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Horse riding story

Horse riding story

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Published by Sarah McMahon

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Published by: Sarah McMahon on Feb 20, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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02/20/2013

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Sarah McMahonGoodheart English CompositionStory: third draft 3/8/12I lie on the ground, my face flat in the soft dirt. My teacher hovers over me
asking, “are you ok?” I hear soft thumps my mother walks
hurriedly over to my stillbody. I am rolled over; I see the two concerned faces. My back seizes with pain whenI try to move my head.
“Stop moving Ho
n. Ugh, this is why I never wanted you doing this in the first 
place,” my mother mutters
. I hear pounding of hooves. Another face joins theworried looks of my mother and my teacher.
The long black face looks down. “W
hat 
happened?” his eyes seem to ask.
 Moments before I was on top of that horse, his mane whipping through theair. The only thoughts in my head were
“keep your feet low” and “stay u
pright! You
don’t want to make Phoenix mad by hitting his neck do you?” I had been ridin
garound the large horse ring at a fast canter. The canter is a three beat pattern, asopposed to the four beat pattern of a walk and the two beat pattern of a trot. Thecanter was going well, I prepared for my second of three jumps. Knowing that thefirst was good, I thought the last two were going to be the same. The preparation forthe second jump was a bit shaky because of my nervousness about the final one. Iclear my second jump and move to my third. A small daydream popped into myhead.
 
I am at a national competition, and I feel no worry even as my horse moves at top speed. My form is perfect as he sails over the last and biggest jump. A crowdcheers, and I receive first place for my time on the hardest equestrian course of thiscentury. I dismount. My white steed looks at me and rubs his face on my shoulder. Iaccept my medal.Dillon was my white horse, the horse I had had all of my training on. He wassweet and lazy, but his stubborn side would catch me off guard. He would neverallow the bit to slide into his mouth. Nor would he agree to anyone picking out hishooves; even though it was beneficial to him. But I loved the old horse.
When I’m
thesmall red horse barn,
I was getting Dillon’s saddle when my teacher
came up to me.
“You’re
going to ride Phoenix today
,” she said and
 
handed my white steed’s saddle
 to another girl. I was shocked. My new horses jet-black hair and reared head told meall I ne
eded to know about him at that moment. “Don’t mess with me,”
his eyesscreamed. I wished this horse would disappear, and my noble white steed wouldreplace him.I remembered training on Dillon earlier that 
year. “Keep
your heels down!You don
’t want to fall off do you?” teacher yelled
to me across the ring, I felt the lowpull in my heels when I stood up to let Dillon jump over the small training jump. Ashis back hooves lifted off of the ground I held my breath. My heart raced, my handswere clammy as we landed. My heart jumped as I glanced back. My first lift-off,while small, was an enormous accomplishment for me. This put me one step closerto my goal. My dream faded, I felt my neck pain again, and I understood why I wason the ground.

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