But I also learned something I might not have believed before seeing it: It's possible to get 120 people and horses — most of whom don't know each other — to do the same thing at the same time, to cooperate, to reach a common goal, and not to trample anyone or make too big of a mess.
The ordeal for my posterior began Thursday, when the riders met for a practice session driving cattle around Fairview Park.
I haven't ridden a horse since I was a kid, let's just say more than 15 years ago, but it came back pretty quickly.
The experienced cowhands had us get a herd of 300 cattle to circle the park a couple of times, which meant we had to line our animals up to create a moving wall of horse that contained the cattle.
We were divided into teams, and that's how I met Fran, Jim and Larry.
At first I thought of Larry Day as the singing cowboy — he was crooning "They Call the Wind Mariah" Thursday, and Friday morning he sang whatever the inexplicable band at the "cow camp" was playing.
But Fran, who knows Larry from Orange Park Acres, where they both live, told me even though he's not a pastor for a church, he sometimes gives informal services for their horse-riding friends.
Larry — who was in pain during the entire cattle drive because of a broken foot — called himself the "cowboy preacher," and explained he uses the analogy of horse training, as in God is the trainer and we're the horses.
Jim Oliver, Larry's friend and fellow rider of many years, brought up one of the other things I learned about: cattle sorting.
The fact that it's "sorting" makes it sound like laundry or junk mail.
But it's actually a timed competition in which riders must separate numbered cattle from a herd in a particular order.
Jim wears the enormous belt buckle of a sorting champ.
