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.

It's Your Head, Protect it!

Earlier this week, Olympic dressage rider, Courtney King-Dye was airlifted to a hospital after a fall from a young horse she was schooling. I understand she normally wears a helmet but didn't have one on at the time. She is in an induced coma with a head injury and bleeding on the brain in two places. She is expected to recover, though details are sketchy at this point.

This incident made me think about the dangers we face every day when dealing with these large animals.

Many years ago, a very good friend of mine was in a lesson. She was riding a school horse. The horse was dead broke and dependable. She was walking him around outside after her lesson. She stopped to talk to someone. The horse rested a leg and caught her off gaurd. She lost her balance and fell off. She hit her head on the only rock in the entire area, which resulted in a severe head injury. She was in a coma in the hospital for a month. When she came out of it, she didn't remember anyone and had the mentality of a child. She was about 40 years old at the time. I never knew what happened to her, but I heard she ended up in a nursing home with no hope of a recovery. She lost her "future" because of a freak accident and no helmet. She did have the helmet on during the lesson but had taken it off afterward.

The tragic incident with this friend changed my attitude about wearing a helmet. I was in my 20s at the time. I've religiously worn a helmet ever since. To me it's like wearing a seatbelt, without it, I feel naked.

Where I ride, everyone wears a helmet, no exceptions. Yet, I know a lot of barns aren't like that. Dressage trainers are notorious for not wearing helmets. Even worse, at upper-level dressage, the majority of the riders wear top hats at dressage shows. Western riders and trail riders are even more inclined to not wear helmets. The trail rider wearing a helmet seems to be the exception, not the rule. Why is that? Take my friend, for instance, whose entire life was changed in one moment by a freak fall from a horse. Riding outside means trees and rocks and all sorts of terrain not meant to have contact with your head if you want to keep it healthy. It doesn't matter if you're just going for a leisurely walk on a beautiful spring day. Accidents happen. Horses spook. Riders lose their balance.

About ten years ago, I was riding in the outdoor arena. I forgot to wear my helmet (probably the only time this has happened in years). Being lazy, I didn't go back to the barn to get it. The outdoor arena was very cushy bark, so I figured I was safe. While practicing changes on the diagonal, my bomb-proof gelding hopped up in the air to do a change. I flew off and hit my head hard. I realize now, I had a small concussion. I didn't know it at the time, but I did walk around in a fog most of the week.

Do you wear a helmet? Are you one of those that hates to mess up your hair under a helmet? Do you think you don't need one because your horse is one-hundred percent safe? Do you hate how hot your head gets under a helmet? Do you succumb to peer pressure? Do you think a head injury won't happen to you?

Think again. Head injuries are the number one horse-related injury. All it takes is one mistake on your part, one moment of inattention, one unexpected incident. Please consider wearing a helmet. Go to the local tack store and buy a good one. It's your brain, the only one you'll ever have. Make sure it's an ASTM/SEI certified helmet, which means it meets safety standards.

If you don't wear a helmet, I hope you'll reconsider your decision. It's your head, protect it!