facing fear

By Jennifer Klitzke

Whoosh! A Nokota drill team zips into the arena. The horses are ridden by young women half my age. I’m dressed in my formal English attire, and awaiting our team performance at the Minnesota Horse Expo. The arena is filling up with more Nokotas. In an effort to respectfully stay out of their way, I ask the fearless Nakota leader, “Do you mind if I join your drill practice?”

Hearing muffled snickers through the team’s gestures, “Sure,” the leader replies.

My Tennessee Walking Horse, Makana’s white braids swing wildly with each nod as we tag along.

Suddenly the young women stop and form a circle with their horses facing inward. Thinking the drill pattern is complete, I ride away.

“Hey, we’re not finished yet,” the Nokota team says as they and motion me to join the circle.

As Makana and I return the young women arise onto the backs of their Nokotas, slide off the backends, run from behind their horses, hop back into their saddles, swing a leg over to one side, and flip off their saddles backwards faster than you can say ‘Jimmy Johns.’

Now I know what the muffled snickers were about!

I thank them for their kindness and ride out of the arena where we encounter a wooden bridge trail obstacle. We face the object until Makana relaxes. Then we take a couple steps onto the bridge.

A few minutes later the Nokotas blast by and applaud our efforts.

You see, if you knew me 30 years ago, I was young and fearless like the Nokota riders. I was a trail guide. It was a dream job: ride for free and get paid for it, too! However, the guides rode the mystery horses that had just gotten purchased from auction. We introduced them to the trail and rode bareback for lack of saddles. I was game.

One summer evening I led a group out for an hour-long sunset trail ride. Half into our ride, the wind began to swirl through the mature forest. Fireflies and lightning lit our way as the ominous clouds set the tone. Sounds of distant thunder grew near. Then drops became waves cascading from the sky.

Riding bareback on a drenched mystery horse straight from the auction trailer was like riding with the Nokota drill team for me. I led our group safely back to the club house with a thrilling story to share.

Still invincible, five years later I was talked into the talent of a four-year-old off-the-track thoroughbred mare. I was clearly over horsed and under skilled. It didn’t end well. I fell off more times than kept track. Fearlessness now replaced with phobia. I faced a crossroads: Quit riding horses or face the fear.

Thankfully the latter won out.

Fear hasn’t disappeared, but it has been managed by perseverance, good instruction, finding a suitable mount, wise counsel, and my faith in God.

Will you see me standing on my saddle, flipping of the side, and riding bridleless and bareback with the Nakota team?

Maybe next year.