And Bingo was his name-o...
Aug. 31st, 2008 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatI always wanted to go horseback-riding in Prospect Park, ever since I first saw people doing it way back in 2003. I remember thinking - oh, cool! But alas, didn't have the time or the money back then. Costs quite a bit to do it by yourself. So, when one of the meetup groups I joined offered an hour horse-back riding trip in Prospect Park for $30 ($7 off the regular rate) - I decided to do it. Be a cool way to meet new people and try something I'd always wanted to do. Sure I'd be a little sore, but it was for just an hour - that's nothing. And I'd ridden before, granted over 20 years ago, but how hard could it be?
This Saturday morning, bright and early - well about 9:45 am or thereabouts, I pulled myself together and went horseback riding with the fit and fun meetup group in Prospect Park via Kensington Stables. Was cloudy to start, but the sun came out eventually.
The guides, I was told, specifically selected the horses to fit the size and personality of the riders. Reassuring...except for the fact that they don't know us. They asked each of us if we had any experience. I said, repeatedly, yes but it was more than 20 years ago, as in maybe 25. Around 1981 or 1982, during one of the hottest summers in Kansas City record, my parents let my brother and I take horseback-riding lessons. We'd been pestering them for months to buy us a horse - for two reasons, 1) all our friends in Pennsylvania where we'd lived previously had them, and 2)after a trip to a ranch in the Rocky Mountains -where we'd gone horse-back riding. We'd gone on a couple of long rides - one up the side of a mountain to a pristine lake. Except for my father - who refused to get on a horse "ever" again after the first five hour ride we took. My mother was a tad more sporting. Afterwards, we'd become obsessed with riding. Wise move to pick the hottest summer on record, we both lost interest rather quickly after that. Anyhow, the last time I remember riding a horse was sometime in 1982 or 1983, when I was in junior high and quite a bit lighter, not to mention in much better shape physically than I am now. They split us up into two sections - those with experience, even if it was over ten years ago, and those without any whatesover. In retrospect, I sort of wish I'd lied and said I'd never been on a horse before. Considering how little I remembered - that would have worked.
So the time came to choose the horses. We were told to make sure we remembered our horse's names. "Yeah," I said, "considering I've forgotten everyone's in the group, that shouldn't be too hard." Around the circle they went (there were nine of us) - "Stardust", "Invisible" (which resulted in much laughter) and mine? "Bingo". Easy name. Samuel, Emma, and Katie would have been harder. Bingo I could remember.
The organizer of our little trip, winced, "Your's is named Bingo?"
"Yep, Bingo is his name...why?"
"Oh, nothing...just I think that was the horse I had last round which I told you was acting up..."
Oh great, I thought. This should be fun.
First came the mount. "Bring the mounting step!" the person assisting me yelled. "Or," I muttered, looking at the horse, "we could just try the old fashioned way..." which ironically had been how I'd done it when I was shorter.
Then came the ride...
Interesting experience riding a horse in a city - granted most of the ride was in the Park, but we had to walk down a street, cross a street, cross an intersection, and go down another street, plus a few streets in the park itself - it is after all a city with a park in the middle of it.
Never crossed a busy street on a horse before, it's sort of cool and kinda of scary at the same time, particularly when you've no clue what you are doing. They kept telling me to relax. Funny thing about being told to relax, your body decides that if it is being told to relax, then obviously it should do the exact opposite - because there must be a reason it's being told to relax and it doesn't quite trust the source of that information - after all experience has taught it to be a bit skeptical. They also, for the first fifteen minutes - kept telling me that I was holding the reigns wrong - "no, no, you grip them, what you are doing is carriage style, no no you point your toes up not down, no, you shorten the reigns but keep some slack, sit up straight, don't rest on the saddle....haven't you ridden before?" "Yes, over 25 years ago!" "Because you are doing everything the opposite way of how you should be doing it..." "Okay, well apparently I've chosen to forget everything I learned over twenty-five years ago...may have been longer, not really into counting the years at the moment, let's just say if the memory is foggy, it was a lonnng time ago." (I've since been informed by my mother, who remembers these things better than I do, that it was in 1981 or 1982, when I was around the age of 14.)
