On random accidents and the importance of wearing a helmet

Last year, when I bought Qrac, my Lusitano, I wasn’t used to wearing a helmet. I’d never worn a helmet when riding Kwintus, my now-retired schoolmaster. Of course, not wearing one when riding Kwintus was stupid as he had a recurrent stumbling problem, and it was eventually because of his stumbling that we had to retire him.

 

I think we all agree that it’s dangerous to ride without a helmet, yet I’m sure most of us have done so at some point in our lives. I see many young riders at my stables riding bare-headed or in trendy looking baseball caps. Most of the professional riders I know still ride without helmets, but when questioned on the subject they tend to go all sheepish, then wrinkle their nose and say that they know they should, really. Then why don’t they? One professional replied that it would mean wearing a helmet eight to ten hours a day, and they give her a headache. I told her I understood where she was coming from, but that there are many very light, comfortable helmets on the market. I also asked her if she’d ever read about what had happened to Courtney King-Dye.She hadn't, so I told her the terrible story in a nutshell. Maybe she'll Google it, and show up with a helmet next week. But I doubt it, and that's okay.

Granted, there’s something nice, even something romantic, about riding helmet-less. There’s that sensation of freedom, of the wind in your hair. There’s also the added bonus of not having to wash your hair on a daily basis; I don’t know about you, but I sweat enormously through my head  so there’s no way I can take off my helmet, tip my head upside down and glamorously toss my tresses back into a swingy, silky do. No siree; when I remove my helmet, my hair is super-glued to my head, bald-eagle style. It’s ever so attractive.

Anyway, during my initial weeks with Qrac, there were days when I didn’t wear a helmet. However, I didn’t feel exceedingly comfortable helmet-less as he was pretty rushy-pully back then, so most days I put it on. In fact, most of the times when I didn’t wear my helmet was because after so many years with Kwintus, taking it out of my cupboard and putting it on hadn’t become a reflex yet, and I genuinely didn’t always realize that I wasn’t wearing it until I’d gone down the road to the arena, and then couldn’t be bothered to go all the way back up again (the arena was quite a ways from the stable block). But I soon got into the habit of wearing it, and last November, when I moved Qrac to my current stables, most of the other dressage ladies wore helmets, and the set-up was different (I clip my helmet to the wheelie-trolley I use for my tack and other equipment), so I have a visual reminder as well.  

There was one time in February, during the big freeze in the winter, when Qrac had a slightly fat hind leg and could only be walked. This meant that I would spend 45 minutes or so just sitting on him, plodding around the indoor arena. It was about minus a bazillion degrees, I was wrapped up like a Michelin Man and wanted to keep my ears warm, so instead of my helmet I wore a woolly cap. I figured it was no big deal; after all, I was only walking him. 

Hmmm...

The second time I didn’t wear my helmet was about two weeks ago, during the tail end of our mad heat wave. Of course, that was the day when Qrac suddenly went bananas whenever I asked for the right lead canter, throwing his head around, going against my outside leg, even pulling up sharply and spinning to the left. Trust me, I wished I’d worn my helmet, even though nothing bad happened. A visit from the osteopath seems to have fixed my horse’s problem (he had a blockage in his hips), although he’s still a little iffy at times, so I’ve asked my “magic man” (a healer) to come and see him this coming week.

Anyway, those were the only two times when I haven’t worn my helmet since last November. And I was wearing it this morning, when I rode Qrac in the outdoor arena, and although he wasn’t on his best  behaviour and played me up a little in the right lead canter (trying to lean into his inside shoulder and switch leads, pretty much like he did when I first bought him), I had a pretty decent ride. Once we’d finished the more collected work, I did a couple of laps in a nice, deep and round, forward trot, then transitioned to walk.

