Pine Tree Pioneer or Risk Management

Have you ever started performing an event with your horse and realize ‘Hmmm, maybe this isn’t going so well…?’   (See the Olympic pentathlon this year for a good case study) It is that feeling of risk, either to you or your horse. All equine disciplines have times like this, where circumstances do not simply line up right. It can happen on a casual trail ride where your horse steps in a hidden hole, or in the middle of a show ring when your horse takes a turn wrong and slips.  It can happen when a rider misses a distance to a jump and loses a stirrup.  It can happen when you simply misjudge your horse’s state of mind and willingness to work with you and they decide to ‘leave’ (some horses politely take you to the gate when this happens, others simply unload you onto the ground).  Most experienced equestrians get this feeling often.  It is normal.  What separates the best Horsemen and Horsewomen from the mediocre is how they handle this feeling as soon as it comes up.

Solving the problem of whatever caused the ‘Oh Crap’ moment is a matter of experience and skill, which is why good riding instructors will never go hungry.  But the mental and emotional control is often skipped over in lessons. 

Can you handle risky moments with a mental grace?  Risk management is often about timing, skill, and support.  But mental grace is the thing that ties it all together.  In the heat of the moment of the slip up, can you mentally stay calm, focused and accepting of the outcome all at once?  Or do you get angry at yourself or your horse? Do you lose control and act on non-thinking instinct (and usually get hurt in the process)?

I have lots of time to think about this sort of control on long-distance rides.  When you push you and your horse to your limits, your mental grace will get stretched.  A LOT.  My horse Glory and I went to Maine in August to try and accomplish riding 3 50 miles endurance races in a row.  This is called a Pioneer ride.  It was a well set up ride with plenty of safety measures in check.  I was the only one trying for all 3 days on the same horse. 

Day One went smoothly, we rode according to a plan and finished with plenty of time to spare.  The temperature was reasonable for most of the ride, and we got to play in the river to cool off.  We also rode with a friend, which keeps everyone cheerful!

Day Two was the test.  It was going to be HOT.  I briefly considered backing out, but heat is Glory and I’s greatest challenge.  I have learned much from our other non-completions in past years about how to ride in this kind of 90-degree heat and high humidity.  The River was to be our friend for this ride, offering cooling opportunities not usually available to us.  I made a careful ride plan on how to keep us cool, and Glory is in the best shape of his life.

We started well.  We followed the plan of sitting in the river for 10 minutes before we go into the holds (Which freaked everyone out, they thought we got lost!)  We made it past the first hold at the 20-mile mark.  Then it got hotter.  Glory tried so hard to please me, but he just doesn’t cool as fast as other horses.  The last 5 miles of the second loop was in the direct sun.  We slowed down.  I could feel his body temperature keep rising under me.  We tried to play a weird game of trot to get a breeze, but not too fast to heat up more.  It didn’t work.  When I made the river crossing at mile 34, Glory waded in and then refused to move.  He was dangerously HOT. 

I felt the ‘Oh Crap’ moment settle in.  Did I hurt him (a very real possibility at these extremes)?  I felt my whole plan for the week unraveling.  Emotions poured in hot and heavy. I had the presence of mind to take a deep breath (although this decision really happened in an instant) and decide to STOP.   I felt the mental grace step in, the love for my horse and our connection together pushes all the other stuff in my head away and know what the RIGHT.  I fully accepted the outcome of the entire adventure in an instant.  I came up with a plan to navigate the emotional fall and disappointment.   In an instant, I knew what I had to do for Glory, which was to get him cool and get to the vets. 

The last 2 miles to the camp I slowly walked Glory in on foot.  I drank all my water and was not in a good state when we got there.  (Risk management applies to yourself protection too.  I should have packed ore water for me….) My crew took over and hosed Glory down and his pulse dropped down.  We were out of the red.  I went to the vets, and they supported my decision to not continue the last loop.  Glory vetted through fine.  The adventure was over. 

Mental grace now means navigating the feelings of disappointment over not achieving the goal.  For me that means going to my horse and gaining his love and support.  Circumstances were not in our favor.  I know what to improve on (for me watching the weather closer and giving up on competing him in weather over 90 degrees).  It could have gone much worse.  But the mental grace kept us safe.  I hope everyone out there at all levels can read this and find the courage to work and develop their own grace in the face of absolute risk.  Be a Horseman or Horse woman with a capital H.