And lo, because you can never push a theme too far, I did ride not just one, but two pale horses yesterday, and behold, today I do feel like Death warmed over, but verily in a good way.
On the short morning ride with just my sister and myself, I rode my old friend M, who was feeling particularly full of oats and up for anything. All went well. The wildlife in the Wombat Forest was abundant, with butterflies everywhere, rabbits popping out and scampering off underfoot at inopportune moments, and little flocks of colourful parrots constantly erupting from bushes to startle the horses, all of which made for a fun, keep-your-wits-about-you time.
Then came the afternoon ride with my sister, myself on a very zippy buckskin I hadn't ridden before, and an experienced guide we knew well so we could gallop and wend amongst the trees without getting lost. This ride was longer and harder and faster, as always, and the one that I fully knew would push me from the fun zone into the when-will-this-agony-be-over place because I hadn't done an all-dayer since April 2012, before my medical woes began.
And so it did pass. The swift pace had me huffing and puffing, sweat was pouring from under my helmet and running down my face, and muscles everywhere soon began to play up. My calves right from the start hurt like heck, and got worse as the ride progressed, clenching into tight knots of excruciation. For the last hour and a half, my ankles turned to jelly. Every time we finished a fast bit of riding, I quickly slipped my feet from the stirrups to stretch my lower legs and rotate my ankles to ease the pain, luxuriating in the relief. All in all, I did not make for a pretty picture towards the end as more and more muscles gave out, so I rode at the rear to spare the others the sight of my legs swishing all over the place and my less than impressive seat. This unsteadiness was almost the undoing of me when a kangaroo bounded onto the trail and spooked the horses, but I did not fall off! And when I finally slipped from my horse and hit the ground again, my sympathy for beginners knew no bounds as I was reminded of how agonising it feels to be a riderly neophyte.
But I did it! Sookiness was not an option. I clenched my teeth and got through it, mostly because I knew I needed to get myself back into shape for a weekend of mountain riding my sister and I and one other plan to do in about two months. So today, with that goal still firmly in my mind, I must graciously pay the riding piper his dues and suffer soreness, stiffness, and screaming ankles that have me hobbling around the house in a most undignified manner until they warm up. All of this was expected, which was why a long weekend was chosen for the pushing of this particular envelope. And it was good to find out that I had energy enough to get through such a day and make it home again (I was carefully measuring my reserves as we went) though I did collapse into bed quite early last night, and slept in to a positively decadent hour this morning. But I did it!
Usually, on the train on the way home, given that I'm wearing joddies, schlepping gear and, no doubt, have more than a whiff of the barnyard about me, I get into many conversations with fellow horse lovers. Yesterday, as a nice addendum, I met two horse-and-book mad young girls. We talked about rides, ponies and what they were reading, and they showed me their My Horse games on their smartphones and bragged about their points. Lucky kids - I would have absolutely adored something like that at their age.
Submissions: 1 (my brand new, big, shiny SF story)
So here it comes, Asteroid 2012 DA14 (they couldn't have come up with a snazzier name?) which will flyby just 25,000 kilometres above out heads, the closest-ever known approach by a large near-Earth asteroid. 45 meters across and whizzing past inside the ring of GPS, weather and communications paraphernalia presently in geosynchronous orbit, it'll be 8000 kilometers closer to us than any of those satellites. Not to worry though as researchers say that both the satellites and our planet are safe from impact. Wouldn't want our smartphones out of action. Now that would be a catastrophe!
Submissions: 7
Usually, on the train on the way home, given that I'm wearing joddies, schlepping gear and, no doubt, have more than a whiff of the barnyard about me, I get into many conversations with fellow horse lovers. Yesterday, as a nice addendum, I met two horse-and-book mad young girls. We talked about rides, ponies and what they were reading, and they showed me their My Horse games on their smartphones and bragged about their points. Lucky kids - I would have absolutely adored something like that at their age.
After that, we caught an afternoon session of Django Unchained. It's like watching Hamlet in that you know for sure there's going to be an awful bloodbath at the end. Anyway, enough has been written about this movie. The only new thing I can offer - and be warned this is a very mild and very silly spoiler - might not be a genuine observation at all, but the product of a horse-skewed mind desperately self-referencing. It comes from my being something of a palomino aficionado (just ask my sister). I notice all the horses in movies, but I especially sigh with joy when a particularly fine palomino trots across the screen.
Anyway, after a certain scene put me firmly in a Blazing Saddles frame of mind, when we got to a later scene where there was a choice of horses for Django to take so he could ride back to reap his ultimate revenge, I anticipated for a good couple of minutes that he would take the palomino, because a golden horse is what Cleavon Little's sherriff very dapperly rides in Blazing Saddles. However, as said, this may be an entirely fanciful connection wrought by personal experiences in the palomino-obsessed hinterlands of my mind. But that wasn't my only reason for my betting on the palomino. Parallel processing an otherwise simple act, a pale horse, not a white horse, is also what Death, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse rides. The fact that Django then rides the palomino without a bridle or saddle also has mythical resonance. Besides, any Western fan knows that the nameless stranger (again, Mr Death in disguise) usually rides into town on a pale horse. If he's called Bart or Bruce, he usually rides a dark horse. So lo, when Django did indeed take the palomino, I felt quite smug. Ah, the things that go through one's head at the movies.
