So it’s the day, the day-and-a-half moment.
You know the time when your muscles are rebelling, when your bones are screaming, when your fascia is bouncing and bombarding like it’s dancing in the Mardi Gras parade. Yeah, that’s where I am today. It’s when you hunt a horse, hell, ride a horse for three hours when you haven’t ridden three hours in three months. Yeah, that’s where I am at the moment.
It’s a good place.
I can’t walk fast. I can’t move fast. But I have yesterday’s memory distracting me, pushing me, convincing me, inspiring me. I rode Situational Ethics with the Piedmont Fox Hounds yesterday. Second field, yeah, yeah, don’t tell anybody. It was a slow, step-off-the-ledge, rather than jump-off-the-ledge day. Thank you to the Piedmont Fox Hounds, Lissa Green and my wife, Annie, for turning a horse who I seemed to doubt into a horse who I trust. Sure footed, aware, Jerry Rice along the sideline.
When I run, I’m asked if I have my phone. I don't. That’s why I run. Same goes for hunting. Three hours without a phone, without a thought, without a worry, without a distraction. Yeah, that’s why you do it, right?
Have you looked around lately? Be here now. Yeah, be here now. We live in Middleburg, Virginia. Most days, I don’t look around, don’t think about how lucky we are to live in a place like this. Yesterday, I looked around. We rode through and behind farms that I had only seen from the car. To think, there are these woods, these ravines, these stream crossings laced and layered across this beautiful country. Situational Ethics, we call him Seth, was tricky when we got him and, sure, it’s taken a long time, but to ride a horse who understands the job, understands the exercise, enjoys his job, enjoys his exercise, that’s satisfaction. I feel it in every step I take.