The Slow Ride

A friend arrives and we go riding together. She's on Bess (thanks Lisa!) and I am on Crownie. This is as much a girlie catchup as a ride and we're happy walking along and chatting about children, health and money. But the riveting conversations stop as we go into trot, then canter, then gallop. Three minutes later we're on top of the hill, smiling, cheeks beaming a rosy colour. Still, it all feels amazing slow to me these days, and even at the gallop I'm playing around with the reins, encouraging the horse to stretch and lower her neck, and use her back more. In fact, I wouldn't mind jumping a couple of logs along the way. Does that sound like cross country?