Fifteen hundred pounds

beneath me.

Jittery, excited father beside me.

Soon it will be just us

My equine partner and I.

“Next up, Debbie Charbonneau”

 

A final pat on his warm, musclebound neck.

“No turning back” I breath in the horses ear –

My energy flows down to his

Well manicured hooves.

 

Room for neither nerves or doubt.

In complete control, I assume the position.

Back straightened, feet secure in stirrups –

Lift reigns, transfer weight forward…

 

Saskatchewan’s bright September day suddenly darkened.

The indoor arena was moist with humidity.

Six striped poles set in a straight line.

Claustrophobia not an option.

My horses powerful legs flexing and stretching

His glorious energy flowed upwards, through me.

My guidance, reassuring to him, was flawless.

 

We weaved through the poles

like a skier would maneuver between moguls.

At the sixth pole Zees planted his hind legs, buried to his knees in mud.

We hustled around that end pole, only half done.

His body was weaving masterfully.

With every lead change my weight shifted  subtly

So as not to be decapitated by the poles we whizzed by.

Rotating around the final pole, emotion set in.

Resting the reigns near the natural arch of his neck,

I encouraged speed but was unable to kick.

My legs were rubber, tears streamed down my face.

“WE DID IT”

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