Horses are large, unpredictable animals, and riders are often thrown. Horsemanship wisdom says that if you don’t remount right away, fear and hesitation will make it harder next time.
Obviously, falling off a horse is an event which might trigger fear and a reluctance to get back in the saddle. After all, it’s not a lot of fun being dumped from a height.
But what if you simply stop riding for a while? Would you feel the same worry about re-starting? Well, you might.
Years ago, I started a programme of strength training with a coach. It involved four lifts using barbells: the squat, the deadlift, the shoulder press and the bench press. When I started, my coach only put small weights on the bar. But I progressed, and it was exciting and rewarding to see my strength improve as the weight on the bar increased.
I supplemented this training at home. I bought a set of dumbbells and a book:
I enjoyed training with my coach, and I enjoyed using the dumbbells at home. I got into a good routine, and I saw reasonable progress.
Around eighteen months ago, my coach gave up the lease on her gym and began working online only. This wasn’t suitable for me, so I stopped training with her. And, for reasons I don’t really understand, I also stopped working out at home. The dumbbells stayed in their cupboard, and the book languished on its shelf.
I kept telling myself: “Get back on the horse”. I hadn’t “fallen off”; there had been no great calamity. But there had been an “event”, in that my coach stopped coaching me. She had a very good reason: she was expecting her first baby! I was thrilled for her. But that “event” was my equivalent of falling off the horse.
The more time that passed, the less I felt like opening that cupboard and seeing those dumbbells staring at me with their disappointed faces. So I didn’t open it.
I was frightened of finding out how weak I’d become. I didn’t want to know how much strength I must have lost by not training for so long.
I even scheduled re-starts in my diary: “Weight training”, I wrote, on many different Monday mornings. And then ignored them all. Until Monday 15th September, just a week ago. Something made me do it. I got those dumbbells out of their cupboard, dusted off the book and started again.
I made it easy for myself: small weights. Not too many reps. Just get it going again, and follow on from there. It’s working. I’ve done three workouts now, and have scheduled them for twice a week. Now that I’ve actually started, I know I can do it.
I’m back on the horse!
So why am I telling you all this? Because I was hearing recently about someone who used to play the piano. She had regular lessons, and she reached a high standard. She stopped playing for a while, probably because there were other things in her life. She could go back to it now, but she’s reluctant. She feels she won’t be any good, not now she’s had quite a long break from it. She has decided she won’t be happy with her playing, because she’ll remember how well she used to play, and now she will fall short of that. And so she doesn’t play.
I don’t know about you, but I think that’s really sad. I would love to encourage that person, and anyone else who feels the same way, to just start. It doesn’t matter if you start from the very beginning again, or if you take a few steps back just to find your feet. Pick something easy. Small weights. Find out if you can still do it at all. You’ll be amazed. Slowly, it will come back to you. You may not be as rusty as you think. But even if you are, just start from somewhere. Progress will follow.
Isn’t that better than regretting what you’ve lost?
I spent far too long being apprehensive. I thought I’d be “rubbish” at lifting after so long. I thought my muscles would have wasted away in that time, and I’d be ashamed of how little I could do. Don’t fall into that trap. If you’re a “lapsed” musician, on any instrument, blow the dust off your violin or your trumpet, open up your piano lid, get out your guitar… whatever you (used to) play! Give it a go. Buy some easy-peasy music, or dig it out from when you had lessons, years back.
In other words: Get Back On The Horse!
PS: If I can help in any way, please just get in touch. If you haven’t played for years, and now you think you’re not good enough, just call me for a chat. And this might apply to someone you know, or someone in your family. Please talk to them, and I’m very happy to help if you think I can.
PPS: My apologies to any equestrians reading this. My horse-and-rider images were generated by AI, which doesn’t seem to know you should always wear a riding hat. I am aware of this, though. Any other errors in the images are also the fault of the AI, but please take these graphics as the symbolic illustrations I mean them to be.
I’d love to know what you think of all this. You can put a comment in the box below this post, or you can email me directly. I read and respond to everything.
Humoresque is available to anyone who might be interested. You don’t have to be one of my pupils, or even learning music. If you know anyone who might be interested in subscribing to Humoresque, please let me know. I will only need their name and their email address. Thanks.
Humoresque = a whimsical or fanciful piece of music. Be whimsical, be fanciful, but play in time!
This is Humoresque Number 18