which suggested I should do something to impress this young lad..So I eyed off a nearby street sign and started swinging around it.
For someone that was not yet aware that pole dancing was a thing, it was a pretty insightful move.
Unfortunately my polework didn’t register a single response from the young chap, so I tried out something called ‘sexy running’….
It involved flexing my wrists and pushing my arms around in circles – like I was pedalling a bike with my hands… While I flung my head back and did exaggerated flicky leg kicks.
From my perspective, it was the absolute height of sexiness… which is odd, because if the boy even looked twice in my direction I would have probably frozen in fear and wet my pants.
But I needn’t have worried because he still didn’t look up from under his fringe..
That is, until I kicked my legs a little too vigorously and went splat, face first onto the pavement.
And finally there we were…
Me and the mystery boy, making the world’s most awkward eye contact, while I tried to squirm out of my too-heavy school bag that had me pinned to the ground.
It was probably at that point I realised that ‘being sexy’ was something best not pursued for the remainder of my life….
And before you get too busy wondering whether I’m available for ’sexy running’ lessons, I’d like to draw your attention back to my moment lying on the grass…
It was on the Ballarat Cross Country Course under the watchful eye of the undisputed champion of the entire equestrian world; Lucinda Green MBE.
Up until that point, I’d been trying to behave like a capable and brave event rider who was definitely not still scared of riding down her own driveway.
But there I was, once again lying splat on the ground, making awkward eye contact with someone I’d been trying a little too hard impress.
Only this time it was Eventing royalty and winner of a bazillion Badmintons staring back at me.
And then following morning, as I once more found myself sailing over my horse’s head, (with nearly enough time to offer a salute on the way down) I mentally remarked
“Gee whizz… I am REALLY committing to this impressing business”
…as I watched Cucumber canter into the distance, kindly alerting all and sundry to the fact I was conducting my second close-range pasture inspection in as many days.
Weirdly, I haven’t been that butt hurt about my new infatuation with falling off, I figure it’s just part of the process I must endure if I ever plan on graduating from 65cm fences.
Now if you’re wondering how it’s even possible that someone like Lucinda Green can be giving lessons to a paunchy show off and their $600 racehorse, well it’s due in part to her online program.
Now, I’ll be the first to tell you if an online course sucks.
If you don’t believe me, check out my book Tales of a Terrible Equestrian where I tell you about the shitshow Natural Horsemanship online program I wasted far too much time and money on 🙄
However, Lucinda Green’s XC Academy is something else.
If you’re a cynic like me, you’d assume that there’s no way you could learn to ride a better cross country round from some zoom calls and short videos - but you would be mistaken.
The LG approach is systematic and really quite thoughtful - and if you’re starting from the bottom (whether as a rider or with a green horse) then it’s really the best way forward.
I do ‘Lucinda School’ most morning while I’m sweating on the treadmill and I honestly, seriously, highly recommend 👌
Anyway - I’ve just started the 28 Day See-A-Stride Challenge because…well… I still completely suck at seeing strides 🤷♀️
I pretty much point, shoot and hope for the best - which is probably not the best recipe for success 😳
Which is why I end up with photos like this 😬👇
Because the reality is, I don’t know a stride from a sausage and often get left behind ….or fold forward like I’m licking mane.
So anyway - an optional part of this Challenge is to include a small clip you yourself jumping a fence… with the idea being that I’ll be significantly better in 28 days time 💪
Thankfully Anthony was present this morning to capture my ‘before’ clip and you can see it in all it’s glory below 👇
Thanks for listening folks.
I’m here all week.
Try the pavement.. or the grass 🤷♀️
If you liked this, you’ll probably enjoy my book, ‘Tales of A Terrible Equestrian’ - it’s available to paid subscribers with new chapters being released every few days.
And if you’d like to read it from the start, you can do so here - Tales of A Terrible Equestrian’
As if bucking you off weren't enough, Cucumber added a little "enjoy the dirt" kick at the end. Womp womp. Can't wait to see the "after"!
Thanks so much for your stories. Makes me feel not quite so alone, though I haven’t ridden much since Covid. I once did a jumping clinic with a hot trainer (as in, very easy on the eyes) years ago. I was riding an Arab who was always great with kids, but an absolute jackass with adults, especially if you ride like a sack of ferrets. All the jumps were 3’, and I had never jumped that high before. We were cantering along to an oxer (and I’m terrified of oxers - I just imagine all sorts of cartwheeling leg tangling body crushing flips), when the horse decided I’m wasn’t committed enough, so he dodged out right in front to the oxer, raced to the back of the arena, banking a hard left where I thought he was going to go right, so I got yeeted off into the sun. My trajectory was stopped short by the arena fence, which I hit chest first, then peeled off backwards like a cartoon coyote, landing on my back. As I was lying there staring up at the sky and questioning my life choices, hot trainer sauntered over, looked at me and said, “That horse should have been named Comanche.” So my day ended in acute embarrassment and a board-shaped bruise extending across my right tit and forearm.