First Fall
I have been riding now for about 2 years. I'm not a great rider, but all things considered I'd say I'm better than average (EDIT: My beloved disagrees with my self assesment). One problem has always been that people keep tell me that you are not a proper rider until you have fallen off a horse, something I have studiously avoided.
My rudimentary understanding of physics has always led me to believe that if I am 5-6ft off the ground, with my feet in stirrups and belting along a bridle way anything that puts me in contact with the floor is bad. I'm 5' 11" and weigh 13 stone (EDIT: My beloved disagrees with my self assesment) while the earth is big and a has a considerable weight advantage over me. In a straight fight I'm guessing the earth is going to win. Along with thinking that parachutes are for emergencies only I have always thought this approach was eminently sensible.
It's not that a few horse haven't tried there best to get me off. There was a small welsh cob, called meatloaf for god sakes, in Devon who tried full rodeo style bucking to remove me. I was novice at the time and I think it was more ignorance than skill that kept me on. To this day I think my future wife (fw) is secretly shocked and impressed by the casual way I stayed put.
This proud boast of mine no longer stands however. A git of a mare, called Giffy, takes the honour of being the first to remove me.
My rudimentary understanding of physics has always led me to believe that if I am 5-6ft off the ground, with my feet in stirrups and belting along a bridle way anything that puts me in contact with the floor is bad. I'm 5' 11" and weigh 13 stone (EDIT: My beloved disagrees with my self assesment) while the earth is big and a has a considerable weight advantage over me. In a straight fight I'm guessing the earth is going to win. Along with thinking that parachutes are for emergencies only I have always thought this approach was eminently sensible.
It's not that a few horse haven't tried there best to get me off. There was a small welsh cob, called meatloaf for god sakes, in Devon who tried full rodeo style bucking to remove me. I was novice at the time and I think it was more ignorance than skill that kept me on. To this day I think my future wife (fw) is secretly shocked and impressed by the casual way I stayed put.
This proud boast of mine no longer stands however. A git of a mare, called Giffy, takes the honour of being the first to remove me.
posted by gerbil at 12:02 pm
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