Practice WINNING!!



GO JOE! 
Thanks to the Haeberle Family for this pic!

  One of the charming things I am often known to say is:

"You're either a therapist or you're not.  If you're a therapist, you'll be a therapist whether you're a licensed, practicing clinician, or a mechanic, or a landscaper, or an accountant . . . or a Cowboy.  If you're not a therapist, no amount of schooling can help you."  And then I write my student loan check. 

Recently, I was whining about how my life does not allow the time I'd like to get outdoors and ride my horse.  It's frustrating because there isn't a sense of continuity - like I'm making progress.  I ride 3 days in a row, and then don't get to touch a horse for 2 weeks.  My treasured friend the "non-therapist" sent me an email later that day, describing an endurance ride.  He talked about maintaining my steady trot all day, then seeing an opportunity at the finish and riding for it - picking up a faster gait and passing the leader to win the ride!  YAY!!!  His point was that I could ride in my head any time I wanted, that it WOULD improve my performance to practice in my head, and that it was more than vital for me to keep that part of me from getting buried under the rest of the junk in my life. 

What he didn't realize is that he made me think about more than that.  As he described my finish, all I could think about was the possibility that in that wild dash for the finish, my horse would probably shy at that Wal-Mart bag and toss me off into the bushes.  Then I started to wonder how other people I admire in this sport manage to pull off that race for the finish.  I've seen them do it.  It's totally exciting!!!  It occurred to me that these people probably practice between rides.  I bet they get out there with their friends and race just for fun, which teaches the horses how to do it. 

imgur.com

Then, because I am so unfaililngly me, I started thinking about the larger implications for life, and the need to practice winning.  We tend to think about the worst case outcomes of whatever we're doing.  In doing so, we practice losing.  We practice failing.  We even practice giving up.  We practice all the things that won't help us win AT ALL.  Kids practice winning in their heads.  They even practice in their play.  They tell us they can be superheroes, or cowboys, or doctors.  When they are little, we call it cute.  When we get bigger, we call it daydreaming, and tell ourselves to get our heads out of the clouds and face reality.  We kill those winning visualizations with efficiency and finality.

I'm here to tell you to get out there and get your head in the clouds as fast as you can.  Your brain will naturally want to focus on the squeaky wheel, so don't worry - it will get plenty of grease.  Make a decision to practice winning in your head whenever you're faced with a problem.  In the meantime, I'm gearing up for my first ride of the season which is, coinciedentally ON MY BIRTHDAY!!!         

A Father's Explanation of Why He Had Horses for His Children

I thought this was so great I had to repost.  Author unknown, unfortunately.  All I know is that the author is NOT me!
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My daughter turned sixteen years old today; which is a milestone for most people. Besides looking at baby photos and childhood trinkets with her, I took time to reflect on the young woman my daughter had become and the choices she would face in the future.

As I looked at her I could see the athlete she was, and determined woman she would soon be. I started thinking about some of the girls we knew in our town who were already pregnant, pierced in several places, hair every color under the sun, drop outs, drug addicts and on the fast track to no-where, seeking surface identities because they had no inner self esteem.

The parents of these same girls have asked me why I "waste" the money on horses so my daughter can ride. I'm told she will grow out of it, lose interest, discover boys and all kinds of things that try to pin the current generation's "slacker" label on my child. I don't think it will happen, I think she will love and have horses all her life.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has compassion. She knows that we must take special care of the very young and the very old. We must make sure those without voices to speak of their pain are still cared for.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned responsibility for others than herself. She learned that regardless of the weather you must still care for those you have the stewardship of. There are no "days off" just because you don't feel like being a horse owner that day. She learned that for every hour of fun you have there are days of hard slogging work you must do first.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned not to be afraid of getting dirty and that appearances don't matter to most of the breathing things in the world we live in. Horses do not care about designer clothes, jewelry, pretty hairdos or anything else we put on our bodies to try to impress others. What a horse cares about are your abilities to work within his natural world, he doesn't care if you're wearing $80.00 jeans while you do it. -

