Ask anyone that has done yoga: Flexibility is a learned skill. Some people are naturally more flexible than others (this would be everyone else other than me), but everyone has to do some degree of work to keep improving their flexibility.
And it’s not just physical. Mental flexibility is also an acquired skill. And I’ve found that nothing in my life has taught me that more than endurance.
I’m sitting here this morning under a low-lying level of thick, gray clouds — literally and figuratively. Monsoon season is upon us in Arizona, and we’re being taunted by those clouds and their accompanying thick, oppressive humidity into thinking rain might be on the horizon if we’re lucky. However, even if it were the brightest, sunniest day ever, I have to admit, I’d still be sitting under a pile of gray storm clouds hovering over my head.
Because according to my Life Plan, this weekend was supposed to be very different than what is actually happening. Life Plan dictated that, at this moment, I should have been standing around with my cup of coffee, inhaling silty red dust, braiding manes, packing crew boxes, and trying to remember how to breathe at 7200′ elevation.
This was going to be it. My year. My one and only shot at that silver buckle with Mimi. Our chance to defy those odds stacked against us; to pit ourselves against the wilderness and the clock; to experience all the tension, nerves, excitement, and worry as participants, not just as crew members on the sidelines.
That obviously didn’t happen.
Circumstances (school, work) even conspired against me this year to keep me from going up and crewing and enjoying the chaos in that fashion. I’ll be following things vicariously this year, via the webcast. The good: I’ll be making money instead of spending it. There’s my silver lining.
But I will admit: I’m sulking. This has been something I’ve wanted so bad, for so long…it’s been very tough to let go of this particular dream. I know that I’ll find my Tevis horse…someday. And get to the Ride…eventually. But my heart knows it’ll never be the same. Even when my mind knows that putting it on the shelf is the right decision, my heart has yet to be fully convinced. Such is the way of optimists and dreamers, I suppose.
I haven’t even ridden in six weeks: A bad combination of icky weather and pony antics. Both ponies are currently mooching their position on the Equine Disability List for all its worth. It started about a month and half ago, when Beamer got kicked in the shoulder, and flies invaded the tiny little gash on his shoulder. Within a few short days, it had grown to an irritation the size of my palm. Naturally ,this spot is right on the point of his shoulder — an area of constant motion, and an area that’s impossible to keep bandaged and covered.
After several unsuccessful weeks, I started brainstorming. I raided the garage, and the dresser that holds all of my extra tack, for my old show supplies, and one sacrificed Lycra mane tamer later…