As my family and good friends know, and as many of my professional acquaintances are starting to figure out, I am a self proclaimed horse geek and I’ve been riding for about eight years now.

Inevitably, if you ride horses long enough, you get injured. And, also inevitably, those stories will start with something like, “It all started when I got on the one-eyed horse…”

That’s how this story starts. I’m only able to afford a weekly lesson (taken at Painted Valley Farm from Karma Huff), and I ride a different horse every week. Last week, it was Cisco.

I went to get him from his stall, and he seemed sweet enough. His only downside, as far as I could see, was he was blind in one eye from an accident early in life.

He was tentative, not rude or balky, when I led him into the barn to be saddled.

But as soon as we were in the arena, I knew I was in for it.

Like all good battles — Gettysburg, the French Revolution, the Battle for Endor — my own began with a battle for truth, freedom and the desire to do more than plod around the arena.

I started working with Cisco like I do with all stubborn horses, clucking my tongue, a nudge in the side with my heels. Then comes the riding crop, which is a last resort for me because I’ve always hated using them. None of these worked, and all I could prod out of Cisco was a grudging trot for a few steps before he lapsed back into a weaving walk.

I felt bad for him, I really did. It was obvious that he was disoriented, plus ornery like many lesson horses, and he had figured out that no matter what I did, he still out-weighed me five times over.

And then, it happened, the topper to the evening. We were coming around the corner of the arena, with Cisco’s blind eye facing the wall. I was busy trying, yet again, to encourage him into a trot, and realized too late he was veering into the wall.

Karma said there was a loud noise, but I didn’t hear anything as my left leg scraped between the wall and Cisco’s side. My knee was squashed, and he startled slightly at hitting the wall, crushing my knee more. I let up on the reins, and Cisco got what he was hoping for all lesson, a plod to the center of the arena where he could stand without anyone harassing him.

I managed to get myself to the doctor’s office, with the help of my wonderful mother (Thanks Mom!), to find out I had a contusion (a really bad bruise). Nothing broken, but I was guaranteed my knee would swell to the size of a large grapefruit (it did) and ibuprofen would be my best friend in the coming days (it was).

I also told myself as nice as Cisco was, I probably wouldn’t ride a one-eyed horse again. But I came out with a funny story (or maybe it’ll be one to me in a month or so when the memory of pain has faded).