Try Easier

My friend Jennifer—the self-titled queen of the quip—loves the saying, “Try easier.” She offers me this advice all the time, pretty much in application to every sphere of my life, and yet I don’t think I really got it until this past week, when I returned to Montana.

Understandably, I was feeling some trepidation about riding a horse again, since the last time I rode one, I fell off, knocked myself unconscious, and broke my neck. Immediately after my fall I would have gotten right back on, but as the shock and trauma settled in my body I started to feel very anxious. I felt shaky, and in doubt of my own capacity. After my doctor physically cleared me (“no jumping!”), I faced a choice: I could wait until next summer, or return to Montana with my son Max as planned and see if I could slowly work it out on a horse. The former seemed too scary. I didn’t want to spend 12 months in anticipation, wondering if I would still enjoy something that I’ve historically loved so much. And so we flew back to Montana.

In years past, I have vied for certain horses—typically very fast and challenging ones. Horses who would keep me on my toes, make me a better rider, or at least perpetually braced for the unexpected. This time, I resolved to ride the horse Andy chose for me—one who would undoubtedly keep me safe. He put me on a mare named Tequila, who, as her name suggests…goes well with everything, in every situation.

I started out the week very slow—primarily walking, with a few short lopes to see how my neck felt. Perhaps unsurprisingly to those who ride, the scalene on my left side, which had been very, very tight and sore, actually released, by way of movement. Feeling more sure of myself, I slowly picked up the pace, until I was flying along per usual by the end of the week. Just on a different horse. A horse who didn’t spook, shy, or make any attempt to run away with me. A horse who I didn’t need to manage. A horse who very much took care of me, who let me relax.

Here’s the shocking revelation: Those were some of the most enjoyable rides I’ve ever been on. Try easier, indeed.

I’ve spent the past several days examining my instinct to always make everything so hard; to not find value in however I’m spending my time unless I’m challenging myself, pushing myself, striving and struggling. Why do I think I have to take the AP version of everything for it to count as worthwhile?

I don’t think I’m alone in this instinct, particularly in the mundane way it shows up in my every day. After all, I’m not an adrenaline junkie, at all. I’m just convinced that I must WORK VERY HARD, ALL THE TIME, AT EVERYTHING. Otherwise, it’s somehow not worth doing, or I’m wasting opportunities, a disappointment to myself. What is this thing in me? And can anyone else relate?