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The Curse Of The Electric Buns

Growing up, my coach used to tell me I had “electric buns”. Those electric buns bit me in the, well, buns, during one lesson in which I somehow convinced the horse I was on to dump me - not one, not two, but three times. To this day, that moment sticks in my head as one of the foundational lessons missing from my riding repertoire.

In reality, it was a perfect storm that triggered my three-times-is-most-definitely-not-a-charm lesson learned. There was a beautiful dappled gray (because of course he was a dappled gray) off-track Thoroughbred gelding that had just come into the program at the barn. His name was Opie, and he was the stuff my 13 year old dreams were made of. Nevermind that he was 17 hands tall, a bit of a sensitive ride, and more than a little forward. Shrugging at my lovestruck appeal to ride him, my trainer settled in and tried to teach me how to ride the horse that I had no business riding.

Please click here to read the rest of the article as it appears on the Noelle Floyd website.

Article written by: Sally Spickard

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