I inherited, from my dad, a love of horses. The first horse I ever got on was Shoofly. I don't have any idea how old I was, but I remember the experience. Dad tossed me on her back, and my brother was placed behind me. As our pictures were being taken, my brother and I slowly started to slide, sideways, off her back. (She wasn't saddled; we were sitting on a silky blanket on her back.) Before anyone could react, we were on the ground, falling from 16 hands high. I remember my brother crying, and me begging for Dad to put me back on her.

Our neighbors, the Penry's, had horses and Dad helped train them. I'd go with Dad every weekend to help, and that's when I learned to ride. We didn't have our own horse, so unfortunately I didn't get to ride often. The last time I rode a horse was in 1998, for my honeymoon. We were in Mexico and Allan and I took a horse-back excursion.

Lately, something has been drawing me to ride. The freedom you experience on the back of a horse as you're galloping through a field or pasture - that's what was calling out to me. I needed to go riding.

So, I did some morning googling, and headed up to Ogburn Stables. For 90 glorious minutes, Barney (what the hell kind of horse name is Barney?) and I followed trails and galloped through the pastures.

I am renewed.