The Saddle
The Saddle
It’s time to tell you the rest of the story about my new vintage saddle.
Many of you know that a few weeks ago I happened upon a beautiful ‘vintage’ (50+ years old seems a bit young to be vintage!) saddle. It had been stored in a family’s bodega in Tijuana for at least the past 20 years and who knows before that. But it appears to have never actually been used. Supposedly the saddlery where it came from closed its doors in 1974, so that makes it somewhere in the realm of 50+ years old.
But that’s not the story.
The story is this: It came to my attention just a couple weeks before this purchase that the saddle I had been using, the saddle which I had become accustomed to, was actually not at all comfortable for Alegria and was actually restricting her ability to move. Turns out it was doing the same for me.
The thing is, when I learned how to ride about a decade ago I was very, very afraid. But I also really wanted to learn to ride. More so, there was something in me that was, in a sense, leading me to ride. So, I worked to overcome the fear. A lot of that overcoming was ‘time in the saddle’ - getting used to riding, feeling more comfortable, gaining more experience. But it was also very tied to that particular saddle. It had what I call seatbelts - a part that actually goes in front of the hips, that sort of holds you in. I also had very stiff stirrups that also kept my body held in a certain way.
A few years ago I got a new saddle - this one was even more stiff, more secure. In it I could gallop down the beach, one hand on the reins, one hand holding the iPhone while videoing others galloping next to me. People would comment on their amazement that I could do this.
And then in February we hosted a clinic by Kerri Lake. It was the first time I had been able to ride Alegria in such an event - I have attended various horse clinics in the US but can’t take Alegria with me. Kerri, very gently but very clearly pointed out that my saddle was not only uncomfortable for Alegria, but was actually restricting her movement - and mine as well.
Two weeks later I had found the new vintage saddle online and took it home. After a bit of leather conditioning - 50 years is a long time to be sitting around! - I took the new saddle out for a spin.
It was as though I had never ridden a horse.
My body had no idea how to hold itself, without that super stiff, super ‘secure’ saddle. It was like learning how to ride all over again. I felt embarrassed- here I was, supposedly an experienced rider, and it turns out I really had no clue how to hold my body and move in the rhythm with my horse. I have to say - had it not been for the fact that I knew the old saddle was hurting Alegria, I probably would have gone back to it. It would have been easier not to have to change. It would have been easier not to have to relearn. But I couldn’t go back - for Alegrías sake, if not for my own.
And there as well was the fear - that same fear that I had a decade ago when it came to galloping, there it was again, just like it had never left. I was afraid to gallop - what wound hold me in? What wound keep me secure? And I was also afraid to admit that I was afraid - I was supposed to be the expert.
But, this was also not the first time I had dealt with, or overcome, the fear.
So, it happened, that one day while out riding I began to gallop down the beach. Just a little bit at first. Getting the feel. I began to feel how to hold myself. It began to feel less awkward. It actually began to feel ok. I could feel Alegria, feeling me. It was like she was saying, “it’s okay, we’ve got this!”
And so I surrendered. To her. To myself. To the moment. And we galloped down the beach. It was not that the fear had gone away - I was actually terrified. But I realized that instead of putting all of my trust in my saddle, I could actually trust in Alegria and trust in myself.
