Crash and Burn

It’s going to happen. At one time or another you will crash and burn. And if you ride horses, that crash and burn might look like a somersault over your horses head and a trip to the ER.

My crash and burn came last week. I’ve fallen before. It’s inevitable in the horse world. Gravity doesn’t care how accomplished a rider you are. There will be a moment when the stars do not align.

Am I an accomplished rider? I would not describe myself with those words. I ride. I am persistent. I set goals. But accomplished? I guess that depends on what you consider proficient. I would give myself a B+.

So it is always a good reminder when I see A+ riders take a spill. It reminds me that no matter how much you prepare, no matter how much training goes into your sport, a horse will always be a horse. And sometimes that horse has an unexpected encounter with a gargantuan horse fly as you are going over a jump in the cross country field.

Imagine…you are in mid-flight, the horse fly lands right on your horses back, you land the jump…and then…BAM!

The bite.

The buck.

And insanity ensues.

Your horse picks up speed.

There is no pulling him up.

A downhill gallop.

Another buck.

And you take flight.

That’s the last thing I remember. My trainer said I did a lovely somersault over my horses head. I hope I got points for good form…although I didn’t stick the landing.

There was a flash of my husband next to me in the ambulance.

Another flash of a white machine scanning my body.

I eventually woke up about an hour later in a lot of pain and a hell of a headache. The news was good. No broken bones. No internal injuries. It was kind of a miracle. Sure, I’m going to have some lovely bruising across my lower back but what’s a fall without a little sparkly technicolor decoration to go along with it?

But, my sparkle brings up something more important. There will come a day…a day very soon…where I have to get back on. And believe me, I have been playing out every scenario in my head. Do I jump again? Maybe this sport isn’t for me. Maybe this horse isn’t for me. Maybe I should just stick to trail rides. Or better yet, a carousel.

Those are all good questions but they aren’t the most important question.

In fact, the most important thing isn’t even a question. It’s a simple fact.

Nothing of value is without risk.

And, frankly, taking a risk is hard shit. I don’t care if it’s the risk of your favorite sport, the risk of a relationship, the risk of a new job, or the risk of a major life decision. If you value it, you better be ready to work at it. And fall down. And get back up. And try again.

Now…does that mean you keep trying an endless, insane amount of times? I don’t think so. There are smart risks and what-were-you-thinking risks. There are calculated risks and irrational ones. And some risks are better left in the trash.

But those smart, calculated risks? The ones that help you get successfully and safely from point A to point B? I think they are worth it every time. And if it’s a risk you can learn from or that brings joy into your life…all the better.

Yet what is often the case is that we take a hit, we experience a fall and we let it define who we are. It becomes the underlying narrative that influences how we move in the world. It undercuts our relationships and our sense of worth. If we aren’t careful, our identity becomes the pain we experienced at the moment of impact.

And we don’t know how to shake it off.

We all know how that feels…to let what harmed us take hold of our hearts and minds and hold us captive to what was. And then we can’t see the possiblity of what could be. We forget what we once valued. We let go of our dreams.

Frankly, that’s a place I don’t want to live.

So this morning, I took a small step. I went out and groomed my horses. It was quiet at the barn. There were no horse flies (Thank God!). I gave my horses treats. They whinnied.

In a few days I will ride again but I will stay in the ring…at first. Walk, trot. No jumps. I’ll see how it feels. As my body gets stronger and as my mind relaxes back into a rhythm I will see where we want to go. I’m not making decisions on how that process should look. I am simply going to let it unfold. But I can tell you with certainty…I am not giving up. This is a risk I am more than willing to take.

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