Should’ve been a cowboy…

Toby Keith was one of my favorite country artists and Should’ve Been a Cowboy is one of my favorite country songs. His passing last year hit me pretty hard. We were the same age and grew up around the same part of the country. My uncle was a principal and baseball coach at his high school in Moore, OK. Relistening to that song, partnered with our recent trip through CO, WY, and UT, got me thinking that I really miss our horses and maybe I should’ve been a cowboy.

I can’t blame my family for my misfortune. As you can see, they dressed me for the range from a very young age. My grandfather even bought me my first horse, “Dan.” He lived at Granny Acres with the chickens, sheep, and one hog a year. Dan wasn’t very ridable, and I wasn’t very confident being on him. One of my most vibrant memories was him trying to scrape my uncle off of him by running him through the trees, aiming for the low branches. It would be almost 40 years before I got horse number 2.

“Ace” came into our lives when we purchased him from a big cat sanctuary, where he lived surrounded by lions and tigers. (I’m not pulling your leg. He actually lived next to 50 cats that would like to eat him.) We moved him to a boarding facility on the south side of Chicago that was adjacent to miles of trails in the forest preserve. Our first time out with a group of other riders was uneventful, but that would change the next day. I saddled him up and we went by ourselves. As soon as we hit the woods, he did a 180 and headed back to the barn. I’ll spare you the details of the fight that ensued, but it lasted several days before we were finally able to enjoy riding the trails again. The stories of those rides alone could last an hour so if anyone wants to buy me a beer or two, I’m retired.

About a year later, we bought Double Lucky Ranch and moved Ace north, to within a stone’s throw of the Wisconsin border. The property came with a huge indoor arena that was lined with mirrors on both sides for dressage training. On his first night there, everyone had gone home but him and me. It was about 10:30 at night and I decided it would be a good idea to saddle him up and just take a couple of spins around our new arena. Things were going great until he spotted himself in the mirrors and sent me flying off his back.

If you watch horse events on TV, you may think that landing on the sand acts like a cushion. Well, let me tell you, that just isn’t so. As I laid there, the wind knocked out of me, Ace couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirrors. And that became the first obstacle we would need to overcome in our new home.

Eventually we formed a great partnership, spending much of our time off trail, looking for new adventures, going where no man, or horse, had gone before. As the years passed, and catastrophe after catastrophe seemed to seek us out, I could count on Ace to be there for me, ready to take me into the woods, away from all our problems.

About now, you’re thinking I’ve really gone bonkers and can never relate this to Lou Gehrig’s disease. All I can say is… challenge accepted! Toward the end of our time at the ranch. Ace and I were out for one of our adventures. We were just getting started with a warm up lope through a trail we’d covered hundreds of times. I prided myself on being a very balanced rider and using a loose cinch. Noticing my saddle was slightly off center, I put some weight on my right stirrup and immediately spun the saddle and myself onto the ground. I first hit the ground with the back of my neck, contorting in ways I hadn’t done since grade school, coming to rest on my knees.

At that point, I couldn’t breathe at all. My thoughts and surroundings became very clear. With the saddle on the ground next to me and Ace about 20 feet away (looking at me like I was an idiot), I thought to myself, one of two things had happened. One, I’d severely knocked the wind out of myself or, two, I’d broken my neck and those were my last moments on earth.

What felt like several minutes passed and I was eventually able to croak out a breath. Okay, I was alive, but I was about a mile from the barn, my body was in a massive amount of pain, my saddle was on the ground… and my horse thought I was an ignoramus.

Through a great amount of pain and effort, I was eventually able to saddle up Ace again and mount up. The ride back, I looked like a mortally wounded cowboy trying to make it back to the fort, bent over, hugging his neck, just trying stay on. When I got to the barn, one of our grooms was looking at me with questions in his eyes. I didn’t have the energy to explain. I just handed him the reins and limped toward the house. The next two days I hurt from the tip of my toes to the top of my head.

And here it is…the day I was diagnosed felt a lot like that day I came off Ace. Everything became very clear. There was no fear. I accepted my new reality. And best of all…I lived through them both. At this point, I’m back in the saddle living my best life, feeling like nothing is impossible for me. I believe God still has a plan for me and I can’t wait to discover what it is.

In closing this week, I’m sharing my favorite picture of Ace and I enjoying a sunset at the lake across from Double Lucky Ranch. I miss him. I wonder if he misses me.

And a last minute song addition I just heard today…

Have a great weekend. Thanks for spending a little more time with me.

God bless.

Coach