The blue Montana sky winked down at me. I just laid there in the grass. Nothing hurt. I was fine. This wasn’t my first time being dismissed off a horse. But this one was short and she was a little green.  We had just been sitting watching the steers go by us and I had just praised her being so good. My feet dangling in the sage brush when that back cinch dropped. She spooked and shot off like a bullet coming out of a gun. I couldn’t slow her down. For a small hose she had speed. My dad hollered from some where in the distance telling me to bail off. So I did. And here I was.

The problem with being out in the middle of no where is that I had only two choices on how I was getting back to the pick up and horse trailer. One was walking while leading said horse and two was getting back on said horse. Oh yeah, dad caught her. I believe he was riding a green colt at the time, so that made an interesting catch. Caught her he did, and took off the offending cinch. I believe his words to me were some where along the line of get on her she’s fine.
I did. We walked through the sage brush back to the trailer. She did fine. I was fine. Nothing a couple of miles wouldn’t fix.

(If you are wondering, my dad had that cinch slung across the front of his saddle and his horse did not like it, my dad is more of hand then I will ever be and took that as the time to teach his horse that adapting was his best course of action. )

Stick.

I looked in the rear view mirror. I could see the goose neck hitch and cranked my neck. I had to use my mirrors. I pulled forward and backed up. I was two inches to the left.  I pulled forward.  Now with enough knowledge and practice, backing up any thing is a breeze. I can parallel park, but a ball and hitch seemed to be my nemesis. I pulled forward. I backed up. Nope still off. I looked off in the distance. I blew out a breath.  I had to think. This wasn’t that hard. I had to get it done. What if my sister and dad weren’t out there doing their part, what if I had to get the trailer on my own, I would have to get it done. I just had to get it close enough to have the hitch fall on it. The problem with trying to get it perfect was interfering with my brain to just get it done. I backed up and looked. I was right over the ball. I began to lower the trailer while giving myself a high five.  To this day, I still give myself a high five for hooking up the trailer without it taking more then three tries.

Stick.

Life has a way of coming at me and testing me. Every once in awhile I have that mental break down and I think I can’t do it. Not one more rep. Not one more step. I don’t live there. I remember that my ability to stick is 100% so far and I re-train my brain. I tell my monkey brain to shut the fuck up and maybe I just need water, food, or a nap. Or I need to call my best friend and tell her I am having a day.

Giving up is not the option. Seeing a different route or pulling forward and backing up works just as well.

Stick.