Scaredy cat.

I have a confession to make. I've been withholding something from you guys for about a month now.

I signed up for a riding clinic. It's this weekend. I'm scared poopless.

I think, at the end of the day, I didn't talk about it because I was a little bit convinced that I would back out, and if I didn't tell anyone, then I could do so without disappointing anyone. Because, I mean, how would it look for someone who writes a blog empowering plus sized riders to back out of riding in public because she's afraid?

I went over the excuses a million times with my friend, Nicole. What if we were too out of shape? (Everybody will be - we've had an exceptionally difficult winter and unless you have an indoor ring, nobody has had more than a few rides.) What if my saddle doesn't fit? (It does, I just had to go up three gullet sizes for her, and suck my butt in for me!) What if I get there and I'm told that everything I've done and known for the last twenty years of my life is wrong, all wrong? (You can't keep swinging a hammer without hitting at least a few nails!)

Finally, this weekend, I paid my provincial equestrian club membership, gained confirmation of our entries, and faced up to the facts: I am going to this clinic. I am not going to be shy or embarrassed. I am going to wear my AFG&AFH swag with pride. I am going to set an example for you guys. Because, I mean, how would it look for someone who writes a blog empowering plus sized riders to back out of riding in public because she's afraid? Can't I use this as an excellent opportunity to relate to everyone how it feels to be afraid and go ahead anyways?

I'm extremely fortunate to have these opportunities: a horse, a trailer, the money to pay the entry fees, the access to a riding instructor, the health and wellness to ride. I recognize there are others, even amongst my readership who don't have these opportunities. So I've decided I'm going to ride this clinic for each and every one of you.

Afterall, Brian Tracy says:

You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.