I can’t remember whether I dropped my reins immediately, as what happened next took me completely by surprise. We came round the corner in walk, tracking left, when suddenly Qrac fell over sideways. Maybe he put his foot in an irregularity in the ground and his legs slipped to the right and his body to the left, or maybe he just got his feet in a muddle. I don’t really know, although the first option strikes me as the most plausible. If he stepped in a hole, maybe he then lost his balance by stepping onto one of the railway sleepers that line the edge of the outdoor arena (I hate them. They’re the same colour as the floor, and neither high enough nor low enough). Since we were only in walk, I wasn't thrown clear, so I stayed on him as he fell down, landing with my left leg underneath him. It didn’t hurt at all; all I felt was his soft belly on top of my leg, but I saw his four legs fly upwards on the other side, and for a split second I thought he might roll right over. Which would have been bad. Really bad. But he didn’t. He rolled back to the left, got up, and so did I, and I my first thought was, “oh dear, he’s a stallion and he’s going to run away,” but again he didn’t, and instead stood perfectly still, looking at me as if to say “what the heck just happened?”. I hobbled towards him and took hold of the reins. My left foot felt a little sore, as did the spot between my shoulder blade and the base of my neck, which clearly got a little strained when my left shoulder hit the ground.

In a bit of a daze, I checked him over to make sure he hadn’t cut himself, walked him on a circle to check whether he was regular, and then got back on. I walked, trotted, and then put him into the right lead canter, and to my surprise found him far more relaxed, far more “with me” than before he fell. In fact, I haven’t had such a good right lead canter in ages.  Did he freak himself out by falling and decide to be more focused? I don’t know. I only rode him for a few more minutes, but those were by far the best minutes of my ride. Strange, don’t you think?

Once we’d finished, I dosed us both with arnica and showered his legs for a long time, but chances are we’ll be a little sore tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I will be, despite a nice long soak in the hot tub when I got home.

Most importantly, what I learnt today is that, even though I didn’t hit my head when my horse and I went down, I’ll never sit on my horse again without wearing my helmet. Because this morning my horse went down for no particular reason, presumably like Courtney King-Dye’s horse. Qrac wasn’t misbehaving, he wasn’t being asked to do something complicated, he hadn’t spooked at something and lost his balance in a crazy spin. He just fell over, like we can fall over if we slip on a banana peel, or on a slippery pedestrian crossing, or simply trip over our own feet. Of course, some people will argue that if we wear a helmet, then we should also wear a back protector with an airbag, and that accidents happen, which is fair enough. Maybe one day I'll be wearing a back protector with an airbag; in fact I know one dressage rider who does. She fell off and broke her back, so I can see why she would. 

Has your horse ever fallen over for no apparent reason? I know we've discussed the issue on this blog before, but do you wear a helmet? Have you always worn one, or did something happen that convinced you to wear one? Do professionals around you wear helmets? Personally, I thought it was great to finally see some top dressage riders wearing helmets instead of hats at the London Olympics, and really hope that the FEI will soon make helmets mandatory for all competitors, if only to set the good, safe example, especially for young riders. Tell me what you think.

 

Reality Check

by Laura Crum


I’ve written before about fear issues, but today I want to write about something different. Today I want to write about how genuinely dangerous horses are, and how most of the time we ignore or forget about this.

Yesterday a good friend of mine called me and told me that a mutual friend, a very experienced horseman, had come off a horse and broken eight ribs, his shoulder, and a leg. This man had just recovered from a horse wreck several years ago that had broken his leg in three places. He is in his sixties. Its easy to say that he shouldn’t be riding horses that might dump him, but, in fact, the horse that off-loaded him was a gentle horse that just hadn’t been ridden much lately due to the lousy weather. It spooked at a cow—and he came off hard and landed badly.

Boy oh boy did this hit home with me. My gentle horse has sometimes been livelier than usual when we ride—because he hasn’t been ridden more than one or two days a week on average all winter and spring—it just keeps on raining. Still, I make the basic assumption that all our broke horses will behave reasonably well—they always have. And that’s fine as far as it goes. But they’re just horses, after all, and any horse that is feeling good is capable of dumping the rider. The trouble is that being dumped can be so serious.

Jami posted awhile ago about Courtney King-Dye, the Olympic caliber dressage rider who came off the young horse she was schooling, hit her head, and was in a coma for many weeks. I’ve been checking Courtney’s website for the updates her husband reports. Last I read, Courtney could speak, but had great difficulty walking and using her right hand. No one knows how long it will take or how much she can come back from this. As much as I admire this woman’s determination and positive spirit, I can’t help feeling the extent of the tragedy.

