Sometimes, people do stupid things. Throughout my life, I would fit more on the “most of the time” side of that scale. A friend that I worked with at AFL was a rodeo announcer on the side. He came to me one day and ask if I would like to ride a bull for charity. Not being the brightest bulb in the pack, I said, “Sure.”

Shy of going to a pretty small rodeo to see one of my friends do the same thing, I had zero knowledge about bulls and bull riding. I mean it shouldn’t be that hard, right? The event was relatively large. It was the Southern States Junior finals. Supposedly, the bull that I ended up riding was a pretty good bull, whatever that means. One of the guys “in the know” told me that this bull bucked well and most likely would turn left right out of the gate. He told me not to fall into the hole.

As if I knew what he meant, I shook my head and said, “Thanks.” Several things were going on at the rodeo, and I was told to stay close. I was the “main attraction” at the intermission. I want to take a moment to share a thought that only crossed my mind almost 20 years after riding my first bull for charity: What kind of person asks someone who has never ridden a bull to ride for charity? On top of that, what kind of people donate to such a thing? I digress…

The guys told me to get ready, I would be up in about 15 minutes. I said I am ready! They looked at each other and one of them scrambled off. A few minutes later, he came back with a Kevlar vest, a set of spurs, and a helmet. People have been good to me over the years. As rough and tough as those men were, they showed compassion for my ignorance. They put the vest on me and showed me how to put the spurs on. Having the ego that I had, I declined the helmet. After three tries to convince me to wear it, they gave in.

No matter how large your ego is, there are times when you know you are in over your head. My name was called over the loud speaker, and I followed the guys to my waiting bull. I climbed up the fence and listened to the instructions that were being given. Hearing some of what they were saying and missing most of it as I was distracted by the sheer size of the animal that I was about to climb down on. Someone produced a glove, and I put it on just before squeezing my leg between the bull and the gate. He was wide enough that once my left leg was around him, they pushed him with a rod to make him move over to make room for my right leg. It was as my right leg slid down and around that bull that I knew I had made a mistake.

Someone pointed to the bull rope, and I grabbed it with my gloved hand as they pulled it so tight that I almost screamed because of the pain. If you put some dude on my back and wrapped a rope around me that tight, I’d kick and buck as well. They wrapped the end of the rope around my hand and, I remember hearing the words, “Good luck!” as someone mashed a cowboy hat down on my head.

I knew enough about bull riding to nod my head when I was ready for the gate to open, but I paused because of the situation that I was in. I had my legs wrapped around a 1300 or so pound animal that was squished into a very small area. In that pause, the bull decided that he had had enough. He raised his front legs up and started trying to get out of the chute. I didn’t let go, because I didn’t want to slide in behind him. Before long, he had settled down. The guys unwrapped my hand and pulled the rope even tighter. They wrapped the rope around my hand again and said that I was good to go.

There was no pause this time. I nodded my head, and that began the longest 5.5 seconds of my life. Somehow, my brain remembered what the guy said about the bull turning left right out of the gate. I dug my spurs in and leaned slightly to the left as the bull turned. Knowing much more than I did about what was taking place, the bull then decided to make a hard right. At this point, my rear end was not connected to the bull’s back. I was falling…but the bull wasn’t through with me. He decided to make a hard left. This put him squarely back under me. I pulled my rear end back down to the bull’s back just before he made another hard right.

I was falling again, but he made a hard left and ended up back under me. At this point, I was mentally and physically exhausted. When he turned again, my hand was coming out of the rope. I remembered the instructions that I was given on how to fall off of a bull. Yes, apparently, there is a correct way to exit one of these animals. They told me to wait until he bucks to let go. This should throw me away from the animal so he wouldn’t stomp me. I did mention that I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, right?

When the bull bucked, I let go. It felt like slow motion as I flew through the air. I landed on the back of my neck and shoulders as I rolled up next to the fence. I stood up to see the clown between the bull and me. It was over! Somehow I had fallen off of the same bull three times before I hit the ground.

Why do I share this story with you? First of all, there is only so much you can write, or read for that matter, about a treadmill and a backpack full of weight. (I got just over an hour at an 8% grade with 40+ pounds in the pack this morning by the way.) Second, I firmly believe that we can use past experiences as mental training for the goals that lay before us.

2 Timothy 1:7 NIV84
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

Don’t think for a minute that I’m telling you that God gave these words to Paul so that I wouldn’t be afraid to ride bulls. Fear can consume us. Covid proved this a few years ago. Much of the church was so consumed with the “What ifs…” that we failed to rest on what we knew…God was and is in control.

Even when we make bad decisions, God is still in control! Don’t go out and sign yourself up to ride a bull, but don’t hide in your comfort zone either. Bathe everything in prayer, and go out living the Christ Life trusting in the Lord Who saved you!

Here is my favorite picture of me riding/falling off of a bull. Christy got this picture of me riding this 1800 or so pound bull in Inman, SC. He was much nicer to me than the first bull. He only made me suffer for 3.5 seconds.

Because He Calls, Old Climbing Dad