Sunday’s riding lesson was the first step to a dream that I’ve had for Gabe ever since I bought him: my instructor, Equi-J, and I worked on my first musical freestyle (aka, a kur). Sure, most of the horse people I know who’re reading this are probably like, “Wow, took you long enough…” because they’ve long since done one, but I never have, for one excuse or another. And the music I want to use? Super Mario Brothers. I anticipate this to be a very fun, whimsical kur.
Though, if the kur goes the same as this lesson, I’ll have to schedule in regular airs above the ground. ”K-A: 10 meter half circle onto centerline, V: irritated buck, X: halt, salute, X-G: 3 consecutive bucks, punctuated by angry farts of effort, G-M: 10 meter half circle and angry toss of head so Gabe can prove I’m not the boss of him…” The test we designed is challenging–very bold for our level–and we CAN get the movements in a semi-organized fashion. But there were times when I guess I asked too hard (or the movement required more effort that he wanted to put forth)–like the canter-trot-canter transition on the centerline, with only 2 strides of trot, that resulted in 10 (T-E-N) bucks up the centerline, with a gorgeous, accidental flying change at C. Gonna have to mark those into the musical scale…maybe put them to the tune of the whoop-whoop-whoop warp noises.
Times like those were offset by Equi-J’s comments like, “Did you know that X combo of movements [that you just did] is in Fourth level tests?” And I’m like, “Oh…how did it look?” And I get the response: “FABULOUS!” Comments like will offset a centerline full of bucks any day.
Of course, the downside to that fabulous lesson with those less-than-fabulous bucks, is that Gabe essentially got the last laugh because now my my back’s out. Well, ok, not “can’t tie my shoes” kind of out, but it DID say “eff you” every time I tried to move on Sunday and today it’s still very angry and we’re currently not on speaking terms. It gets harder to tell myself that it was worth it when I have to appear like I’m coolly sauntering around my office to mask the fact that if there was a fire drill, I’d just lay down on the carpet and drink a Coke because I can’t outrun anything faster than a paperweight. I’d just have to salute the fire with my Coke can and yell philosophically-clever things like, “LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR” and hope someone heard me so they could tell the newspapers how brave and philosophical I was in my final moments.
Even though my back had been doing fine up until all the bucking, I was forced to concede that being fat is certainly not helping the situation–my back frequently goes out after I ride when I’m heavier. Nor the fact that the fatness, previously intimidated by my regular running schedule, had rallied with a vengeance after I took the month of July some time off due to laziness important other things. So I spent most of Sunday worrying about the fact that I might not be in shape enough for the Warrior Dash event I signed up for in October.
And then I realized that this wasn’t worth it. I used to see really fit people at lunch morosely choking down their handful of field greens and then decide to splurge for the afternoon and have a Diet Coke instead of water–and I always felt superior. Because even though they were much skinnier than me, I was enjoying the hell out of my pizza. Then I’d look at them with pity and declare that I know I got more enjoyment out of eating that delicious, gooey slice of pizza than they did running that last seventeen miles yesterday. I felt like my food enjoyment far outweighed their skinny enjoyment. I’ve realized that’s not quite the case: it’s not just about the skinny.
I’ve been thin before. And I’ve eaten great food before (everything from fried Oreos to food that’s technically called “cuisine”). So I think I can consider myself an authority when I say that being fit is not worth that cheeseburger. Note that the key here is being “fit” and not “skinny”–it’s a matter of feeling good physically, rather than emotional enjoyment. Culinary hedonism is fine and all, but I’m much happier with myself when I’m fitter, whereas, I can count the number of meals I specifically remember as “amazingly delicious” using two hands and a love handle. I spend more time in the day not eating than I do eating…so why am I letting that minority determine how I’ll feel during the majority of my time? Doesn’t make sense.
And I don’t mean to sound like I’m a morbidly obese woman who’s growing into her couch because I haven’t moved in three months and have only survived because I trained the dog to answer the door when the delivery boy arrives–though she DOES always forget to tip 20% even though I remind her. I’m just saying that I FEEL better when I weigh less, which I think is a safe bet to assume most people would say (regardless of how happy you are with your current size).
So back to running. And over with the “this one meal won’t matter” attitude I normally take with food. My fat ass is done with that.
Now, please excuse me while I go play with my freestyle. Which, incidentally…anyone know of decent freeware that I can use to mix my kur music? I need to be able to splice parts of songs together into one track.