Personal Narrative Essay: Why I Ride

Why I Ride Since I was four years old my most prominent memory has been of horses. I remember my first encounter with a horse, I instantaneously developed a deep fascination with the animal. I devoted my life to horses. My thoughts were entwined with anything horse related. I used horse terminology as a way to critically think and solve arithmetics in school. Twelve years later my infatuation with the animal proved true when I was asked by the University of Virginia Riding Team to join them as a sophomore in highschool. Horses were my escape from life at home as drugs or alcohol are to a depressed teenager trying to escape from reality. The barn was my sanctuary and the other riders were my family. Though my purpose for going to the barn …show more content…
She had been a show pony for years and presented me with invaluable life tools and riding skills that conformed me to evolve into a better rider. Horse shows started to become a lifestyle for me. The colossal covered arenas became my living room. Concessions stands turned into my home made meals, rolling cross country fields became my front yard. My life lessons and experiences were taught through my own rounds and watching others and learning from their mistakes. Our horses were versions of ourselves that we worked with to better them in order to succeed in the show ring. Our horses were a direct product from ourselves, their behaviors mirrored our true thoughts and feelings and explained ourselves better than we could. By manipulating our riding to communicate to the horse, what we want them to do in the ring we start to think in a new …show more content…
I started to gain a larger respect for the art itself and the commitment and dedication to be able to build a team with a horse. I grew apart from my barn; but I still kept the family I made by riding there. I slowly started to distance myself from the show atmosphere at the barn and started to go to a small family barn instead. The barn was nestled in the Blue Ridge foothills in Sedalia, Virginia. I grew an admiration for the towering appalachian mountains that acted as my ring borders instead of pieces of stained oak. By making the change to the isolated barn I also changed the type of horses I rode also. I went from riding grand prix hunter derby horses and medal winning ponies to rescue “project” horses. I was hit by many epiphanies while adapting to the new barn life. I was less fond of the “made” picture perfect show horses and had a larger admiration for the horses that were rougher around the edges. There was something about their uneven manes, sunbleached tails, and hoarse neighs that beckoned me to take an interest in