Getting back on the horse, when running no longer is possible

For a little disclaimer, I am trying not to make this really long and depress my readers, but sometimes you just need to write out longer messages.
When I was about 13 years old, I tried riding a horse for the first time, and was just trying to feel comfortable riding on something living and taller than me. I picked the most gentle, old, and slow horse I could for my first ride. I first was led by the bridle around the fenced yard, and then outside in the open field.Things were going smooth, I was almost getting comfortable even though I had the reins in a death grip and I was nervous and the horse could tell. At this point I was riding the horse on a slow trot without him being led by Mary. Horses like to run or gallop, to make one trot is irritating to a horse.
That's when it happened. In a nearby wooded area someone fired a gun or a car backfired. It didn't really matter, because whatever it was panicked the horse, and he reared up to his full height. With a panicked whiney that sounded more like a scream, he kicked his front legs up and I fell backwards a bit and I only held on by one of my feet caught in the stirrups and one hand holding on to the horn of the saddle.
After that rearing the horse ran like a gunshot away from the noise and full speed across the field. Mary shouted at the horse to stop but Old Nick was spooked and could think of nothing but escaping. She could only run to her own horse and hope that Old Nick would stop.
Now some of you out there might be going "Well if he knew how to handle a horse, it would have been a lot better." This was my first time on a horse, and the relax and calmly say woah might be easier for Keanu Reeves but I was too busy screaming and holding on to the saddle.
As the horse went racing across the fields I began panicking and shouting the occasional "woah" and "stop," accompanied by other words which I will not print here. Mary at this point was racing after me with her own horse, and her husband Allen had heard my very loud outbursts from the barn and took off after me on foot (since we had the two horses.)
Racing at full speed and screaming and no longer even able to try calming down me or the horse as we went racing toward a nearby railroad track and even over my screaming I could hear the sound of an engine horn. Old Nick and I were going to catch the 5:10 steel train if we didn't stop. (If you're wondering, I came from a town with four train lines and you learn the schedules if you live next to them long enough-so the time and train are accurate even without me really studying it.)
At this point I screamed out "If you don't stop we are both going to die . . . (the rest of the sentence is unprintable.) Then I closed my eyes, held on tight, and, if you could call it that, I prayed. The horse stopped very close to the tracks with a sudden complete halt. The horse seemed to skid a bit and stopped right before the gravel at the side of the train line. I lurched forward and bruised my thigh against the horn of the saddle and my ankle twisted and sprained in the stirrup that my foot was still attached to. Even though my eyes were closed, I felt the hot air from the side of the train on my face and wondered if I had actually died.
I felt a hand on my own after what felt like hours. I opened my eyes and instead of meeting St. Peter at the gates I saw Allen take hold of my hand and tell me I was ok. Mary had held the reins of the two horses and kept them still. The Train had been gone for a few minutes and I was fine and safe.
"You can let go now, "Allen said quietly to me. Allen had always been somewhat a rough and gruff man that normally would make a sailor blush. Today I saw relief and paternal fear for me, and seeing how it had him almost made me want to cry. He pulled my fingers from the death grip on the saddle and after freeing my aching foot he pulled me off the back of Old Nick. I couldn't talk, I wanted to cry but couldn't. With his arm on my shoulder, Allen walked me back to the farmhouse, while Mary led the horses back to the stable.
They have an expression that you must get back on the horse, but I will level with you all. I never did. I have lived in fear of riding on anything with four legs and I have to force myself to even pet a horse at a petting zoo.
Old Nick and I have more in common than that brief ride on an April afternoon. We are both runners.I have been running most of my life, rather than dealing with adversity. If something becomes too hard, I quit. If I feel rejected or that I fail, I walk to the exit. You don't have to be running fast to run.
Don't confuse running as retreating or living to fight another day. When you run you are looking to escape and never come back, you actually run faster and faster the further you get away. Start now and you will never stop, until something forces you to.
I wrote that letter to my niece a few days ago, and I admit that I have a hypocrite in me that tells her not to run away and quit. I admit that for the most part I didn't listen to that advice myself. When the problem comes along you must whip it . . . well I try to skip it. I would rather do nothing, than do something and fail. When I fail, I don't get on the horse again when I should.
Today the lesson I heard in a sermon/message was about "Fighting Discouragement." This is the first time I have told this story to more than a few select people, and rarely do I tell the whole story. The fear and not letting go of the saddle is normally left out because I hate to admit how afraid I really was. I want to come clean about it, if anything to tell you that I am trying to get back on the horse. (Someday perhaps literally, as well as figuratively.)
I had plenty of chances to talk to people face to face about this today (the trying to not run part, not the horse story) and tell someone about how I haven't had a good sleep for over a week. I frequently have people around that would like to talk to me, pray for me, encourage me, and sometimes just listen and nod.
I talked myself out of it, by saying they are too busy, or they would pretend to care because that's their job, or I had to go home and work. A lot of people out there are throwing me a rescue rope and I would rather cut the line and drown than deal with things.
I hope none of you do the same.I want to stop running and face things, instead of finding ways out of them. The longer you run, the harder it is to turn around. In times you will be afraid, in times you will fail, in times you will be rejected or hurt. You can choose to let that rule you, or you can get back on the saddle again.
It is time for Janus to stop running, and it shouldn't take a train to convince me of that.