The park itself is quite lovely, if you've never been. Prospect Park was designed by the same guy who did Central Park, except they went for a wilder more natural look, with much less landscaping. As a result, there are more trees, a bigger lake, and a sense of wilderness admist the picnic benches, ball fields, lagoons, and bike paths. On horseback it is amazing, that is if you aren't busy trying to control the snarly brute carrying you, whose decided to eat the shrubbery or take a jog at the oddest moment. For some reason I remember it being easier than this.
Oh and did I mention...OW. I mean really, OWWWWW! That saddle hurt from the moment I was hoisted into it. I kept trying adjust my rear-end in such a way that it did not feel like I was bouncing on a concret stump. The gal in front of me - clearly knew what she was doing. Made sense, she'd almost gone to the Olympics and had ridden her entire life. Even herded cattle in Colorado. Currently worked as a Trader on Wall Street and owned a $10,000 ancient designer saddle with a funky French name. Unlikely she'd be using that any time soon, unless of course it was on a stallion that was a bit more expensive, or one would hope considering its a live animal and that's just a saddle. Her horse was appropriately named "Charm".
Half way through - I remember thinking, okay, I thought this was only supposed to take an hour? It's almost twelve and we started at 10:15. Which was about the time they steered us back home and Bingo decided to stop at the little island between the two cross streets, with the other horses at least two horselengths away from him, to take a prolonged piss. I tried to get him moving, because it was first a dump and they can walk and take a dump at the same time, Charm certainly did. But Bingo apparently felt he should stand still and do both. Can't say I blamed him. I wouldn't particularly want to walk, poop and piss at the same time either.
Back at the stables, they told us not to dismount on our own - to wait and be assisted. So, I thought, okay, cool, here comes the little dismount block.
A voice:" You can get off now."
I look down and see a woman holding Bingo's lead. "What?"
"Please dismount so I can bring the horse back inside."
Me:"Uh, now?"
"Yes now."
I sit up, pull my foot out of my stirrup, pull the other one out, swing up and out, every part of my body aching - from my shoulders down to my feet - from attempting to stay pointed up as opposed to down. Worse part, my rear-end, particularly the area around the groin feels badly bruised.
I looked at Bingo and the lady leading him off. And muttered, "I think Bingo and I are happily parting ways."
Now, I understand why my parents weren't that interested in doing horseback riding trip. It all makes sense now. Still ache from that ride, and it's more the 24 hours later, with ice on my groin. Used to harbor fantasies of taking a horse-back riding trip around Tuscany, now I'm thinking, you know, maybe a walking or biking trip would be a better bet...much less pain involved, not to mention cheaper.
This Saturday morning, bright and early - well about 9:45 am or thereabouts, I pulled myself together and went horseback riding with the fit and fun meetup group in Prospect Park via Kensington Stables. Was cloudy to start, but the sun came out eventually.
The guides, I was told, specifically selected the horses to fit the size and personality of the riders. Reassuring...except for the fact that they don't know us. They asked each of us if we had any experience. I said, repeatedly, yes but it was more than 20 years ago, as in maybe 25. Around 1981 or 1982, during one of the hottest summers in Kansas City record, my parents let my brother and I take horseback-riding lessons. We'd been pestering them for months to buy us a horse - for two reasons, 1) all our friends in Pennsylvania where we'd lived previously had them, and 2)after a trip to a ranch in the Rocky Mountains -where we'd gone horse-back riding. We'd gone on a couple of long rides - one up the side of a mountain to a pristine lake. Except for my father - who refused to get on a horse "ever" again after the first five hour ride we took. My mother was a tad more sporting. Afterwards, we'd become obsessed with riding. Wise move to pick the hottest summer on record, we both lost interest rather quickly after that. Anyhow, the last time I remember riding a horse was sometime in 1982 or 1983, when I was in junior high and quite a bit lighter, not to mention in much better shape physically than I am now. They split us up into two sections - those with experience, even if it was over ten years ago, and those without any whatesover. In retrospect, I sort of wish I'd lied and said I'd never been on a horse before. Considering how little I remembered - that would have worked.
So the time came to choose the horses. We were told to make sure we remembered our horse's names. "Yeah," I said, "considering I've forgotten everyone's in the group, that shouldn't be too hard." Around the circle they went (there were nine of us) - "Stardust", "Invisible" (which resulted in much laughter) and mine? "Bingo". Easy name. Samuel, Emma, and Katie would have been harder. Bingo I could remember.
