“The Only Thing We Have to Fear is Fear Itself.”  (FDR)

Fear is normal.  Fear is healthy.  It is instinctive for us to fear a 1,000 lb. animal that can trample over and crush us to death.

Most fears are irrational.  It is not irrational to have a healthy respect for horses, and it is quite rational to habitually take safety precautions that are widely accepted as “good practice” when working around horses.

However, it is quite common for people to allow fears relating to horses to get out of hand.  There are many, many people out there who limit themselves from things they long to do simply because of the physical and emotional bondage of fear.  Any person who decides to take on the task of working with a “square” horse must have a logical and fact-based approach to the horse and his behaviors rather than allowing himself to be deterred by irrational fears.

The difficulty lies in the fact that it is easy to believe the body’s response to fear rather than to think logically about whether the fear is rational or not.  This is where our quote comes in.  This is where the rational, determined horseman will not let simple fear or a physiological response be the deciding factor of whether he works with a horse or gives up.

In order to do this, a person must analyze himself honestly and openly.  Some questions to ask:

Can I physically meet the challenge?

What part of my fear is rational and what part is irrational?

Am I thinking clearly or only responding to emotions?

In order to work with difficult horses, you must acknowledge and accept that there will be times when you are afraid.  You must accept that although you will take every precaution to keep the horse and yourself safe, there will be times when you are in danger and there will be times you will get hurt.  If you are smart and mitigate your risks, chances are you will never be seriously injured.  But even if you are very intelligent and horse savvy, there is no chance you will never be injured at all and there is no chance you will never feel out of control or be fearful.

When I began working with my first atypical, reactive horse, I made a pact with myself that I would make my decisions logically and intelligently rather than based on emotion or fear.  If I had followed my emotions, I would never have ridden my mare, Amore outside of a barn, never taken her to horse shows or the beach, and most definitely never ended up with my second horse, the firecracker named Valhalla.  I would have missed out on a thousand priceless experiences, and I would have never discovered that galloping on a powerful horse down a lonely stretch of beach is something worth risking your life for.  Fear is a powerful emotion, but there are others that far outweigh it such as the ecstasy and elation I felt when I heard the thunder of hoofbeats on the sand and felt that my horse must be outracing the wind itself.

Have you ever felt joy that could not be contained?  Giving in to fear means that you risk giving up on far better things than you can imagine.

It can help to have some experiences to build on, and those can’t happen if fear prevents you from gaining those experiences.  The first time I was bucked off Amore, I hit the ground very hard.  I began having nightmares about getting bucked up into the high rafters of the riding arena and having no way to get back down.  Fear told me things that were impossible.  Logic made me acknowledge that the ceiling was far too high for me to reach, much less injure myself on.  This taught me a lesson on how to separate what I am afraid will happen, and what is the worst thing that is likely to happen.

For instance, my horse takes off at a gallop and goes faster and faster.  I feel a surge of fear.  The next time I think about riding this horse, I feel reluctant.  After all, the horse made me feel frightened the last time.  What if this time I can’t stop him?

Now I rationalize: what is likely to happen?  Does the trail have good footing?  Yes.  He is not going to slip and fall even if he goes very fast.  How far is my horse likely to gallop even if he ignores my cues?  With this horse, probably no more than a half mile.  The trail goes up a hill for two miles, so there is plenty of room for him to get tired and stop.  Does the horse steer well?  Yes.  Even if he goes out of control, I can direct him to a safe path.  Am I likely to fall off?  No, I never have randomly fallen off at a gallop.  Now I decide what is the worst thing that is likely to happen.  Probably the horse will spook to the side or stop from a dead gallop.  What are the chances I will fall off if that happens?  Probably 1 out of 10 times.  If I do fall off, what are the chances I will be seriously hurt?  Based on previous falls, I will be bruised and sore but probably won’t break a bone.  I wear a helmet when I ride.

After all this rationalization, I usually feel that my fear is overblown and the risks exaggerated in my mind.  Sometimes this doesn’t stop me from having butterflies in my stomach from anxiety when I get on the horse, but it also doesn’t stop me from taking the horse out and riding.

And therein lies the secret:  All fears have a physical component that reinforce the mental component.  Your thoughts and feelings of what might happen cause the chemical reaction in your body that taps into your “fight or flight” response.  In order to remove the physical feelings of fear, you have to repeat the action that frightened you several times.  Often for me it only takes one or two reenactments of the triggering event to completely remove the physical part of the fear reaction from my body.  Sometimes that means the horse actually does something undesirable such as bucking or I fall off.  But that is what is interesting about our bodies; they can even get used to something you perceive as “terrible” if you do it enough times.  For instance, I used to get a huge adrenaline rush after falling off a horse.  Most people do, it’s quite natural.  After coming off several times in a row, I noticed that my body was no longer releasing all the chemicals and I was quite calmly surveying the ground, wincing before I hit and then getting up without being affected by all the jittery nonsense that comes from having our muscles pumped full of blood and endorphins.

Now, there is a warning that goes along with all of this.  There is a flip side to exposing your body to fears and getting over them.  You also need to use your logical brain to decide if things are safe to do with your horse when you stop getting the natural warning signals from your body that say, “Hold on a second, this might be stupid!”  Adrenaline is there for a reason…it’s a natural safeguard to help protect us from danger.  I’ve personally witnessed with people who ride atypical horses that they can become too desensitized to perceived danger and cross the line into actual danger without realizing it.  Yes, I admit I’ve done this myself too.  That’s why the safest bet is to always run things through your logical brain and analyze the perceived versus actual risks involved.  The primary goal is to keep yourself safe and your horse safe, but without compromising the enjoyable time you can have with your equine partner in adventure.