My friend Lee has one, as do my saddle pals, Sandy, Karen, Maria, Allena, Tony, and Layne. I have one, but it’s not very big yet. I haven’t had mine that long, compared to how long some of the others have had theirs. What is this thing that we all have in common? Well, it’s not a good thing, and no one I know wants theirs. It’s a bum back.
If you still have any doubts that riding horses and bad backs go hand-in-hand, just ask a rodeo bronc rider about his back. While the rodeo fans sit in the stands cheering and wondering what it is that causes those crazy fools to ride vertical horses, we equestrians know at least part of the answer. It’s a “pride thing.”
Pride makes you get on that green horse on a cold morning after he’s had a week off. Most certainly it is pride talking when you say to yourself, “If I take him in the round pen now, I’ll keep my riding buddies waiting. Just this once, I’ll warm him up on the trail.” Or, “She’s old enough now, I shouldn’t have to longe her before every ride.” Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t words appear when our mind makes bets our bodies can’t cover. Yes, pride is most surely the enemy of a strong and healthy back.
Some bum backs are trophy reminders of near-fatal wrecks. My friend Allena got hers when she bailed off a runaway horse just before he plunged off a cliff on the Hawaiian island of Molokai. (Have you seen those cliffs?) She landed on the hard ground, sustaining a hairline fracture of the lower back, further aggravated by the three-mile crawl she made to get help. Although she tells her story with much humor and enthusiasm, one can’t help but notice the jumbo-sized bottles of Motrin and Aleve sitting on her kitchen counter.
Some back injuries are residuals from a rash and callous youth. As a teen, Layne got all the
“What gets me is that I rode all that rough stock for free!” she laments. “They should have paid me or gotten a professional trainer to do that work.” In her heart, she knows that no amount of money would have compensated for having the spinal discs of an octogenarian.
Indeed, most trainers of a certain age tend to walk with a “cowboy gimp.” I once spent a week sitting in the stands at the Quarter Horse Congress
“Young horses,” many of them agreed.
“Gates and youngsters,” said one old roper morosely. “I got
“One horse dumped me in the sale pen in front of about 500 buyers,” offered a third trainer, shaking his head. “I ended up keeping him, and it’s funny, that was the first and last time that horse ever bucked.”
Given the speed and athleticism involved in most competitive sports, falls are inevitable for both professionals and amateurs. The commonality of most horse-related accidents is the suddenness with which they happen. In those cases, it’s not so much what you know but what you can do in time.
Perhaps even more at risk for capsizing is the hunter/jumper rider. Any time a horse leaves the ground and then returns to it, the equestrian is subject to all the known laws of physical science.
At first glance, the safety gear for English events—mandatory helmets for all disciplines, vests for all jumping—would seem to provide more protection for the rider. However, until we can create the equivalent of a children’s bounce palace on an Olympic jump course, we all know that the risk of life-changing injury will persist.
The 1995 accident that crippled “Superman” actor Christopher Reeve is a perfect example of the quixotic, “stuff happens” nature of horse accidents. A news item on the incident reported that Reeve was “considered an able rider and a proponent of equestrian safety and was about to pose for a safety poster sponsored by the U.S. Combined Training Association.”
Unfortunately, two elements created a tragic perfect storm for Reeve as an equestrian…size and speed. He was rather large for the sport of three-day-eventing. At the time of the accident, he was riding a jump course at a competitive speed. When his well-trained and seasoned horse felt he just couldn’t jump the three-and-a-half foot obstacle in front of him, the animal’s self-preservation kicked into gear and he stopped short. Not even Superman could have stopped Reeve’s 6’4 and 225-pound frame from hurtling headfirst over the horse’s shoulder. The laws of physics will and do prevail.
So, how can you reduce the risk of injury—to backs or other body parts—that we face every time we mount up? The first step is to implement some personal risk management policies. Even if you’ve worked miracles with your own horse, don’t let it get around that you ride rough stock. Instead, send your friends with rank or untrained horses to reputable trainers or introduce them to one of the natural training methods that stress partnership and communication on the ground before you mount up.
Be sensible. Make friends with your age and with your body’s limitations. Remember Chris Reeve’s legacy, swallow your pride, and admit that you aren’t superhuman.