I am honest when it comes to my mobility limitations. That’s a nice way to say I am incredibly clumsy and have been my whole life: In eighth grade, I ran straight into a wall while playing basketball, knocking myself unconscious. When I was 58, I tripped on a sidewalk and needed shoulder surgery. You need this background to judge my family fairly for the story I’m about to tell.

Once the quarantine lifted a bit, I could not wait to get out of the house. I called two old friends to see if they wanted to go for a walk. We agreed to make this a weekly activity, and once a month, we’d do something one of us had always wanted to try. I came up with the idea of going on a trail ride—on horses in nature and stuff. I was really pushing my limits but felt good about my choice.

I found a place and talked to a nice woman on the phone who I am quite certain had to bite her tongue answering my ridiculous questions. “How old were the horses?” I wanted one about my age, 60. “Do they ever just gallop away with the rider holding on?” I pictured myself getting the one crazy horse who wanted to just run. “What kind of people go on these rides?” I did not want to find out we would be with a bunch of championship barrel racers. After lots of assurance, I signed us all up.

I mentioned my plans to my family. So many questions and comments followed! Had I ever ridden a horse? Where was I riding? Could I ride a mule instead? What kind of protective gear would I have on? Did I know this was a bad idea? Hadn’t I slipped down the last three steps with the laundry basket just that morning?

You get the drift. My family was undermining my idea to try something new and also pointing out that if something did go wrong, well, I HAD BEEN WARNED. I talked to my friends, who really didn’t seem to care one way or the other, so I canceled. I explained to the woman at the ranch why. She took pity on me and gave me my money back.

So by the time my family reads this, my friends and I will have had an enjoyable time axe throwing. No one could possibly get hurt doing that, right?

Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.