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Fast-forward to December 2005—my children were grown, my husband owned a successful business and I was a writer and small film producer of modest success.That year, I attended a performance of the Spanish Riding School which was touring America to commemorate the 60th anniversary of Gen. The horses were stunning, and that old itch of feeling a horse under me flared up like hives, but I tamped it down.
And though it was only a Training Level class at a small competition, I was as proud of our 61.1 percent score as if I had ridden at the World Equestrian Games.
It has taught other life lessons as well—that nothing you love is easy.
It takes dedication and facing obstacles that only desire can overcome.
My mounts consisted of field hunters, who were lazy enough in the ring, but an unexpected element reared its head—fear. Another young instructor took my fear of speed seriously.
The slightest increase in speed raised my anxiety levels, and even cantering a circle was beyond my capability. I rode two different school horses, but one was young and sometimes a little spooky, so I began to ride the older horse on a regular basis.