I’ve been reminiscing about a time I spent at the Oaks Center in Ramona, California. Seconds after I leave The Oaks, I find myself missing the special place and the team behind the scenes. Each trip is the perfect blend of restoration, relaxation, and unexpected adventure. As I reflect on what it means to “run towards life,” I am reminded of a moment spent at the Oaks Equestrian Center.
Like all my trips to Ramona, time flew by at an accelerated pace. Soon enough, the conclusion of our trip was in sight. I realized, to my dismay that I had hardly spent any time with the horses we have on campus at the Oaks. Even as a child, I was consistently drawn to horses. I always stand taller, look farther, and feel deeper on the back of a horse. They make my insides match my outsides and my spirit feel more alive. In an instance, getting back in the saddle at the Oaks became my immediate priority.
Each morning, the horses are brought out to the Oaks Equestrian Center to participate in a morning exercise. On the last day, I snuck down to witness the feat with a few friends attending a program. It’s majestic to see, hear, and feel thoroughbreds run, especially without all the spectacle and just doing what they are created to do.
Sometimes, just allowing yourself to be open to opportunity is all you need for miracles to takeplace. Call it fate or luck, the Equestrian Center was down a rider. It’s the riders’ job to guide the horses around the track in an intense gallop to increase their heart rate and blood flow. Before the question had finished leaving the jockey’s mouth,I had jumped in the available saddle.
Like I said, I’m a horse guy–but there’s a big difference between being a jockey and riding western. I am far too tall to be a jockey, someone whose job is to lift out of the saddle, becoming weightless.
The trainer at the Oaks Center’s name is Efron, and we’ve been friends for a while now. Efron spent his career as a jockey and become a trainer at the Oaks during his retirement.He briefly walked methroughtips and tricks on being an effective jockey, and in a flash, we were saddled up and on the wrap around track.
As Efron grasped the reigns of the thoroughbredhe mounted, he finished his instruction: “Breathe, stay centered, use your instincts, and stay out of the horses’ way.” Glancing at my worried expression, Efron re-emphasized the latter half of his message:
“The horse knows what to do, all you need to dois partner with him. You both will become one on the track.”
Wheels whirled in my brain and his message clicked.In the stillness of the impending launch, I was encouraged. A nervous energy buzzed throughout the horse, and I was acutely aware of the paper-thin leather saddleacross my horse’s back. It weighed under a pound, leaving me nothing to hold onto but trust and a wave of energy.
Just as my heart rate slowed, we were off. My intention was to withhold, to treat our first lap as a practice…But my horse had a different idea. By the end of our first lap, I was finally able to catch my breath. My the second, I was fully on board, letting him lead the way. Around and around we went—the track blurring into an exhilarating and unforgettable encounter.
I tell you this not to make a show of myself. In truth, I wasn’t entirely brave so much as I was reckless and uninhibited from the thrills of a California vacation. But the experience reminded me of the rise out of a season of uncertainty and fear. Many times, in life I have had to re-emerge into a somewhat familiar but brand-new reality: in marriage, parenthood, work. I unloaded some fear of my own on to the thoroughbred, a load that I didn’t know I was carrying.
It always feels good to trust in something bigger than ourselves. Despite the initial soreness, I was left feeling far more free and ready to run towards a new season: with all its challenges and opportunities.
