Eat Your Veggies

Carrot cake doesn't count

I hate Lima beans. My dad always really liked them, so we had them a lot when I was a kid. But I hated them, the texture, the flavor, the creepy thin skin.  I found it all repulsive.

It became a tug of war between me and my mother trying to get me to eat them.  Eventually I would reluctantly give in. Usually by washing each bean down like a pill. Because, as we all learn as kids, sometimes you must get your vegetables out of the way before you can have your dessert.

This year, 2024, has started off like one giant Lima bean. Not just for me, I’ve noticed, but for a lot of us. Friends have broken relationships, left spouses, lost parents, and more and we’re still in the first quarter.

This is my loathsome legume story.

On January 13th, I had yet another riding accident. 

I had been rushing to get to the barn, running a little late for my lesson. Usually, this is not a problem except everything seemed to be running uncharacteristically on time that day.

I needed to ride my horse out to the arena to meet my trainer, but I also needed my water bottle: a big giant metal thing that requires a hand to hold it. A hand that I’d prefer to have on the reins. Some days I don't feel comfortable only having one hand on the reins. This was one of those days. So, I decided to forego the metal water bottle and grabbed a plastic water bottle that fit nicely into the thigh pocket of my riding tights.

I was on Ty, my big black Friesian and when I got to the arena, I joined my instructor.  She was on Ty’s Dutch cousin – the horse he came over from the Netherlands with - called Wesley, and we rode around the arena warming up for my lesson.  Before we started the lesson, my trainer dismounted to grab something from her bag. I followed her, still mounted, and while waiting pulled the water bottle from my thigh pocket to take a sip.

Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.

I could tell by the look on my trainer’s face that she was seeing something I wasn't seeing yet. I reached out to hand her the bottle, more crinkling, and Ty shied away from the sound of the water bottle. It didn’t register with me yet what the problem was.  I grabbed his reins with both hands, bottle still in my left hand, now being squeezed tighter. Maximum crinkling. Ty then turned and ran as fast as he could trying to get away from whatever monster was making that terrible sound behind his head.  Meanwhile I was hanging on as tightly as I could to the reins and the bottle, not yet realizing that I was only making it worse.

Flying down the arena I faintly heard the word, “Bottle!” being yelled at me from behind. Finally, the lightbulb turned on and I understood. I threw the water bottle away and got a hold of both reins though they were a bit too loose. We were running at what felt like top speed and I saw the fence line getting closer. 

Until that moment, I’d been acting out of instinct and reflex. And then my brain popped in and decided to register a lot of fear of what could happen.

My poor trainer watched in horror as I kicked my feet out of the stirrups. She tried to yell no but it was too late. I bailed off, hit the ground hard and rolled, breaking a lot of things in the process.

While I had been handling everything fine up to that point, that one minute of overthinking caused me to bail off my speeding horse for fear of what could happen when we reached the fence.

It was the dumbest thing I could ever do.

Everyone else watching from the sides of the arena, was thinking I was doing well in the situation. From their perspective I looked calm and balanced. Once I ditched the bottle, they saw a slowing in Ty’s run. But I did not feel that while I was sitting on him. And my mind was frantic as I anticipated a potential disaster.

And there was a disaster.  But of my own making.

I spent ten days in the hospital, four days in a rehab facility, and a couple weeks later had to have surgery to add yet more plates and screws to my right arm.  I will be starting some rehab for a minor back fracture and will just have to avoid coughing, sneezing, laughing, and generally breathing for a few months as I wait for seven broken ribs to stop torturing me.

And yes, it sucks. It sucks even more than Lima beans. But there’s nothing quite like lying on your back unable to do much as an opportunity for a bit of deep reflection.

First off, never bail off your perfectly good horse. It's stupid and it hurts.

Second, I was nervous about cantering on Ty.  Now I’m looking forward to it as it will seem slow by comparison.

Finally, and arguably most importantly, I saw that when I was just trusting myself to reflexively know what to do, everything was fine. I had no problem regaining the reins, I had no problems with my riding and in fact showed some skill. I was easily coping with everything in the moment. It wasn’t until I mentally stepped out of the moment and let fear take me that I stopped trusting myself and allowed panic to win.

Seems like I learn things the hard way.  And this has been harder than most. But this nasty helping of Lima beans has taught me:  Never make a decision based on fear!

Now, where is my dessert?