…yesterday I had my first lesson.
And I was right, it is fun. But boy, am I sore! My legs are sore, my butt is sore, and both arms are sore–right more than left.
I had been thinking about this for awhile, so I finally signed up. Driving out there I kept wondering if I was actually going to go through with it. Then, with my usual fabulous sense of direction, I thought I was lost, really good and lost, half-hour to recover lost, so I thought: Okay, if I can’t find the place that’s some kind of a sign that I should not do this. And then I saw some white fences and a bunch of horses and realized I wasn’t lost after all.
I signed up for a package of 8 lessons, of which however many you need are private lessons and once you reach a certain level you take a group lesson and actually…play with other people, and practice things like nudging them off the line ( :eek: ) and hooking their mallets to block their shots.
The hardest thing was getting on the horse. I’ve ridden, but I’ve never ridden English style, and I got a large (but extremely well trained) horse. So the stirrup is hanging at approximately the level of my collarbone, and there’s no mounting block. I’m fairly flexible–I’m not Gumby–but that’s impossible. The instructor said, “No worries, I’ll boost you.”
This turned out to involve some movements that I just didn’t get and a certain amount of flailing. Post-boost, I’m lying across the saddle with my legs on one side and my arms on the other. I’m pretty sure I was supposed to end up some other way, like actually in the saddle. However, I said I’d done some riding…it was an inelegant position but one I’ve been in before, and from there I knew what to do. Okay. So I started off humiliating myself in the worst way (well, probably the worst way would have been if I’d gone completely over the saddle and dived headfirst into the dirt on the other side), but who doesn’t have a mounting block, especially when the stirrups are at chin level. (Hmm, I see they’ve already gone up a bit from what I said before, by this time next week my memory will tell me that stirrup was over my head.)
Anyway, as I said that was the worst part. Aside from that, I learned a lot. The mallet is heavier than a tennis racquet, or maybe it’s just the length (I think I was playing with a 52" mallet), and the mallet is always in a player’s right hand, no left-hand play allowed. The right side is the “off” side and the left is the “near” side–that makes no sense but I think I can remember it. I was not too bad at hitting the ball if I got lined up right–the ball is easier to hit if it’s about a yard from the horse’s feet–but by the end of the hour it was all I could do to swing the mallet, let alone make the ball go more than about four feet. And most of this was done at a walk, with a bit of trotting.
I am proud to report that not only did I not hit myself in the head with my mallet, I didn’t hit my mount with it, either.
And next week, it’s a group lesson. I can’t get lost again because now I know where the place is. I’m half nervous (about as much as before the first lesson) and half can’t wait.