Good thing Kayla doesn't read this yet. She would not be happy about my little excursion this morning. But I'm still not sure that I am even happy about my little excursion this morning. My lower extremities hurt like I just birthed a third child and I can barely type because my palms are bruised from gripping the saddle knob thing (which I'm sure has a technical name but I'm too lazy to look it up). Whatever it's called, it's FAR too small.
While most of the other horses at Friendly Acres Ranch walked, paused to eat, waited patiently and followed instructions, my horse, Suerte was straight rogue. And bff's with the only other rogue horse of the bunch. It's no coincidence his name means luck in Spanish. You need ALOT of it when you ride him.
Don't let my smile fool you. I once heard that horses, like dogs, sense fear. Right after this picture was taken, his brisk trot quickly escalated into a full sprint. And he ignored my multiple reign pulling requests to slow down. At which point, I closed my eyes, began to acquire my palm bruises and pretended to be riding in a convertible. But screamed like I was on a roller coaster. The horse whisperer looked at me in disgust. The things I do for you, Kim. And your birthday.