Lessons from the Saddle: Thankful for Improbability

Howdy, fellow trailblazers! The Data Cowboy here, sharing a story that veers away from data wrangling and into a close call with something much more unpredictable. It’s a tale that nearly left me eating dust—literally—and it’s a reminder of how lucky we are when the improbable tilts in our favor.

The Trail Less Traveled ??

I've been in the saddle on and off throughout my life, and I've always felt at home there. Riding comes naturally to me, much like how some folks are just born with a knack for problem-solving. But as I learned on a seemingly easy trail ride in eastern Arizona, even the most experienced rider can find themselves suddenly eating dust.

My family and I were on what was supposed to be a leisurely 2.5-hour trail ride. It was the kind of ride where you look out at the scenery, enjoy the sun, and think about how nice it is to be out in nature. But as we all know, nature has a way of reminding you just how little control you really have. I, for one, was about to get that reminder.

We were tourists, dressed more for a day in town than a proper ride. I was wearing clunky hiking boots instead of proper Western riding boots – a choice I'd soon regret.

The Moment When Everything Changes ?

We had been riding for about an hour, winding through a remote, rocky trail. Cactuses of all kinds dotted the landscape, and the brush thickened in places. It was rugged and beautiful, but it was also far from any sort of help if something went wrong. And, of course, something did.

My horse stepped alongside some nearby brush, and without warning, a covey of birds flew up directly into his face, startling him. At the same instant, my horse lost his footing and we slid about three feet down into a dry creek bed, an arroyo. Before I could react, the horse reared up, throwing me off, and bolted down the trail.

In that split second, I found myself flat on the ground, breath knocked out of me, staring up at the bright Arizona sky. It was the kind of fall that could have gone very wrong. But for some reason, I was spared from serious injury.

The Improbable ??

Now, this is where things get interesting. ?As I started to process what the heck had just happened, I realized it was a series of improbable outcomes that I still shake my head at to this day. I could run the scenario over a thousand times and probably not have it go this way again:

1. Somehow my clunky hiking boots didn't get caught in the stirrups.

2. None of my clothing or gear snagged on the saddle.

3. I fell clear of the horse, avoiding being crushed, trampled, or dragged.

4. I didn't land in one of the many cactuses or any of the surrounding thorny brush.

5. My head missed all the rocks scattered about.

6. Not a single bone was broken – no cuts, scrapes, or scratches.

7. My camera and phone both emerged unscathed.

8. To top it all off, I didn't even lose my hat in the fall.

The only consequences were some sore ribs, a dusty outfit, and a bruised ego. Tiny reminders over the next several days of just how close I came to a more permanent outcome.

The Moment After ??

Getting up off of the ground, I had just enough time to catch my breath before the real weight of the situation hit me. My wife and daughters were riding with us, watching everything. Everything that happened and everything that could have happened was right there in front of them.? And while I felt every bit of that fall, the last thing I wanted was for them to be scared of riding, or scarred by an accident.

So, I did what I had to do: I got up. I dusted myself off, swallowed the pain, laughed, and reassured my family that I was just fine. The horse had run off ahead, but we eventually caught up with him and got everything back in order. I climbed right back in the saddle because, well, that’s just what you do.? Cowboy up!

It wasn’t easy, but I knew that if I showed any sign of fear or hesitation, it might just rub off on my girls. And that was something I couldn’t let happen.

Reflecting on the Close Call ??

The ride back to the ranch was another hour and a half of steady pacing, and I had plenty of time to think. When you have a brush with something dangerous, it tends to put everything into perspective. You realize how quickly things can change, and how little control you really have over what happens next.

As we neared the end of our ride, I found myself looking at the landscape around me with new eyes. The beauty of the Arizona desert was now tinged with a respect for its hidden dangers. The rocky trails, the cactuses, and even the seemingly innocent brush all held the potential for unexpected challenges.

In this case, I came out of it lucky—very blessed. There’s no other way to explain it. I thought about how easily my foot could have caught in a stirrup, dragging me along the rocky ground. The fact that I hadn’t been crushed or trampled by the spooked horse seemed almost miraculous. ?I could’ve easily ended up in a seriously bad spot, but instead, I rode away with nothing more than some bruises and a little trail dust.

Lessons in Humility and Preparedness ??

While I had always considered myself an experienced rider, this incident was a powerful lesson in humility. It reminded me that no matter how comfortable we feel in a situation, unexpected events can catch us off guard. It reinforced the importance of always being prepared, even for what seems like a routine activity.

I realized that my casual approach to the ride – wearing inappropriate footwear and not fully considering the potential risks – had put me in a vulnerable position. It was a stark reminder that experience alone is not enough; proper preparation is crucial.

Gratitude for the Improbable ??????

Reaching the ranch safely felt like crossing a finish line I hadn't known I was racing towards. The relief was palpable, not just for me but for my entire family. As we dismounted and began to share our experiences of the ride, I was struck by a profound sense of gratitude.

I was thankful for each improbable event that had worked in my favor. Thankful for the strength to get back on the horse and complete the ride. Thankful for the opportunity to turn a potentially disastrous situation into a powerful learning experience for my children.

That day was a reminder that life doesn’t always follow the rules or the patterns we expect. Sometimes, the odds don’t matter. Sometimes, the improbable happens, and you’re left marveling at just how fortunate you are.

Riding Off into the Sunset ??

Now, I believe in miracles, and what happened that day in Arizona was nothing short of miraculous. So, what’s the takeaway from all this? Well, for one thing, it’s that life can change in an instant. One second you’re riding along, minding your own business, and the next, you’re on the ground, wondering how you ended up there. No amount of experience or preparation can prevent every surprise, and when it comes down to it, we’re all just along for the ride.

That close call reminded me to appreciate every moment. It also showed me that when life throws you off course, the only thing you can do is cowboy up.? You might not always land on your feet, but if you’re lucky enough to walk away with a bruise and a laugh, you’re already ahead of the game.

So, here’s to the improbable, the unexpected, and the downright strange twists that make life interesting. May you always land softly when life knocks you down—and if not, may you at least have a good story to tell. Be prepared, stay alert, and if you get bucked off, dust yourself off and get back in the saddle. Because in the end, it's not about how many times you fall – it's about how you handle the ride

This is the Data Cowboy tipping my hat and riding off till next time. Stay safe out there, and don’t forget to hang on tight—it’s a wild ride.

May your data always be clean,

???? ?????your insights always be clear,

????????? ??????????and may you always land on your feet when life throws you for a loop.

I am The Data Cowboy and I approve this message. ??