Let's not be a chicken

Or chicken-s*** as one of my best friends called me in only the way a best friend can. This is what happens to me when I have an opportunity to talk to or work with a rider that I really respect. Even the thought of them knowing I exist makes me sick to my stomach. It's a complete rock-star, celebrity, "Beatles-style" star-struck emotion that I wish I didn't have. Please hide me under a rock because nothing I could do or say is worthy of your consideration and I might just start crying because I'm overwhelmed by the enormity of your awesomeness. It's pathetic, I know. 

I'll never forget when I met the Riding Master for the Lippizaner Stallions. My family and I were back at our hotel after watching their performance and my Dad had recognized him in the bar. My Dad, being the great people lover he is, had no problem going with me to talk to him and if it had not been for his encouragment I would have of course run the other way, content and complete having seen him so close. Who was I to speak to someone so great, so well-trained, so "international"? I hadn't ridden in six months and I couldn't even pronounce half the above air movements.  If it had not been for the graciousness of the Riding Master I wouldn't have said a word. I probably would have just stared at him and wondered things like,"Does he clean his own boots?". Instead, he kindly asked me questions about myself and my riding and it ended up being one of the most inspiring conversations I've ever had. I went back to the hotel room, shut myself in the bathroom and cried. 

Now, I have another opportunity to meet a rider that I greatly respect. She's a 4* Eventer that I was truly inspired and encouraged by her performance at Rolex this past year. David, Zeke and I are going this weekend to meet her barn team and see if they have a place for me. Now, I just recently birthed a child and I'm more intimidated by this weekend than I was about giving birth. I just keep telling myself that every 4* rider is human.  I like to think that they weren't just born talented and at one time in their life they were not so different from me. They were young, inexperienced and hopeful dreamers who worked hard to achieve their goals. If I can keep this in mind I might actually be able to talk to them. Or I could just fain being mute and maybe they'll take pitty on me, then after a year or two of mucking stalls in their vicinity I may be able to procure an utterance in their presence. It would be truly miraculous! Mute girl learns to speak by mucking stalls! But no, that won't work at all. Because now I have a son, a little person that I'm suppose to set an example for. So I'll be brave. I'll talk to the people I admire most and aspire to be like. I'll work hard, I'll dream, I'll take chances and be willing to embarrass myself and royally mess things up. And who knows, maybe this is a new chapter, maybe this is when I get over being a chicken-s***, but I'll never know until I try and it's certainly worth trying.