“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
“And he’ll do it in five, you think?”
I am staring down a line of fences set up by my coach, shading my eyes with one gloved hand and holding a braided pair of leather reins in the other. Secretly, I am thanking the intrusive late afternoon sun for disguising my expression of concern and self doubt as one of simply squinting into the sunlight. I’ve been on a losing streak lately and I am anticipating another hot mess, but the knowledge that this anxiety is going to negatively affect my ride only amplifies it. I roll gently upward as Ed, my mount, casually stomps at a pestering insect.
After my coach affirms that yes, he’ll do the first line in five strides, I ask, “You think I should trot in or canter in?”
I am buying time.