Fear Anyone?

Lois Greiman

Fear. It’s a funny thing. Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes it’s silly. Sometimes it’ll save your life and…well, you tell me.

Here’s the deal: I think I told you guys last year that I began riding in a silly little class called tandem bareback with a friend. I’ll call her Colleen--cuz that’s her name.

Anyway, we were so dazzling as tandemers that we qualified for the Championship Show. Ergo, we were sitting in the coliseum watching other classes when what should come up but the rescue race.

Like tandem, the rescue race is a two person, one horse event, but instead of riding serenely around in circles wearing ridiculous costume you have a jumper and a rider. The jumper stands at the end of the arena while the rider gallops down and picks up the jumper so the two can race back together. The problem is, this is done at considerable speed, and generally the jumper, with the momentum of the horse, ends up flying over the top of the animal, or under the animal, or hanging around the thousand pound, half crazed animal’s neck like a hapless sack of feed.

So I’m sitting there thinking ‘entertaining but NUTS.’ I was, in fact, just turning to Colleen to give her my opinion on the insanity of the situation when she says, “Man, that would be so much fun!”

Me, because I’m sane (well, kinda-you know) said, “No. No no, my dearest Colleen. That would not be fun. Notice how everyone in there is under 25. That’s because all the older contestants are dead. They’ve been run down. Plowed under. Buried.” But she was adamant. So…being the great friend I am, and being terribly entertained by the whole thing, I promised to find her a partner.

Hence, I toddled home and informed my son Travis--who you know has a death wish--that I had a friend who wanted to be ‘rescued.’ He asked how big my friend is, to which I answered, “Oh, 88 pounds.” (Colleen is blond, adorable and the approximate size of a toothpick. Feel free to hate her with all the vengeance and zeal this fact engenders.) Anyway, long story short, Travis was game so they began practicing.

Then last Saturday, after a long, cold winter, we went to our first horse show and rode in games for the first time in our lives. We put up with the wind, the dust and the grilled burgers, only to be greeted by a rainstorm before the rescuing began. It wasn’t a full twenty seconds after the first fork of lightning zapped across the sky that Colleen packed up her stuff, saying it was too dangerous. We had to go home. Meanwhile, I’m thinking she must be kidding; she was going to be killed by that big, hairy, crazed palomino (and Travis) long before the lightning fried her. But she was serious and we left the show early. (I’ll keep you apprised about future events.)


Anyway…it got me to wondering if everyone has such different ideas of what’s scary. I mean…as kids, we used to go swimming during electrical storms, I’m not particularly unnerved by heights and I’m not scared of witches, which are featured in UNDER YOUR SPELL--my new book, which has just been released, and can now be purchased at your favorite book store for a mere $6.99. (See how I just slipped that in there. Smooth huh? Almost subliminal? Hardly even noticed?) Ahem. But my point is, I would never jump on the back of that crazy horse with a crazy guy like Travis.

So how about you? What are your fears? Rational, irrational, just plain silly? How about that ‘choosing a swimsuit thing?’ If that doesn’t scare the bejeezus out of you nothing will, huh? Am I right?

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