I think what hit me first was the smell the first time I went to the Barn: It was a terrible mix between manure and spoiled, musty water. I remember stepping out of the car onto the gravel driveway, and walking with my mom to a big, gray barn with a fence around it. Inside the barn was even dustier than outside and the nauseating smell had intensified greatly, making it nearly impossible to withstand. Everything in the barn was dusty.

There was a metal fence separating me and a big, brown horse. The sight of the horse was terrifying for my small body. I grabbed tighter on to my mom’s hand. A lady had begun talking to my parents about the program and how it was “therapeutic”. I was too busy watching the horse that was tied against the wall. It was moving around and rubbing the wall with its nose. My attention turned back to the woman when she asked if I wished to go pet the horse and possibly ride it: Not really, no. It looked so big and scary to me and I didn’t want to get hurt; but after a few minutes of my parent’s encouragement, I mounted the horse for the first time. Riding was oddly different than I expected and anticipated: Instead of anxious and uptight, I felt relaxed and comfortable. There were people walking on both sides of me of course and one leading the horse, but I was actually enjoying it. I was enjoying horseback riding.

Having cerebral palsy, often times I have felt uncomfortable participating sports. While my brother played soccer and friends did gymnastics, dance, and swimming, I would stand watching them. Someone was always faster than me, stronger than me.

I always felt judged when it came to athletics. I was insecure about the way I ran, the way I couldn’t catch, the way I swung too late. I never felt more different than when I was participating in sports. My inability to perform at the level of my peers is what kept me away. That changed when I was introduced to horseback riding. I did it at a place that specialized in horseback riding for kids with special needs. The instructor was trained in working with people with disabilities and the horses were desensitized so they did not spook.

In the beginning, I was not very good and I would spend the hour frustrated with my body's inability to listen when I told it to relax my muscles and put my heels down. After every lesson, my muscles would be tighter (instead of looser) and very sore. However, as time progressed and I didn’t quit, I became better. I could keep my heels down and my body relaxed. I was able to balance by myself and no longer needed people to walk beside me. I built a bond with my horse and she listened to me. I eventually would be able to trot without someone leading the horse and even perform in shows, placing relatively well in all of them.

I didn’t know, when I first started that horseback riding would be one of the most important things that I have ever done. It enabled me to feel comfortable while participating in a sport which was priceless. However, the effects of riding reached far beyond my view of sports. It made my balance better, allowing me to learn how to ride my bike and improving my walking. It made me feel confident with my body, knowing that I could do something not everyone else could do. It helped me to face disappointment and respond to it by working harder, not giving up.

That musty smell became comfort to me over the years. The sight of the horse, exciting. The dusty barn, a symbol of my achievement and hard work. The instructor, family to me. I will always be thankful to that small, beat up barn for showing me that I am capable; capable of anything.