I’d told myself I was going to ride in the sand this spring. Who can we keep our word with if not ourselves?
It’s been darn busy, we’ve got some cool wildies we’re working with at Wild Horse Outreach & Advocacy and there’s always stuff to do on the counseling side too.
We’re quickly running out of spring and I had this one day where I could go. I asked some friends if they wanted to come.
The deal was you needed to bring your own trailer because one Spur and one Lacy about fill mine since I’m still keeping him in front of the divider in the larger space.
And you had to require little to no babysitting because these two Mustangs and I have one favorite speed: Fast. Especially in the sand. They channel their inner Arabian horses.
No takers, not for lack of interest – who doesn’t want to ride the sand dunes? – but lack of schedule alignment.
I got up that morning and checked the weather. Ew. Asked friends again. Checked the weather again. Did some office work on what was supposed to be my day off. Procrastinating much? Oh, checked the weather forecast again.
If it hadn’t been for two of my favorite people insisting I get on with it, supporting the nagging little voice inside my head that was reminding me I had promised myself I’d go, I might have stayed home, worked and been sad.
Instead I packed – so much stuff, omg, but it was a great practice run to get back in the groove for bigger trips with the animals – loaded and went.
Stopped once for snacks and once for fuel. Got over the pass just fine. Got there just as the weather turned ugly.
Saddled in 30mph winds with the occasional heavy sideways rain drop.
Rode off by myself with two hotheads, one of them (Spur, isn’t it always Spur? 
) very, very green.
We had an epic ride. 10mi in 2.5h. Those two can cover country and they love it. Spur handled the drive, sand, water, traffic, people, wind and deer like a pro.
Lacy hates shapes. Always has. Things become increasingly more shape-y in the late afternoon light.
She doesn’t do much but I sure feel like I’m riding a colt when she’s like a coiled spring and her head corkscrews itself into the air.
“Stop being a silly cow!” I grunted, leg-yielding her mind off of the imaginary beasts lurking behind stumps and sagebrush.
We had a fantastic time. I’m so glad we went and so proud of all of us for keeping it together under less than ideal conditions and without someone else to hold our hand.
