There is something particularly humbling about getting back into horse riding as an adult and explaining that you used to jump while someone adjusts your stirrups.

You want them to know you weren’t always this person. The one gripping the neck strap because a horse at the other end of the school has started cantering.

You had a pony. You competed. There are photographs.

Unfortunately, the photographs are at your parents’ house, and the instructor has to work with what’s in front of them.

Returning to riding after a long break puts you in an awkward position. You know enough to recognise what you should be doing, but doing it is another matter. You remember the feel of a good canter but find yourself hoping nobody suggests one just yet.

Returning to riding after a long break

Perhaps you went to university. Moved for work. Lost access to a horse. Had children. Had a horse put to sleep and couldn’t face starting again.

Or you were going to book a lesson once things settled down, and things have now been settling down for eleven years.

Horse riding can quietly disappear from your life without you ever deciding you are finished with it.

Then someone lets you hold their horse, or you drive past a riding school, and you start looking at lesson availability on your lunch break.

You tell people you’re thinking about getting back into it.

You have already checked the route, the prices and whether your old boots still zip up.

“How much riding have you done?” is now a complicated question

The short answer is “quite a lot”.

The accurate answer involves dates, qualifications about how regularly you rode and a particular pony whose behaviour requires some explanation.

You don’t want to oversell yourself. You also don’t want to be mistaken for someone who has never held a rein.

“I used to have my own” comes out quite quickly.

You then spend ten minutes trying to find the correct hole on a stirrup leather while the instructor politely waits.

There is no box on the booking form for “previously competent, currently unclear”.

You remember being braver than this

At fifteen, you would get on the horse everyone else was avoiding. Now you would quite like to know why everyone else is avoiding it.

You have questions. Has he been ridden this week? What does “a bit fresh” mean here? Is the gate supposed to be open?

You used to hear “he likes his jumping” and feel excited.

Now you would appreciate some detail about how much he likes it, and whether you will have any say in the matter.

Then a child goes past on a pony, riding without stirrups.

You look away. This is between you and the neck strap.

Your standards have returned before your riding has

A complete beginner has the advantage of not remembering a better version of their sitting trot.

You do.

You can hear the correct instruction in your head while your body produces something only loosely related.

Your instructor says, “That was better.”

You wonder how bad the previous attempt must have been.

Later, you spend the drive home reviewing your hands, your lower leg and every transition.

You are also quietly pleased. There were a few strides when it felt familiar.

You would like those few strides mentioned in the lesson report.

The yard smell gets you immediately

You can spend years being a reasonably well-presented adult, then get incredibly excited at the smell of horse poo.

Someone hands you a grooming brush. You start picking hairs out of it without thinking.

You remember how to do up a rug before you remember where you parked.

There is something reassuring about doing ordinary horse things again. Picking out feet. Rolling up stirrup leathers. Standing beside a stable while a horse searches your pockets with very little respect for your personal space.

You had forgotten how much time you could spend watching a horse eat.

Fitting horse riding into your adult life

As a teenager, you could spend six hours at the yard and consider it a day well spent.

Now you are checking whether a forty-five-minute lesson can fit between work and the supermarket closing.

You have brought your riding clothes to the office in a bag. You are hoping nobody asks why you’re leaving in different trousers.

For most of the day, you are thinking about your lesson.

Then a meeting runs over, traffic builds up and you arrive slightly flustered to ride an animal who has had an uninterrupted afternoon.

By the end, you don’t particularly care about the meeting anymore.

You do care that someone has taken your parking space near the mounting block.

You don’t quite understand the clothes

Your old jodhpurs are still at your parents’ house.

You try them on. The waistband sits somewhere unexpected, and there is a zip at the ankle you have no memory of needing.

Everyone else appears to be riding in leggings.

You browse for something more current. An hour later, you are comparing shades of green and wondering whether you have always had strong feelings about base layers.

You have ridden twice.

You might want something different this time

You used to want to compete every weekend. Now you just want a horse that loves you and doesn’t want to kill you.

Now you see someone loading at six in the morning and feel relieved that you’re going home after your lesson.

Or perhaps you watch a competition and start wondering. Nothing ambitious. Just a little outing, eventually.

You don’t mention this yet. You are still working on keeping your outside rein.

There is also unexpected pleasure in having an hour where you cannot answer an email. Someone can send one, obviously. They are welcome to. You are trying to ride a circle that meets a fairly generous definition of round.

It will have to wait.

You start getting attached

You ask who you’re riding next week, trying to sound casual. You are hoping it’s the same horse.

You now know which side he likes scratched and that he pulls a face when you tighten the girth but seems quite happy once you’re on.

Someone else describes him as lazy. You feel this is unfair.

You begin arriving early enough to say hello.

You get home, leave your boots by the door and remember how much you like having this in your life.

By Sunday, you’re looking at horses for sale.

You filter by “just browsing”, which unfortunately isn’t an option.