Saying goodbye: lessons in riding and life

Buddy and Carolyn at one of the Hardee Lane Farms schooling shows a few years ago.

Today we said goodbye to our friend Buddy, known on horse show judging sheets as “Simpatico.”

We called him our equine golden retriever, a sweet and patient friend who nickered as we neared his stall, quite possibly because that usually meant carrots were soon to follow.

Hey, is that a carrot in your pocket?

Don’t cry. He didn’t cross the Rainbow Bridge. But he has gone on to a new home after putting up with us for 10 years of lessons on sweltering southern summer mornings; horse shows and their accompanying jitters (ours, not his); and, more recently, stem cell treatments and boring walk-the-arena rehab.

On Sunday morning, he walked sweetly onto a horse trailer bound for the Great Oak Therapeutic Riding Center in Aiken, S.C. It is quite possibly the job he was born for.

I remember the first day he arrived at Hardee Lane Farms. Our trainer, Shary Groat, had found him during a visit to a barn in Georgia. He was only 7, still “green” by horse industry standards, and not a presumptive mount for a woman learning to ride at 50-something and still coming to grips with the fact that never would anyone describe her as “fearless.”

Glenn Singleton, owner of the barn and a man with plenty of experience evaluating horse temperaments good and bad, said of Buddy, “That horse has the kindest eye.”

Indeed he does. He is also a great teacher. Here are just a few things Buddy, (along with his equally kind predecessors P-Nut and Deszi) taught me, all of which apply to riding and to life.

I’m never going to be National Velvet. And that’s OK. Before really taking up riding in my late 40s, my experience had mostly been of the daydream variety in which I leapt upon the nearest stallion bareback and galloped across hill and dale, jumping anything that got in my path.

The non-daydream sessions involved a lot of lessons listening to the ever-patient Shary remind me to get my heels down, my head up and my shoulders back. Realizing that I wasn’t a natural rider was a painful lesson. But I stuck with it, Shary at my side, because just being around the barn, the horses and the people was reward enough for me. I will be forever grateful for those experiences, even though my heels are still not down consistently and I still can’t sit a canter gracefully. (Sorry Shary.)

Giving up an unrealistic daydream for a different, but better benefit is a win, no matter the circumstances.

Recognizing the importance of breathing. I know, I know. There are a gazillion articles online about calming your inner monkey (or whatever) by breathing slowly and deeply through your core. I’d even tried it a few times. But I’d never felt the true benefit until I listened to Shary reminding me to breathe as I trotted around the arena like a discombobulated stick figure.

Slow and deep inhale, slow exhale … aaaahhh. I relaxed, Buddy relaxed, and while I have no memory of whether we got a ribbon, I did get one of those ah-hah moments I’d heard so much about. Or should I say aaaaahhhh-haaaahhhh.

Best of all, it works whether you’re riding, driving or sitting in front of your computer trying come up with words that do your subject justice.

Trust your trainer. We were incredibly lucky to stumble on, almost literally, an amazing trainer. We didn’t know what we didn’t know, as they say. Tom, knowing I wanted to take lessons, stopped at a nearby barn one day when he saw folks working in an arena. The trainer turned out to be Shary, a woman known far and wide for her skills. And while she knew we were never going to be students she could take to national A-level shows, she treated us to the same care and feeding as those who did go to those kinds of shows.

Shary give me an “attagirl” after a successful early show on her sweet horse Cowboy.

How does that apply if you’re not taking riding lessons? When you find someone who knows more than you about something you desire to learn, and treats you with respect and patience, cherish them.

Cherish those who support you. I keep using “we” to refer to these experiences, and I bet you think I’m using that editorial “we” tense covered in English 101. No, I’m referring to my husband Tom, who not only found a barn and trainer for me, but bought my first horse for me as a 50th birthday present, and then began taking lessons too.

Tom competes on Buddy at a show in 2009.

I did go through a rough spell when he began riding better than I could almost immediately. Remember the part about me never being described as fearless? That’s the word for Tom. And I was jealous. But I quickly realized that the advantage of having a spouse who shares your passion means he/she won’t question the amount of time you spend at said passion, or the amount of money.

Family matters, especially your barn family. We changed barns a few years into our riding experience, and are thankful on many levels. At Hardee Lane, we never worried about whether our horses were getting good care. What’s more, the other boarders and riding students have been shining examples of friendship, support, humor, horse[wo]manship and generosity.

Barns can be insular communities, sort of like junior high school lunch rooms, where petty rivalries and backbiting are the order of the day. The same can be said for other extra-curricular gathering spots such as golf clubs and health clubs. Make sure the one you pick offers more than just a membership in exchange for your hefty monthly fees. It’s not possible to put a price on a sense of community, but that’s what makes all the difference.

Our barn is friendly to all animals, four-legged or two-legged. It has been a joy to watch the girls grow up to be smart, funny, determined and confident teens.

Know when it’s time to go. I thought that once I retired, I’d ride every day, and I did for a while because Buddy needed 30 minutes of rehab exercise 5 days a week. But once we made it through that and Buddy was sound again, we began to do a lot of traveling. We just weren’t getting to the barn enough to ride and it just wasn’t fair for such a sweet gentleman to be without a job.

We’d known for some time that he needed a new home, but our efforts were half-hearted. It’s hard to give up something that you love, even when you know in your heart it’s the right thing to do. It’s important to listen to that voice, whether you’re giving up horses or any long-held passion — or even person.

When we heard the revamped therapeutic center in Aiken needed mounts for their students, we knew it would be perfect for Buddy. There had been a therapeutic program at Hardee Lane when we first moved there and we’d loved watching the students of all ages gain confidence in themselves by spending an hour a week in the saddle. Their transformations were magical.

Buddy now has a chance to make magic and we know he will. Thank you sweet boy for all the joy you gave us, and all the joy you have yet to give. We’ll be up to visit soon.

As you can see, Buddy is already in love with Jennifer Flanagan, executive director of Great Oak Therapeutic Riding Center.

Tom Murray and Carolyn Callison Murray are retired journalists who now live in South Carolina and own Show and Tell Media Pros, a writing, editing, photography and media consulting firm.

Carolyn Callison Murray

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Recovering journalist exploring life outside my comfort zone.

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