It was an early morning in Colorado. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the sound of the wind was prominent. The view was breathtaking while we were heading to a horse stable to experience horseback riding. We had arrived and were instantly on our horses, getting ready to enjoy the scenery. The worker had attached the saddle to my horse, loosely, and that day, I fully learned how to live your best life but also remembering to listen to and trust your instincts. 
 
  Around the beginning of this endeavor, we were learning how to steer our horses in the right direction and the process seemed simple. I had gotten a horse named Blocker, who had a desire to eat constantly. My mom had gotten a horse named Joe, my dad had gotten a horse named Conway, and my sister had gotten a horse named Gus Gus. After we had adjusted to our horse's personality, we started our way down the trail and were enjoying the landscape. Everything was peaceful, almost too good to be true. Even though my horse was the most rambunctious of the four, I had kept those my worries in the back of my mind.  
 
  After about fifteen minutes of non-stopping eating, Blocker had decided to munch on some grass, and I had decided to pull him back. In my head, I knew something unfortunate was going to happen. Whenever I had decided to pull him back, he refused and that led to my downfall, literally and metaphorically. My whole body was tumbling down, and I was victim to a slow-motion fall to the cold, hard ground. My reflexes had saved me in the moment, and if they hadn’t, I would have most likely broken a bone. Consequently, my hip was in pain and it was extremely difficult to get back up. After my parents had seen this tragedy, they had called the guide, Kelee, for assistance. She had gotten off her horse, Midnight, and the unimaginable happened. Kelee’s horse had sprinted back to the horse stable. I was basically a dead man having emotions. I was in shock. 
 
  “Oh my gosh, Kelee, your horse!” I had exclaimed. 
  “Wait, what? Alex, go chase after my horse and try to grab him!” She had screamed back. 
 
  Your ears were not deceiving you. She had asked to chase after the horse-version of Usain Bolt during the Olympics. I had run the fastest I could ever run through the weeds and snakes. In the end, I had lost the race and eventually, started my ways back towards the trail with no horse in my hand.  
 
  We had finished the horse with one less horse and one more memory. My family and I had learned later the horse had gotten back to his stall without supervision, but with pride and dignity. Life had thrown us an opportunity to figure out how far we would go to experience adventure and adrenaline at the same time. That was by far the finest hour that I had ever experienced in my life.