The organizer of our little trip, winced, "Your's is named Bingo?"
"Yep, Bingo is his name...why?"
"Oh, nothing...just I think that was the horse I had last round which I told you was acting up..."
Oh great, I thought. This should be fun.
First came the mount. "Bring the mounting step!" the person assisting me yelled. "Or," I muttered, looking at the horse, "we could just try the old fashioned way..." which ironically had been how I'd done it when I was shorter.
Then came the ride...
Interesting experience riding a horse in a city - granted most of the ride was in the Park, but we had to walk down a street, cross a street, cross an intersection, and go down another street, plus a few streets in the park itself - it is after all a city with a park in the middle of it.
Never crossed a busy street on a horse before, it's sort of cool and kinda of scary at the same time, particularly when you've no clue what you are doing. They kept telling me to relax. Funny thing about being told to relax, your body decides that if it is being told to relax, then obviously it should do the exact opposite - because there must be a reason it's being told to relax and it doesn't quite trust the source of that information - after all experience has taught it to be a bit skeptical. They also, for the first fifteen minutes - kept telling me that I was holding the reigns wrong - "no, no, you grip them, what you are doing is carriage style, no no you point your toes up not down, no, you shorten the reigns but keep some slack, sit up straight, don't rest on the saddle....haven't you ridden before?" "Yes, over 25 years ago!" "Because you are doing everything the opposite way of how you should be doing it..." "Okay, well apparently I've chosen to forget everything I learned over twenty-five years ago...may have been longer, not really into counting the years at the moment, let's just say if the memory is foggy, it was a lonnng time ago." (I've since been informed by my mother, who remembers these things better than I do, that it was in 1981 or 1982, when I was around the age of 14.)
The park itself is quite lovely, if you've never been. Prospect Park was designed by the same guy who did Central Park, except they went for a wilder more natural look, with much less landscaping. As a result, there are more trees, a bigger lake, and a sense of wilderness admist the picnic benches, ball fields, lagoons, and bike paths. On horseback it is amazing, that is if you aren't busy trying to control the snarly brute carrying you, whose decided to eat the shrubbery or take a jog at the oddest moment. For some reason I remember it being easier than this.
Oh and did I mention...OW. I mean really, OWWWWW! That saddle hurt from the moment I was hoisted into it. I kept trying adjust my rear-end in such a way that it did not feel like I was bouncing on a concret stump. The gal in front of me - clearly knew what she was doing. Made sense, she'd almost gone to the Olympics and had ridden her entire life. Even herded cattle in Colorado. Currently worked as a Trader on Wall Street and owned a $10,000 ancient designer saddle with a funky French name. Unlikely she'd be using that any time soon, unless of course it was on a stallion that was a bit more expensive, or one would hope considering its a live animal and that's just a saddle. Her horse was appropriately named "Charm".
Half way through - I remember thinking, okay, I thought this was only supposed to take an hour? It's almost twelve and we started at 10:15. Which was about the time they steered us back home and Bingo decided to stop at the little island between the two cross streets, with the other horses at least two horselengths away from him, to take a prolonged piss. I tried to get him moving, because it was first a dump and they can walk and take a dump at the same time, Charm certainly did. But Bingo apparently felt he should stand still and do both. Can't say I blamed him. I wouldn't particularly want to walk, poop and piss at the same time either.
Back at the stables, they told us not to dismount on our own - to wait and be assisted. So, I thought, okay, cool, here comes the little dismount block.
A voice:" You can get off now."
I look down and see a woman holding Bingo's lead. "What?"
"Please dismount so I can bring the horse back inside."
Me:"Uh, now?"
"Yes now."
I sit up, pull my foot out of my stirrup, pull the other one out, swing up and out, every part of my body aching - from my shoulders down to my feet - from attempting to stay pointed up as opposed to down. Worse part, my rear-end, particularly the area around the groin feels badly bruised.
I looked at Bingo and the lady leading him off. And muttered, "I think Bingo and I are happily parting ways."
Now, I understand why my parents weren't that interested in doing horseback riding trip. It all makes sense now. Still ache from that ride, and it's more the 24 hours later, with ice on my groin. Used to harbor fantasies of taking a horse-back riding trip around Tuscany, now I'm thinking, you know, maybe a walking or biking trip would be a better bet...much less pain involved, not to mention cheaper.