Stacking the Odds

Laura’s post on the dangers of riding had me thinking about the dressage schooling show I went to a few weeks ago.


An acquaintance of mine was trying to sell a mare she bought about a year. Knowing I rode dressage, she emailed me to ask if I’d be willing to ride her mare in the show. She’d already paid for two tests (Walk-Trot A&B) but had injured herself on this very same horse and couldn’t ride. Her injuries were the result of her sitting too far forward in the galloping position and the horse rooting downward with its head and not really the horse’s fault. She volunteered to haul the horse and have it ready for me.

It took me one second to say “thanks, but no thanks.” I don’t ride other people’s horses that I know nothing about. In this case, I was pretty sure she didn’t know much about this Thoroughbred mare either. Nor was she ridden with any consistency. Add to that an unfamiliar situation for the mare.

All in all, a recipe for disaster. Not a smart move for a courage-challenged rider anyway. Not that I’m a coward, but I choose to be brave on horses I know inside and out.

I tried to explain to her that I didn’t ride other people’s horses and finally recommended a friend who’s younger and braver. As it was, the mare did fine at the show, but that’s all beside the point. She did fine without me on her back getting nervous and tight and falling into all my old bad habits.

I know some people thought it was odd that I wasn’t willing to ride this green horse when I’ve ridden dressage for close to three decades and especially when I ride a huge drama queen mare on a daily basis. But I know my drama queen. I know what she’s capable of. I know shying is her worst vice. I know she shies in a certain corner of the arena. I know she likes to fall on her forehand and speed up like a runaway car going downhill on a winding mountain road. I know she’s hotter and more prone to shy when the weather is cool and stormy and dull and dependable when it’s hot. I know she’s afraid of small spaces to the point of it being a phobia. I know not to jerk on the lead rope when taking her out of her stall, but to wait for her to come out on her own after she determines the danger of hitting her head is minimal. I know she doesn’t fit in the barn wash rack designed for Arabians. I know she has to back into a trailer. Yes, I know all these things about her. I know how to deal with them.

I know how to stack the deck to have as safe an experience as possible with her every day. I don’t know how to stack the deck with strange horses, even worse, a green horse. So I don’t ride them. Call me a coward, I don’t care. I call me cautious and smart.

I’ve been hurt before riding horses. My most recent experience happened last fall when I came off the drama queen for the first time ever. I wrote about it here so I won’t bore you with the details. Luckily, I didn’t break bones, just sprained a wrist and received some arena burns because the sand was as hard as a rock where I hit the ground. Without warning, Gailey had shied in her usual corner at the canter, even though she’d gone by that corner for at least 20 minutes without batting an eye. That’s how I came off. I knew better. I knew she did shied without giving notice. Now I make sure I over bend her every time we come to the scary corner because I never know when she’ll execute another leap sideways across the arena.
I’m not getting any younger. I’m leaving the green and unruly horses to riders much younger than me. I don’t bounce anymore when I hit the ground. My body isn’t as supple as it used to be. Give me an old, dead broke horse any day of the week.

Horses are dangerous, even the old, dead broke ones, even when a person takes all the precautions necessary. Stack the deck in your favor. Stay as safe as you can for the type of rider you are or wish to be. Obviously, if you’re an aspiring trainer, you have to ride some pretty green horses and horses with vices. That’s how you build a name. I’m not a trainer, and I’m not great at sitting a buck. I know my limitations, my strengths, my weaknesses. Even more so, I know my horse. I wear a helmet. I wear full-seat breaches, in which the material on the seat is sticky, rather than slippery. I ride when other people are riding. If I go out on trails alone, I tell someone. When I ride in my arena at home, I call someone to say I’m getting on and should call them back in an hour and a half after I’m done.

Maybe you think I’m over the top. I think I’m just stacking the deck.

Readers Write Saturday--Claudia McCreedy

A big EI welcome to Claudia McCreedy. Claudia joins us this week with a post about overcoming fear. Thanks so much for taking the time to write something for us, Claudia.

