The word courage is often associated with heroes. Knights in shining armor, men strong enough to break down walls, or daring first responders are just a few of the many examples that would come to my mind when I was young. To me though, no one was braver than a cowboy. I often dreamed of saddling up and racing through open plains, running down stampedes, and chasing outlaws. When I got into my teenage years, I had the opportunity to work as a cowboy where I saw firsthand how terrifying a stampede can be.
There was one day I distinctly remember when I was with a group of cowboys, and we were moving a herd of cows. We were near a gap in the fence line where we could let the cows into a new pasture with fresh grass and water. Gradually the cows at the front of the herd began to grow restless. Their agitation built until a few began to run, stirring the others into a stampede. I was the only cowboy close enough to the front of the herd to stop the cows before things got out of hand. In that moment I was terrified. I knew that if I was going to do my job and get these cows to safe, green pastures, I would have to stop the stampede. However, to stop the stampede I would have to ride in front of the herd and pray they didn’t trample me to death. Somehow, despite the danger, I found it within myself spurring my horse into action. I cut off the herd and avoided a major stampede unscathed.