Riding has always been in my blood. My mother rode horses with her two brothers when she was growing up, and she never really stopped. My first lesson was a magical experience. I didn’t know where my mom was taking me, because she wanted it to be a surprise. So when we arrived at a barn, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I ran into the office and my mom went to meet with my trainer. I was told that I would be riding a pony named Chumley and that I should go into the back tack room to find a helmet. My mother helped me out with finding the right size and I was on my way! When I met up with Chumley he was already all tacked up with a saddle, back pad, and bridle (of course at that point I didn’t know what anything was called). He was a very round pony, bay in color, with soft fur that I wanted so badly to pet. But I kept my distance because my mother had told me to follow my trainer’s instruction, and I didn’t want to get into trouble before I had my first ever riding lesson.

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