Easy to say, again, that she should have worn a helmet. But a helmet wouldn’t have helped my old friend, whose injuries were not about his head. And we all wonder how much this older man will be able to come back and lead a normal life. The friend who told me the story, another man in his sixties who has ridden all his life and is currently having his knee operated on due to being bucked off six months ago, said, only half jokingly, that he might never get on a horse again.

Helmets are certainly a good idea (says me who doesn’t wear one), but the only child I knew who was killed by a horse was killed in an English riding lesson, in an arena, wearing a helmet. A ridden horse kicked at the horse she was on and broke her neck. Christopher Reeve broke his neck while wearing a helmet. Helmets will not protect us against all horse related injuries.

Every single time I contemplate how many people get seriously hurt and/or killed on horses, I wonder why in the world I continue legging my little boy up on his horse. Maybe we should just take up soccer, like the rest of America.

And yet, I have ridden my whole life and never so much as broken a bone, let alone anything worse (knocking on wood). I’ve come off maybe a dozen times in my life (mostly back when I was training colts). Nothing more dire happened than I had the wind knocked out of me. I was out cold once when my first horse kicked me in the head. That about covers it.

Now days I stick to riding gentle, reliable horses, and, of course, this greatly reduces the odds of getting hurt. But as yesterday’s phone call illustrates, even a gentle horse can spook. And if you happen to come off wrong, the consequences can be dire.

My little boy has come off once in his life. He has been riding non-stop since he was two—first in front of me in the saddle, then on his leadline pony, then riding alone on first the pony and now his horse. I spent a lot of money on the older gelding that he rides, who is the single most reliable horse that I personally know of. My son has covered lots of rough country, loped many circles, gathered cattle, had his horse be a touch fresh. He came off when Henry spooked slightly one day. Ironically, it was when we were rehabbing the horse from colic surgery and I was hand walking him. My son was riding bareback and lost his balance. My little boy had the wind knocked out of him—nothing worse. Knocking on wood. Cause it could be much worse.

I truly believe that owning and riding horses has been a great blessing for my child. He’s learned coordination, determination and compassion, let alone enjoyed the delight and thrill of being carried along by a horse that riding gives us all. I’ve been told that horseback riding is the number one therapy for kids with developemental issues. I believe it. And if so, think how theraputic it must be for all of us (and I have certainly experienced this). But the downside haunts me.

Just yesterday we had another little boy over to play. I asked the mom if she would like me to give her son a ride on Henry. She hesitated. Then she said, “We have a thing about horses in our family. My older sister was killed when she fell off a horse. She was twenty-two.”

Well, OK, then. I immediately said that there was absolutely no reason for her to put her child on a horse and that I wouldn’t mention it to the kids. But she decided that she did want her son to ride Henry. Her boy wore a helmet, as does my kid, and both had a wonderful time. I’ve never seen such lit up eyes. Henry behaved perfectly for both boys, walking and trotting quietly for my little boy, and also for our visitor (this time on the lead rope—I am truly very cautious with beginner kids), who had never ridden before. My son demonstrated a half dozen circles at the lope, which Henry did beautifully. I was tickled. But still…the dire consequences of the downside of horses were driven home to me once again.

There is no particular answer to this conundrum. I love horses; I love to ride. I’m not ready to quit. My son and I had a couple of great rides this last weekend. It was sunny for once (though its raining again now), and both horses were perfectly behaved. Nothing could be farther from tragedy than our smiling faces, loping along in the spring sunshine, with all the roses in bloom and the air full of that sweet scent. It seemed idyllic. But it is a truly dangerous sport. No more dangerous than driving down the highway, my horse loving friend tells me. Well, maybe that’s true. I don’t know the statistics. So, I’m here to ask you. Does anyone else struggle with this? Or am I the only one who is sometimes “boggled” by the downside of horses? Especially when it seems that so many around me, some much more accomplished horsemen than I am, have been so badly hurt. And especially when I think of my son. Any thoughts?