I’ve been back riding at school for three days, and I already have a long-distance relationship with my stirrups.  I can barely trot three times around the ring without hearing “…aaaaaand drop your irons” (and barely trot three more times around without feeling that familiar burning pain we all know and love).  I know it’s good for me, and the end results are certainly tangible, but I can’t help feeling a pang of terror every time my boots part from my hallowed stirrups.