A 16-hand horse is a pretty big damn horse. Sixty-four inches at the shoulder.
One of the women who worked with us wanted on hers from the ground. Not from a block. From the ground.
She wrote… I first started with classes wanting to be able to jump on my 16 hand horse from the ground. I can now do it. I feel amazing and love this program.
She did not want a better hip score. She wanted her horse.
We talk about health like it is the place you arrive. Lose twenty. Improve the balance. Get stronger. Lower this number. Raise that one. Touch your toes. Stand on one foot for thirty seconds.
Those things can matter.
Then what.
That is the question I care about now.
What does being healthier let you do.
Get on the horse. Get on the floor with a grandchild and get back up. Walk an airport without counting gates. Garden. Stairs. Your own bags. Go with somebody you love without first asking how much walking is involved.
None of that looks like much on a chart. It looks like a lot when you lost it and get it back.
People walk in because a shoulder quit doing what it used to. Balance is not what it was. Getting off the floor has become a project. Something hurts. Something they used to do without thinking now takes thinking.
We work on the shoulder. The balance. The movement.
Underneath it there is usually a life they are trying to get back. Or a life they are trying not to lose.
Easy to forget. You chase ten more degrees, five more pounds, another thirty seconds, and never ask what you wanted those for.
She had an answer. She was not trying to be the healthiest person in the room. She had somewhere she wanted her body to take her.
Not I need more mobility. There is somewhere I still want to go.
Not I need stronger legs. There is something I still want to do.
Not I need better balance. There is a piece of my life I am not ready to give up.
Her reason was standing next to her.
Sixty-four inches at the shoulder.
She got back on.