I just finished walking my treadmill. My son is acting as my coach, making me walk when I don't really want to. I purchased the treadmill a number of years ago and actually lost a good amount of weight over several months. I built my endurance up to where I was actually walking six miles every day. Then I got carried away and pushed myself too hard and got hurt. Since then I have had this irrational fear about using it. I begin, but within a week or so I've quit. This time my son assures me he will not let me quit. He is exercising alongside, doing pushups and stuff.
Anyway, while walking I suddenly remembered a time, about twenty years ago, when I was in training for a long trip by horseback.
Spouse and I each had a horse which we kept at Spouse's brother's farm. Brother's wife had grown up around horses and knew how to train them. She taught us how to ride. We would ride three miles to the Luce Line, an abandoned railroad line now used for hiking, biking, snowmobiles - and horses. We would ride a couple of miles along the trail and then go back. On weekends, we might go as far as Watertown and back. That was almost a twenty mile ride.
I was curious about the trail and found myself fascinated with the thought that the trail just went on and on to the South Dakota border. I've never been much on traveling, but I wanted to ride my horse away along the trail. It seemed magical.
Eventually, I wrote to the Department of Natural Resources and got maps of all the horse trails in Minnesota. There were a lot of them. The Luce Line was one of the longer trails. I talked with my sister-in-law and determined the most reasonable distance I could ride in one day - if both my horse and I were in shape. The conclusion: fifty miles. But we would have to push it, and be in good shape.
Well, neither of us really were. My horse was in better shape than I, but she was a two-year-old who had never been worked too hard. She was also half quarter horse and half Percheron. Yes, I know what you're probably thinking: what an ugly thing. I guess she was. A lot of people made fun of her, but I liked her. And she did pretty much whatever I asked. My sister-in-law said people didn't usually train draft horses to do anything but pull wagons and/or farm equipment. So I made up my mind that Liebschen (it means sweetheart) would do all the things the other horses did. Eventually, I was able to ride her without saddle or bridle. She came when I called and stayed where I told her to stand.
I also wanted her to pull a cart in the summer and a sled in the winter. This meant training her to work under harness, and that is what I was remembering tonight on the treadmill.
I wanted to make this fifty mile trip to Winstead (twenty-five out, twenty-five back). And neither of us was in shape to make the trip. I also wanted Liebschen to work under harness. So what I did was go to an auction and get a cheap harness. I would put it on Liebschen and then take her down the road (dirt roads) - me running behind holding onto the long reins. In this way she would get used to the harness and we both would get exercise.
At the start I was only able to make it a quarter of a mile. But every day I would try to go at least ten paces beyond the previous day's effort. After a few weeks we were able to run two miles out, take a five minute break, and then run two miles back. What I remembered took place at the resting place.
The place we rested was in front of one of those million dollar horse farms. The owner was very well to do and very snobbish. I had seen him in town (population 2,200), but he never even said "Hello". Not that I minded, but I think he passed some of that arrogance on to his grandson, who was out riding in a golf cart with his sisters/cousins/whatever.
The resting place was at the top of a hill and I saw the golf cart darting about the farm. The three children saw me, too, and as I neared the hill top they drove out to investigate. The two girls were very interested in the horse and what I was doing. The boy was not. He had been having fun on the golf cart and didn't appreciate stopping for some fool - me. While the girls asked question after question, I could see his impatience growing. Finally, his patience came to an end and he voiced his disdain for me and my efforts with a simple piece of advice:
"You know, if that were my horse, I think I would ride it."
When he said that the girls took a totally new attitude toward me and my horse. They all began laughing at me and drove away. I turned to Liebschen and told her to get going. We had two more miles to run and it was getting dark.
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