Woe is me n’ shit!
Does the frustration EVER end in the horse world? Especially for my peoples, the middle aged and aging female population?
Please allow me a moment to talk about myself. Well sort of talk about myself. In fact I’m speaking about so many of us as we share so many of the same struggles.
When I was a young person I wanted to be a horse trainer. It was my dream job. In fact, at one point I applied for a job as an assistant trainer with an Arabian show barn. A barn full of gorgeous Polish Arabs who showed extensively around the country. I would have gotten to travel with them and ride and show them. Using the skill set I had amassed at that point, I won against the other applicants. I was so happy! Dreams coming true, right? WRONG. So I started working. My pay was crap. Not just crap, but crap crap. It wouldn’t even pay the rent. Plus it was in a neighboring state that necessitated bridge and road tolls. The drive time was about an hour.
I simply could not afford to work there. I had to quit.
My Dad insisted I get a job with a pension. I applied for a few jobs, one being with a very large police force. I could have retired in 20 years. I would have been 45 at retirement. But nooooo my husband at that time didn’t want me to do it thinking it too dangerous. I again acquiesced to outside forces and got a job working for the State. A 30 year type of job with great benefits, meh pay and a pension. I was a Peace Officer with the Courts and it was to that end that on September 11, 2001 I answered the “All hands” call in lower Manhattan, where I worked. I ended up working on and around The Pile for ten days.
That job I took for the benefits and meh pay ended up affecting me physically, emotionally and mentally. It tried to break me in several ways, not of my making. I ended up with 9/11 lung cancer, Stage 2B. They took out half my left lung and put me on the strongest chemo they could. It worked. I managed to be cured. Though the meds affected me for a long time with peripheral neuropathy in my fingers and toes, and the prednisone put me into PCOS(Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome) and insulin resistance, something I wouldn’t learn for another 5 years. I ate nothing, gained weight. I always hated food, usually ate once a day. I had also ended up taking Prednisone when they removed my ovaries due to a giant ovarian cyst and once more a year later when one of my calves turned pink with cellulitis from an unknown source.
So there I was one day, in my 50s and 326 mighty pounds of prednisone weight and regret. 326 frigging pounds. And not from eating.
Then I heard about this PCOS crap which seemed to fit me. It also fit in that despite 6, 7, 8 IVF treatments (I forget) I was unable to hold on to a baby. (Think more prednisone). I then went to a doctor who did the testing that figured all this stuff out. I had Prednisone induced Metabolic Syndrome, PCOS and insulin resistance. I was not, and am not, a diabetic. The doctor added metformin and long story short, 80 lbs are now gone. But I’m still heavy and the weight is in my belly. Weight that severely affects my balance in the saddle, pulling me forward and making me think I have to lean way back. Which I don’t, because it looks stupid.
I had stopped riding once I hit 250 lbs even though my horse is massive at a hair below 17 hands and 1600 lbs. I wanted to keep him around as long as possible, as healthy as possible and I felt that all my weight concentrated on what once was a custom saddle but now was more like a leather tampon that completely would disappear under my body once I sat in it, would hurt his back. I paid my trainer to ride and I would watch, occasionally coaching from the rail.
Now down 80 pounds, I started to ride again. Ordered me a custom western saddle so I could do some westerny stuff and trail riding again with whatever weight I still had more spread out over his back. Of course there will be more weight loss. As God is my witness there must be more weight loss as I need the old me back.
So here I am starting again, just like many of you. Fighting obstacles and opposition. Sometimes it seems I have lost everything. While your average adult schlep could just jump on a trail horse and go for a ride, I cannot. The changes to my body due to weight gain forbid it. I now must battle against my body instead of battling for it.
In the past I have always emphasized training and learning over showing. I knew I would retire early and then would have the time and the energy to show and do it right. I studied with the best. I did my job to prepare well. I was prepared to fight everything. I wanted to know as much as possible. I wanted to learn it all.
I was not prepared to fight my body this hard, for this long. That same body that had never let me down in the past. The body that beat cancer. The body that always could do man work. The body that was bulletproof. Or so it felt. I used to do such physical extremes my friend swore I had a death wish. I never did, of course. I just knew I had a weirdly strong, flexible, tough body that never let me down.
(Except in making babies, which I could not do, this body never let me down. At least now I know this too was because of PCOS.)
Thirty one years after starting a job I did not like, often with people who seemed bent on my ruination, I retired. I was 59 when I retired so I thought that with my pension, I could now finally pursue my dream job and show and ride my fabulous horse.
I had bought this nice new shiny show horse and began the training and accreditation needed to transition from a relatively unknown Adult Amateur to equine professional. I’ve accomplished a great deal of the mental part but now, my body isn’t so up to the challenge. Now, I am no longer superhuman. I have to say, this new realization pretty much sucks.
As we riders age, and we are all aging, we have our battles. But I figure that for me, giving up isn’t an option. This is supposed to be my time, my turn, my chance. I’m not giving up on my chance. I refuse to give up. Even if it kills me.
The question is for us all how shall we answer that challenge? For me, the answer is to fight for it.
The catch is that fighting for it hurts. A lot. I feel like I’m in constant pain. It won’t be forever.
To lose weight I took to the water. I’m a member of both a Jewish Community Center with indoor and outdoor pools, as well as L.A. Fitness as a just in case. For exercise I prefer to go into 6 ft of pool water with my headset and I tread water for 2 hours. Sometimes I tread to an audio book, sometimes music. Treading water burns a bunch of calories and water resistance is good for muscle being actively consumed by metformin. This, even though at my weight I’m my own flotation device.
There are other ways to win the struggle too. My wonderful trainers built me a fake horse out of wood so I can stretch my affected muscles on it. My iliopsoas are trashed from the weight gain weighting my pelvis to tip forward. My back aches from the readjustment. As I lose weight, things want to adjust back. My walking is limited. I need help swinging my leg over the saddle mounting and dismounting. And if I ride too long, someone has to physically lift my right leg up and over the cantle. My getting on and off my horse requires a team at this time. Yes, that’s right. A TEAM. And a 4 step mounting block on a palette. At times it is terrifying if I stop to think what would happen were I bucked off a 17 hand, 1600 pound horse.
So now I’m using some of that 3+ decade acquired government health insurance to go to physical therapy. It is helping very much, though I’m not there yet.
Quick, someone call me a wahmbulance!!
The point of this post is not to whine or do the woe is me bit. With enough work, I’ll get there. You too can get there from within your own struggles.
Let’s not dwell on where we are today. Let’s look at our own possibilities. Let’s make it happen. Let’s win, even if it’s a matter of winning against ourselves.
No way, no how did I wait 3+ decades to have my chance, my dream, my sacrifices die away from some boo boos. Failure is not an option. I will persevere. We all have our challenges. What are yours and how will you defeat them? How will you live your horsey dream and your best horsey life?
I’d love to read about all your challenges and your plans to overcome them. We are all blessed to be able to go and play horsey. Maybe reading each other’s struggles will give hope where it is needed and when it is needed. Let’s encourage each other’s journey for all our fellow equestrians of all ages, especially the silvery maned ones.
Let me know.
