Riding Lessons Changed My Life - As her marriage fell apart, Fiona Walker found solace in her horse – and then the confidence to turn her life around
It is a well-known fact that lots of little girls fall in love with ponies before they discover boys, but it's also true that many grown-up women fall in love with horses all over again once men lose their exclusive appeal.
I was a pony-mad girl who outgrew a succession of beloved four-legged friends during my childhood, weeping bitter tears when I had to say farewell.
I loved each one with unswerving loyalty, told them my troubles, shared great adventures and trusted them to look after me. Even when Simon Le Bon appeared in my bedroom, he had to share wall-space with rosettes and posters of my horse heroes.
Like many women, I stopped riding altogether when an urban career took over. Through my twenties it was boyfriends
A council has warned of the dangers of angry ponies at fetes
I outgrew instead of ponies, and I wept the same bitter tears when each relationship ended, felt the same excited high when a new one began, and craved that deep, trusting bond.
Apart from the odd pony trek on holiday, I didn't seriously return to the saddle until I was in my thirties. By then I had a successful career, was married and had moved back to the countryside. Outwardly, I seemed fulfilled, but the thumping-heart, butterflies-in-stomach highs were missing from my life.
Then I booked a few weekly riding lessons to see if I still had the nerve to gallop along a beach. The joy I felt being around horses again was astonishing. Looking at life between two pricked ears, I got my mojo back. Harnessing such power and trust was like falling in love all over again, a heady combination of thrills and nostalgia.
Not content with a weekly fix, I got my own horse and immediately had a new love in my life. I lavished attention on him, clock-watching like mad until I could drive to the yard to ride.
My husband felt increasingly left out. He even gamely took riding lessons himself, but he was never very keen, and I began to resent him muscling in on my beloved pastime. By now, our marriage was becoming progressively fractured because I wanted children and he didn't.
All the bumper-sticker clichés rang true – the more I knew men, the more I loved my horse, who listened patiently for hours as I wept into his big, strong neck without once interrupting with, 'I tell you exactly what you should do ?' or, 'Can this wait, only Top Gear's starting ??'
At my livery yard I met a host of other women who had returned to riding. We all traded secrets with great humour and honesty as we rode out together, daring each other to jump ditches or race through stubble fields.
There were wives of serial adulterers, mothers whose children had flown the nest, career women who feared they'd never marry. One resentful husband nicknamed us the Saddle Bags, accusing us of turning into horsey harridans, but it's closer to the truth to say we became those pony-mad little girls again.
For most of us, riding was an innocent love affair. For a few it was a nursery slope towards real infidelity. I would almost certainly have fallen into the latter category had I not pulled up from one long, sun-drenched gallop realising that if I could control 600kg of overexcited horsepower in open country, I could control my life.
By that point I had begun to collect lame or condemned horses like a small-scale animal charity. When I left my husband
I owned four horses, one for each year of our short marriage, substitutes for the children I craved and the love affairs I subconsciously needed.
It would be an exaggeration to say that horses liberated me, but they certainly gave me the self-confidence, support network and self-esteem to see a way out of an unhappy marriage.
Six years later I share my life with Sam, our two pony-mad daughters and 11 horses and ponies. We run a small equestrian centre, and I excitedly salute the computer screen every time we receive an email enquiry that begins, 'I haven't ridden regularly since my teens and now want to start again ?'
For me, making that decision was a leg-up to the ride of my life. As a lifelong, signed-up member of the Saddle Bags, I am still thoroughly enjoying that ride ( telegraph.co.uk )
It is a well-known fact that lots of little girls fall in love with ponies before they discover boys, but it's also true that many grown-up women fall in love with horses all over again once men lose their exclusive appeal.
I was a pony-mad girl who outgrew a succession of beloved four-legged friends during my childhood, weeping bitter tears when I had to say farewell.
I loved each one with unswerving loyalty, told them my troubles, shared great adventures and trusted them to look after me. Even when Simon Le Bon appeared in my bedroom, he had to share wall-space with rosettes and posters of my horse heroes.
Like many women, I stopped riding altogether when an urban career took over. Through my twenties it was boyfriends
A council has warned of the dangers of angry ponies at fetes
I outgrew instead of ponies, and I wept the same bitter tears when each relationship ended, felt the same excited high when a new one began, and craved that deep, trusting bond.
Apart from the odd pony trek on holiday, I didn't seriously return to the saddle until I was in my thirties. By then I had a successful career, was married and had moved back to the countryside. Outwardly, I seemed fulfilled, but the thumping-heart, butterflies-in-stomach highs were missing from my life.
Then I booked a few weekly riding lessons to see if I still had the nerve to gallop along a beach. The joy I felt being around horses again was astonishing. Looking at life between two pricked ears, I got my mojo back. Harnessing such power and trust was like falling in love all over again, a heady combination of thrills and nostalgia.
Not content with a weekly fix, I got my own horse and immediately had a new love in my life. I lavished attention on him, clock-watching like mad until I could drive to the yard to ride.
My husband felt increasingly left out. He even gamely took riding lessons himself, but he was never very keen, and I began to resent him muscling in on my beloved pastime. By now, our marriage was becoming progressively fractured because I wanted children and he didn't.
All the bumper-sticker clichés rang true – the more I knew men, the more I loved my horse, who listened patiently for hours as I wept into his big, strong neck without once interrupting with, 'I tell you exactly what you should do ?' or, 'Can this wait, only Top Gear's starting ??'
At my livery yard I met a host of other women who had returned to riding. We all traded secrets with great humour and honesty as we rode out together, daring each other to jump ditches or race through stubble fields.
There were wives of serial adulterers, mothers whose children had flown the nest, career women who feared they'd never marry. One resentful husband nicknamed us the Saddle Bags, accusing us of turning into horsey harridans, but it's closer to the truth to say we became those pony-mad little girls again.
For most of us, riding was an innocent love affair. For a few it was a nursery slope towards real infidelity. I would almost certainly have fallen into the latter category had I not pulled up from one long, sun-drenched gallop realising that if I could control 600kg of overexcited horsepower in open country, I could control my life.
By that point I had begun to collect lame or condemned horses like a small-scale animal charity. When I left my husband
I owned four horses, one for each year of our short marriage, substitutes for the children I craved and the love affairs I subconsciously needed.
It would be an exaggeration to say that horses liberated me, but they certainly gave me the self-confidence, support network and self-esteem to see a way out of an unhappy marriage.
Six years later I share my life with Sam, our two pony-mad daughters and 11 horses and ponies. We run a small equestrian centre, and I excitedly salute the computer screen every time we receive an email enquiry that begins, 'I haven't ridden regularly since my teens and now want to start again ?'
For me, making that decision was a leg-up to the ride of my life. As a lifelong, signed-up member of the Saddle Bags, I am still thoroughly enjoying that ride ( telegraph.co.uk )
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