Please send your posts for Readers Write Saturday to jamidavenport@att.net. We'd love to feature you with a story about yourself, your horse, or anything else that pertains to this blog.
____________________

I had a few riding lessons about 20 years ago. Then life got in the way. When my daughter was about 7 she started taking riding lessons. I watched with ill concealed envy for about three years. Then I started taking lessons. Shortly after that my husband got sick, he who had not missed a day of work in 27 years. He was sick, in the hospital, sick, over Christmas. What is significant about that was that when he got out he wanted to get a horse. We had never really considered getting a horse before that. We ended up with Tonka, a PMU draft colt that was about 9 months old. Next I found my dream horse – knew he was the one (don't know how) – at a Dept. of Agriculture action of seized horses. I didn't even know what he looked like until we went to the auction. Rohann is Percheron TB cross. He was two and had already been gelded.

So there we were green on green on green. We found a place to keep them and eventually I sent Rohann off for horse boot camp. That was about four years ago. Keep in mind caution has always been my middle name. I have gotten lessons from all sorts of people that I have come into contact with at the barn. I read about and tried to follow different training approaches mostly of the natural horsemanship type. Rohann is a big guy, drafty in build and a very, very easy keeper. Of our two horses he is the leader. He has much more whoa than go, which is fine by me. I have learned a great deal about confidence, leadership, and persistence with Rohann. I have been so lucky that he has a great laid back temperament.

Early on, on a trail ride he tripped going down hill and went down and I came off. He stepped on the inside of my lower leg to pushing off to jump up out of the little gully we were in. Luckily he didn't break my leg because of the soft sand we were in. He did whinny for me for me after he got up. I was able to get back on and ride out. A couple of years later (in a hurry on a windy day trying to get ready to go on a trail ride – invites were rare) while picking his hoof Rohann (who I would not classify as a spooky horse) spooked, big. He spooked in place, but the hoof I had been holding came down on my foot (concrete under us) and I had a break/crush injury.

The following has been explained to by me by my then 11 year old daughter as I do not have memories of the event. Three months after the foot incident my daughter and I were riding in the upper pasture, which to me is quite hilly. Rohann took off from the upper section (not liking being away form the herd) he bucked three times and I came off going down hill. My husband and I had ridden our horses up here before and were fine. The only thing different is that my daughter was with me and on a different horse but one who was in the gelding herd. I was wearing a helmet. My memories resumed from the hospital bed. But aside from a pretty sore shoulder I was physically fine.

Mentally, fear was raging. I first noticed it when I was looking at a horse catalog in the saddle section and felt nervous like you do when you are about to go into the job interview. I got on a few times after that but was shaking with nerves when I did. I just could not give up though. I worked with a girl on natural horsemanship (Parelli) stuff on the ground for the better part of the year. His ground manners improved a great deal. It was a good move on my part. I then set a goal of one hundred five minute rides in the arena. I had about thirty or so rides under my belt when I found someone who understood the whole working your way back thing. She got me interested in the Mary Wanless riding philosophy. Maybe it is how my mind works, but I love it. There are a thousand things to be thinking about when riding but not one of them is fear. I feel so much more confident when I am on horseback now. I have a better understanding what a “good seat” is. He can offer an unasked for trot and that is fine, I can deal with it. All of our work since the accident has been in the arena, with one exception. I am thrilled to say that we have trailered out with some of the other boarders at our barn to some very nice trails and had a successful ride.

We are not yet cantering, but now I feel like I am working on having a much more solid foundation for it when the time comes. It has been a couple of years since the accident. I have just kept at it. It is like the “How do you eat an elephant?” question. One bite at a time. I just can’t give up. I have taken the endurance approach (just keeping at it) to over coming fear rather than by trying to take big brave leaps and bounds.

The most amazing thing for me to realize is how all of this has translated into “real” life. Now when I am in a difficult situation I can resist the “must curl up in the fetal position” reaction and correct my posture bring up my resolve and say “I am going to ride this pony!”

Claudia McCreedy