Centered in the Saddle

I am a secret badass. It’s true. People do not look at me and think, dang, that girl is a badass. Probably they think the exact opposite. In fact, I once casually mentioned to a friend that I’m kind of a badass, and he laughed like, okay Lisa whatever you want to tell yourself. And I was like,

Do you want to volunteer to climb aboard a thousand-pound animal and jump it over brightly painted objects? Can you sit a buck/bolt/spook that could easily leave you flat on your back? No? Okay then.

I was thinking about this story after my latest lesson, before which I was missing my much-needed badass attitude. But I put on my determination pants and made sure Prada knew it from the word go. You want to try to bite me? I will bite you back. I have no interest in bullying you, horse, but you better be damn sure that I’m no doormat. You will show manners, and you will go over the jumps. I will do everything I can to make sure jumping is as easy and safe and fun for you as possible, but you are. going. over.

It worked! Zero refusals. No unplanned dismounts.

Granted, the jumps were not large, up to probably 2’6″ at one point and I had to grit it out to ride through the nerves.

That’s it. That’s the badassery I’m talking about. I may not be jumping huge fences or winning big shows, but I am conquering my own fear and challenges in a sport that has a lot of inherent danger. I am – as all equestrians are – a low-key badass.

I have thus coined my own word for this state of mind: Badassitude. It’s the badass attitude that we all sometimes need to tap into, to jump that scary fence, compete at a new level, or sometimes just mount up.