"骑马！骑马！"我 repeatedly saying to myself as I stood in front of the horse trainer's station, holding the reins tightly in my hands. Today was my first time riding a horse, and I couldn't wait to take my first steps on the vast open field.
The morning was crisp, the air carrying the faint scent of fresh grass. I had spent the past two weeks meticulously preparing for this moment. My mother had bought me a beautiful young Arabian horse, a gentle giant with a striking coat of chestnut and white. She had spent countless hours grooming the horse, ensuring that every detail was perfect for my first ride.
The training session had been grueling. I had to adjust my saddle, which was unlike any other I had ever ridden. The padded foam padding was soft, but the pressure was significant. I had to learn how to control my balance, how to signal to the horse, and how to dismount properly. Every mistake had been met with a firm lecture from my mother, who was as strict as she could be but also as encouraging as she could manage.
As I stood at the edge of the field, I could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. This was not just a simple ride; it was a step into a world where I would have to trust my life to a horse. My heart pounded in my chest, and my palms turned sweaty. I could feel the tension in my body, every muscle tense and ready to move.
The moment I placed the reins in my hands was the most nerve-wracking part of the day. I had to hold them steady, but my fingers felt like they were going to slip through the grommets. My breath came in short, rapid gasps, and my eyes were filled with an intense mix of excitement and fear.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and took a step forward. The reins felt surprisingly light in my hands, and the horse, who had seemed so intimidating just moments ago, began to respond. Her head moved slightly, her tail flicked, and she gave me a small, reassuring kick. It was as if she could read my nervousness and let me know that she trusted me.
The first few strides were a bit uneven, but as I kept my eyes on the reins, I found a rhythm. The horse moved with a gentle, almost hypnotic flow, and I could feel the freedom of being on a horse for the first time. The wind swept through my hair, and the coolness of the morning air seeped into my skin. I was in a zone, a place where time seemed to stand still.
As the hours passed, I began to understand the connection between the horse and I. She would stop, slow down, and wait for me, her eyes locked onto mine. She would nudge me gently, her voice a soft, low hum. I would nod back, and she would gallop forward, her hooves pounding the ground with a rhythm that was both soothing and exhilarating.
But there were moments when I felt like I was failing. The horse would kick harder, her hooves diving into the ground with a thunderous thud. I would panic, my heart racing, and I would clutch at the reins, trying to regain my composure. My mother was nearby, her presence a constant reminder that I was capable. She would pat my back, her hand warm and reassuring, and I would take a deep breath, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing.
By the end of the day, I had ridden for over an hour, and I felt like I had made a significant connection with the horse. She was not just a horse, but a companion, a guide, a part of me now. I had conquered my fear, had found a new sense of freedom, and had discovered a relationship that would last a lifetime.
As I stood at the end of the field that afternoon, looking back at the trail I had just ridden, I felt a sense of peace I had never experienced before. The horse had shown me the power of trust, the beauty of connection, and the joy of riding. It was a moment that would stay with me forever, a reminder of the possibilities that lay ahead.
And so, with that first ride under my belt, I knew that the world of horseback riding was not just a hobby but a way of life. I had taken my first step into a world where I could be free, where I could trust myself, and where I could experience the pure joy of connection.
