DISPATCH SEVEN: Even the best fall down sometimes.

In a recent blog post, my wife discussed her fear of the eventual consequences of gravity while riding a horse and I always try to remind her - falls, fails, spills are never a reflection of how much a person loves riding or even their skill.

In the horse world, we all fall down. We fall down; we fall off, we fall sideways, over, or backward, or in any number of impossible directions.

When I hear someone say that they’ve never fallen off, well, all I can think is that their time is coming.

Sometimes, it just happens.

It doesn’t have to be a lawn dart moment, you know? It can be a simple loss of balance or a soft landing on your rear end.

Or it could be catastrophic, and the repair requires hospital stays, surgeries, and warnings from doctors who tell you to stay away from horses for a prescribed number of weeks – a number that is often viewed by equestrians as a mere suggestion rather than a directive.

If there’s such a thing out there as “Girl Math,” (as I’ve seen on social media), there’s definitely something that exists called “Equestrian Math.” It works for any number of horse-related issues, including falling.

For example, if your non-riding spouse asks you how much a bridle, bit, or new saddle costs, you divide the actual cost by half, add $7, and that’s how much it is.

$500 ÷ 2 = $250 + 7 = $257.  Therefore, the item costs $257 and it was a bargain at that!

The same Equestrian Math applies to healing time for riders.

If the doctor tells us it’s going to be 12 weeks before we heal, we tell ourselves and others that we can begin riding again in “49 days.”  That’s 12 x 7 = 84 ÷ 2 = 42 + 7 = 49. That way, when we start riding again at 30 days, people will say, “Well, they almost made it to the doctor’s suggested rest period.”

See? It’s that simple.

All joking aside, I’m not suggesting you ignore your doctor’s advice.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to pay more attention to what my physicians tell me, except for the whole “find a new career” thing. It’s one of those behaviors that non-horse people can’t seem to comprehend. Once you’re in, it’s like Mob: there is no quitting.

We can’t quit. Not because we don’t have other skills or opportunities but because we’re just not going to be happy doing anything else. By now, I would be one miserable cuss without horses in my life.

You live, you learn, you ride again another day.

Dealing with horses can be a painful experience – physically and mentally.  A few years ago, I was hobbling one of my own horses in a new set of hobbles when things went haywire. He behaved in a way that I didn’t expect him to. I wasn’t paying attention; he stepped forward with a back leg, and things went to hell really quickly. It wasn’t a situation where I needed to leave him to “work it out.” *I* had to work it out.

My miscalculation was costing my horse and to preserve what I’d already put into him, I had to get in there, in between all these kicking feet and legs, and cut rope. I got the shit kicked out of me in the throes of it all. . .and I deserved it. I was lax, I wasn’t paying attention, and I learned from it. I’m so lucky that the lesson was more painful for me than it was for him. He was absolutely fine the second he was released. Me? I was bruised for weeks – both my body and my ego.

Sometimes, as trainers, we get hard horses where it’s not simply a matter of “wet saddle pads.” Once in a while, we get a horse that we can’t connect with, we can’t find common ground. These horses teach us more than the easy ones, you know?

I was working with a horse, a chestnut mare (I don’t mean anything by that, other than a description. I love mares, chestnut or not.) It was a hot day. I was exhausted and hurting, but those are minor inconveniences that sometimes come with the job. We often have to work through pain, discomfort, or even fears in order to better the horse. It’s not a literal “fall,” but we feel like we’re falling. We reach these critical points in our work where we can’t give up. To do so wouldn’t benefit the horse. Forward, forward, forward. We must progress – whether it takes a minute or days, we just can’t quit…unless, of course, it’s decidedly for the benefit of the horse and not our own weakness.  

Later, we may say our hands hurt or our muscles are sore and promptly ignore our significant other’s common-sense advice to use Corn Huskers lotion on our hands or Biofreeze on our shoulders or Tylenol for, well, anything.

Yes. It hurt. I don't do that anymore.

We ignore it because, hey, we’re tough, right? Not in an egocentric way, not a prideful tough. I guess it’s just that the sore muscles, the injuries, the scars are all reminders, touchstones of some lesson learned, some lesson we need to remember.

It’s not for everyone, sure. There are plenty of excellent riders in this world who don’t want to deal with a green horse, and that’s ok. There are people who get kicked or have a fall, and are like “I’m out.” There are also plenty of people who don’t mind the spills and thrills, and that’s ok, too.

Years ago, I was riding horses for a client in Aiken, South Carolina named Marshall; one of the nicest people you’d ever meet. But, God, he had this one mare that kept dumping me over and over and over again. Every time I thought I’d made progress, this little gal would dump me in the dirt. It was one of the few times where a horse made me want to quit, made me question my ability. (Notice: I emphasized “horse.” Believe me, there are plenty of times where humans have made me question why I stay in this business.)

One morning, I woke up and as I was preparing for the day, I thought to myself “I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can ride her.” I almost quit because I just couldn’t get her figured out. But I was young, hungry, and I really needed to get on her.

It was a critical moment for me. I knew I was going to get hurt again, but I decided to just not envision it. I didn’t create a catastrophe in my mind. I told myself that I was staying on, no matter what. And I’m not saying that mindset is what worked for me that day. It’s just what happened. We finally had a successful ride together. From there on out, she and I worked together as I’d wanted to all along. It was one of the best feelings in the world.

 I’m not saying you can bring catastrophe to fruition by getting in your head, but I realized then that quite often, you do contribute to those self-fulfilling prophecies and end up on your ass. That day, I resigned myself to understanding that a fall may come, but if your focus is on being a better rider, on making a better horse, some of that can be avoided.

At this point in my career, I realize my injuries aren’t deterrents. They’re encouragement to be better.

 As professionals, we can’t afford to say “Ow, it hurts” and then quit. We have to keep going for ourselves and the horse. Sometimes, getting hurt is a necessity. After every injury, your subconscious takes notes and, like a computer sending messages with lightning rapidity, programs your brain: “Don’t do that; correct this; be balanced.” The brain goes and the body follows.

There are any number of things one can do to help mitigate the risk of a fall – everything from making sure your skill level matches that of the horse you’re riding, to being fit, balanced, and quick, to making sure you’ve got proper equipment. . .but even the best fall sometimes.

And look, it doesn’t matter how well your horse is trained or how good of a rider you are, shit happens.

There are freak incidents and accidents that can’t be “trained out” of you or your animal.

How many times have you tripped over your own feet and stumbled?

How many times have you choked on your own spit?

Don’t let a mishap deter you. Don’t let things like pride, ego, embarrassment, or even (a little bit of) pain keep you out of the saddle if its what you truly love.

I mean, things happen that are beyond our control: ground bees, earthquakes, armadillo holes, these inherent, invisible, and unpredictable risks hiding around corners, waiting to pop up, dump us on our asses, and try to override our desire to keep doing what we’re doing.

We do what we do because we love it and we want to do it as long as we can. So we ride smart, ride safe, and when gravity humbles us with a face-plant, we do anything we can to get back in the saddle…even if it means one day giving up our “Equestrian Math” and listening to our doctors. . .maybe…but probably not.

Tommy and a Baby Buc-ee.