Damn that shoe. That blasted "other shoe."
Last night was beautiful. After our freak cold snap on Monday, the temps climbed up into the 60s. The sun broke through the clouds. When I arrived at the barn, it was quiet. Cricket greeted me willingly at the door. And yet all I did was brush her and then feed all the horses. Didn't pull my saddle out. Didn't clip a line on her and play for a bit. Nothing.
My motivation has been stalled. I promised myself something every day until camp. But yet I just balk at getting back on her unless someone else is there to kind of push and prod me. Didn't have this problem during my 30 day program last fall. So what's the problem?
I'll tell you what it is. It's that shoe. That blasted "other shoe." And waiting for it to fall.
See, every good thing with Cricket has eventually been squashed by that other shoe, falling when I least expect it. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid the beautiful things we have achieved will be mashed when that other shoe drops. So if I don't do anything, the shoe will have nothing to squelch. We can rest, albeit lightly, on our laurels and I can say, "this is what we have done."
Unfortunately, resting on laurels leaves you stymied forever in the past. There's no new things to talk about, no new adventures to have, no new accomplishments. That's not what I want.
The trust I must find is not necessarily in Cricket but in us. I need to believe the foundation we are building is solid. I need to believe what she is offering is not a fluke. I need to believe in our partnership. It's hard.
So I have a new goal for my program with Cricket. To do something. To not be paralyzed looking skyward, wondering where the "other shoe" might be. If it does happen to fall, leaving tread marks on my head, then I'll get up - as I always have - and figure out how to move on.