Thank God they made It Home

The Roman Stoics used to say that anyone we care about is "a hostage to Fortune".

Last night at 10 p.m. my two hostages to Fortune finally made it home through the killer blizzard. What would normally have been a 5 hour drive took 10 hours; they were sometimes driving 25 mph on freeway with a posted speed limit of 70.

Every semi that blasted past them flung a tsunami of wet snow on their Ford Focus windshield. They were in near white-out conditions most of the way.

You can imagine my state of mind. I wanted them to stop and get a room but they are young, optimistic, and bull-headed. And they made it.

That was a good sight: dragging suitcases up the driveway because the snowplows had blocked the entrance and they parked across the street. I had cooked a supper for them but they were too jangled to eat. So dinner tonight is taken care of!

Little Rufus, my new puppy, was at first shy of these two big lads, and ran into his crate to see how things would go. It did not take him long to see the opportunity to add two members to his cult following and he turned on the tricks...lick hands, place chin on knee, dance in place, curl up in a new lap. They duly pronounced him a handsome dog and praised his silky coat. Gabey nearly had a conniption fit but he was getting his share of lap-time and attention too.

Now I get to kick into high gear with cooking for young lads: something I love to do.


I feel like I aged 10 years yesterday night.

When Horses Hurt Us

Several blogger friends have been involved in horse-related accidents recently so I thought it might be opportune to swap war stories. Could this innocent looking face ever have scared the daylights out of me, to the point where I could not bring myself to even put a saddle on his back let alone think about riding?

In a word, YES.

When I had owned my OTTB Montana for about 6 months, I felt confident enough to ride him all alone in the arena. So one day as I was doing this, trotting along all brave and proud of myself, a barn girl chose to run by the open arena door in a flash of white: white t-shirt, white sweatpants, white shoes, and a flying blonde ponytail to top it off.

This white vision Montana caught out the side of his eye and it obviously unnerved him so off we went at a sudden gallop, with sharp turns to avoid hitting the walls. I lost the reins and got them back, lost both stirrups and never even tried to get them back (no mental ability at that point), and eventually was thrown off on a sharp turn.

To her credit, the all-white girl came running back and caught him which was not hard, he was just standing around with his eyes bugging out. I had landed on my shoulder and head, tore a cruciate ligament in my right shoulder, and was shaken up to the bottom of my soul. Tears, fear, knowing I had to "get back on", nausea, desire to sell horse immediately, bitter regret that this is what my lifelong dream of horse ownership had come to, all boiled away inside me.

I got back on and we walked a little, with me no doubt telegraphing my emotions to him quite clearly. He looked like he felt sick too.

This was not the end but the beginning of my problem, because I had lost the desire to ride. Completely.

I went to the public library and got books on basic riding, and on riding after an accident, and on sports psychology. Being a book person, reading is always my safety net. I continued to visit Montana almost every day, but instead of riding I just sat outside his stall (sometimes crying if no one was around, sometimes singing to him), and with his door open so that he could reach out and snuffle my hair when he felt like it.

I decided to set myself the smallest goals possible, and count it as a huge victory if I achieved them. So, being able to saddle him and lead him into the arena, perhaps even mount up and sit there for a few minutes, was a huge victory. Being able to walk him in a circle: even more huge!! Kudos to me!! Ice cream time!! And that's how we worked it out over a longer period of time than I would like to admit. He was fine as long as I didn't seem nervous. I also decided that although horses are sensitive, they aren't psychic; it's OK to be nervous if you do everything in your power not to project. La la la! Laugh a little, even if it a tad hysterical sounding.

One device a sports psychology writer described was this: Build a mental space called "My Riding Resource Room". Imagine a room with everything you enjoy: it's your favorite color, has a comfy chair, has your favorite snacks and tea, nice lighting. Into this room you will permit only the positive things about horses and riding: a favorite photo on the wall, your favorite saddle. The horse himself may or may not be allowed to poke his head in the window, depending! In this room is your horse-related joy. Visit this room often in your mind. Visit your Riding Resource Room before you come near your horse. Visit it after a ride and see if anything good has been added.

I painted my R.R. room burgundy, and put an overstuffed chair in it, and an espresso maker, and pictures of beautiful thoroughbreds on the walls. The saddle made it but not the horse, not for a long time. Finally he was allowed to peek in the window.

These wonderful animals -- we love them to bits, and when they hurt us it goes deeper than physical pain. And the fear can be very hard to manage. I still visit the R.R. Room 7 years after my worst fall and having had a few other falls which weren't so bad. It still comforts me. And the idea of getting/staying in touch with the basic joy of horses still seems to me the most important thing.

"What if...?": Fears on the Trail

1. "What if my horse spooked forward and jumped off this cliff?"

2. "What if Johnnie tripped and fell down while we are crossing this 55-mph speed limit road, and a semi came roaring around the corner with brake failure?"


3. "What if John got stung by a wasp while we are passing this rusted-out wreck in the woods, and cut himself open on its sharp fender, and bled to death miles from anywhere?"






There's a fine line between due caution & care on one side, and worry-warting negative thinking paranoia on the other. I suspect I am often a leetle tad to the wrong side of this line. Where do you draw it?

Fear Strategies

Recently I have read a great deal of interesting things about fear in relation to riding horses. Over at NuzzlingMuzzles' blog (see links to the left) you may find a great series of posts about experiencing and responding to a riding injury, and what it leaves behind. This blog's author invited folks to share their strategies for dealing with fear, and I have a few that work for me. Maybe they will help someone else too.

My off-track thoroughbred and I scared each other to death for 2 solid years, mostly because of my incompetence and his inexperience in normal riding situations. But even though after 7 years I now know him very well and am a better rider, he remains a reactive horse. As he advances in dressage and becomes very supple and fit, this makes him pretty to watch because it gives him that spark. But it triggers in me memories of falls and failures that set us up for more of the same.

In the above photo you see him in his favorite setting, galloping around a course of jumps. You also see how strong he is and full of himself. I psyche myself with the following tricks:

1. "Horse, we are in this together." Every time I get on his back, I say this to myself; it continues: "Wherever you goest, I am goesting right along with you and I am NOT getting off before I am ready." I had noticed I had a certain defeatist attitude when he spooked or offered to gallop; I would curl forward and start to separate from him. So this little self-hypnosis plugs me in and tells me I am on for the duration.

2. Bucking straps are a grand invention. I have some sort of grab strap on every saddle and during our walkaround warmup I remind myself where it is without looking, just to get the body memory of reaching for it back activated. I also grab it and pull a few times, so he doesn't associate that movement with an 'episode'.

3. "We are not done yet." To keep on working even when I've had an unsettling episode was hard for me to learn, but so good for him. Right through a spook, right past the looky spot, right back to trot after an uninvited gallop-offer, keeping on with the work as smoothly as possible helped him calm himself.

He may never be a steady-Eddy but I am so much more steady myself that it matters less. What helped me the most was good riding lessons with a competent instructor who put me and SpeedyBoy on the longe line for what felt like forever. She took away my stirrups, she took away my reins, it made me sore as all getout. It has paid off so well, I recommend it for anybody who ever felt unsteady on a reactive horse.