Why riding is dangerous

I promised to tell the story of my riding accident last week. This is along the same lines as the sports bra post I had a while ago.

Last week I was giving riding lessons on Monday night. I had to give three lessons, starting at 3:30 and ending at about 6:30. It was cold out, so I bundled up in my warmest clothes which included flannel lined jeans. Standing in the middle of the ring telling riders what to do does not make you very warm, so I dressed for the weather.

Now those of you who know me, you know I have had a rough few weeks. Started with a strained back. Then it progressed to a finger infection that spread up my arm and into my lymph nodes and was diagnosed as cellulitis. Then I accidentally kicked a 2000 page book and broke my toe. So I have had  pretty crappy October.

So on Monday while I was waiting for my last lesson to show up, I decided to get up on the horse. This is my horse, Willy, so I know and trust him. It felt so good to be back on the horse after my weeks off. Even though there was a kids’ saddle on, I just let my legs hang down his  sides. Well, my next student showed up and while she went to get a bigger saddle, I went to dismount off Willy. At the same time I remembered that my iphone was in the front pocket of my jacket. So as my body is sliding down the side of Willy, I leaned over so I wouldn’t squash my phone. Well, on kids’ saddles we use safetly stirrups. They are a “C” shape and in the open part we use an elastic band for a quick release if the child needs it. So picture the stirrup as almost like a hook.

And didn’t that damn stirrup hook itself into the crotch of my jeans. As I am dangling there, I realized I had to do something so I flung myself backward and landed on the ground with a thud.

I was still laying there as Kim, my friend and barn owner came running over to see if I was OK. Through my laughter I was able to move my leg and she saw my jeans, ripped from the left left about mid-thigh all the way thru my crotch and down to my right knee.

When stirrup meets jeans

So as I lay in the dirt, my jeans ripped open, feeling the cool Autumn breeze gently caressing my bare skin, Willy looked at my and I could tell he was thinking: “What an idiot.” And yes, I did teach my next lesson.