They're absolutely right. I watched her skim over the sandy arena surface in perfect balance this morning and thought the same thing myself. Then I got on a horse I've never ridden before and took him for a hack in the hills. Alone. Unafraid.
Yes, I'll miss Izzy's lovely conformation, fabulous gaits, and ridiculously photogenic self.
The flip side is that I already don't miss my fear. I don't miss that cold, wrenching terror every time I thought about riding a horse. I don't miss being completely overmounted and blaming myself and constantly thinking that I was just a terrible rider.
I'm not a terrible rider--I'm just a rider that isn't ready for the type of horse that Izzy is. She's going to be happy with someone who can appreciate her, and I'm going to be happy with an old, bony, paddling TB gelding with a darling face and packer personality.
He isn't God's gift to conformation, but he meets me at the gate in the pasture. He isn't young and spry, but he doesn't take advantage of me. He isn't perfectly round and balanced naturally, but he's nicely forward and a safe jumper.
I know what I'm missing out on. Izzy is an exceptionally cool horse.
It's just that I'm so much happier looking through a pair of wizened red ears on a solo trail ride on a stormy day that I have no interest in reconsidering.
>Aimee and Cuna, moving forward.