I'd been conditioned as a man to react theatrically whenever I was balls-hurt. A couple minutes of stumbling around and an accident report later, I realized it just didn't hurt that bad. It caught me airborne at whatever the fuck speed that horse was going (his fastest,) right in the balls. My full, flying weight was met mid-air by the saddle horn. As my weight was off-centered and toward the horse's ass, I flew forward. As I came around and passed the bag at full speed with my arm completely outstretched, my horse decided to come to a complete stop by first bucking and then rearing. It was a team event where one wrangler would sit in a box on their horse, while another wrangler raced around the ring to come by and pass a saddle bag to them. My second season, I was competing in a relay out our weekly 'rodeo' called pony express. I worked on a dude ranch for two seasons.
