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ACCEPTANCE.

I repeated that word over and over again in my mind, trying to clear my head.

I squeezed my knees into the horse’s flank, pushing him to race faster, then faster still. I crouched low in the stirrups, my legs screaming as I hovered over the saddle. The reins were sandpaper on my blistered palms, and each gasp of air burned my throat.

For two beautiful minutes, I was there, free from every thought beyond the fight to stay astride.

But the horse could run that fast for only so long. Already he had slowed to a trot. I had to relax, and the second I did, the...