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned about sex and how it can both enrich and complicate lives. She learned that it only takes one time to produce a baby, and the only way to ensure babies aren't produced is not to breed. She learned how babies are planned, made, born and, sadly, sometimes die before reaching their potential. She learned how sleepless nights and trying to out-smart a crafty old broodmare could result in getting to see, as non-horse owning people rarely do, the birth of a true miracle.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she understands the value of money. Every dollar can be translated into bales of hay, bags of feed or farrier visits. Purchasing non-necessities during lean times can mean the difference between feed and good care, or neglect and starvation. She has learned to judge the level of her care against the care she sees provided by others and to make sure her standards never lower, and only increase as her knowledge grows.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned to learn on her own. She has had teachers that cannot speak, nor write, nor communicate beyond body language and reactions. She has had to learn to "read" her surroundings for both safe and unsafe objects, to look for hazards where others might only see a pretty meadow. She has learned to judge people as she judges horses. She looks beyond appearances and trappings to see what is within.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned sportsmanship to a high degree. Everyone that competes fairly is a winner. Trophies and ribbons may prove someone a winner, but they do not prove someone is a horseman. She has also learned that some people will do anything to win, regard- less of who it hurts. She knows that those who will cheat in the show ring will also cheat in every other aspect of their life and are not to be trusted.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has self-esteem and an engaging personality. She can talk to anyone she meets with confidence, because she has to express herself to her horse with more than words. She knows the satisfaction of controlling and teaching a 1000 pound animal that will yield willingly to her gentle touch and ignore the more forceful and inept handling of those stronger than she is. She holds herself with poise and professionalism in the company of those far older than herself.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned to plan ahead. She knows that choices made today can effect what happens five years down the road. She knows that you cannot care for and protect your investments without savings to fall back on. She knows the value of land and buildings. And that caring for your vehicle can mean the difference between easy travel or being stranded on the side of the road with a four horse trailer on a hot day. When I look at what she has learned and what it will help her become, I can honestly say that I haven't "wasted" a penny on providing her with horses. I only wish that all children had the same opportunities to learn these lessons from horses before setting out on the road to adulthood.

What Week is it?

Did I mention my kids were going back to school?  Holy Cow what an ordeal!!  It's not the parenting that's tough, it's coordinating all the schedules!!! 

Anyway, that's what's been going on.  So I've been thinking a lot about time management, and how to orchestrate this production without losing my job, my mind, or most importantly for the self-esteem and well-being of my children, MY TEMPER. 

The rotating schedule:  I often say that in my life, there is time to take care of my kids, do my job, and one more thing.  That one more thing rotates.  Sometimes, it's friend week.  My friends start to get cranky that I haven't surfaced in any form for weeks, and I start getting texts and emails like:  "Are you dead?"  "Are we not speaking??" and the like.  And I set aside some time to spend with friends.  Often, after Friend week is sleep week.  I get tired and run down during friend week and spend a week making sure I get 8 full hours of sleep.  I'd settle for 7.  Sometimes, there is horse week, when I remind myself that spending time with my horses feeds my soul and that I NEED to do that.  It's not just a nice thing to do if I have time left over, it's a priority for me to be most fully ME.  Usually the last week of the month is paperwork week.  It used to be called billing week, but that was when I had the flexibility to keep up with my paperwork more regularly.  Interspersed in there somewhere is usually cleaning week.  Which (who am I kidding?) isn't a week. 

Case in point:  I started this post a month ago.  Sigh.  A few strategies to mention here:

• Accept where you are:  I am BUSY.  I am a mother of 2, have a full-time (plus) job and a farm to run.  There just flat aren't enough hours in a day to do everything I "need" to do.  I have chosen my life.  There are things I could do to simplify my life.  I could move off my farm and live in an apartment, drive less, use less gas . . . but I think those are some big changes to make.  I'm choosing to hang on a little more and see how things turn out before doing that.  The PRICE TAG on that choice is that sometimes, I'm running around a lot and have to bring in my crack team of babysitters to help me be in 2 places at once. 
• Recognize it won't last forever:  While I am actually NOT convinced of this, what I know is that my amazing marvelous brain will habituate over time, and the same amount of insanity will SEEM like less.  I'll keep you posted on how that turns out.
• Do what you can:  I have an awful habit of wanting to do things thoroughly, and the right way, and completely.  HA HA HA says the universe!!!  What ends up happening is that I spend a lot of time ruminating about how I don't have time to do _(it)__ right and I obsess about how it's going to feel to not get ______ done.  Funny thing though, if I spend that time actually DOING something?  Who would imagine that I make more progress than I think!!!  This is especially true with exercise.  My fabulous exercise inspirer Heather Ann and I came up with the brilliant idea that I could set my sights on a ridiculously small number of pushups, situps and squats.  I have a reminder on my phone every morning.  It says "you can do this."  Sometimes, I actually manage to do it.  What I know is that if I try to get all enthused about working out for an hour, I won't even get out of bed.   
• Be kind to yourself:  don't waste energy beating yourself up for what doesn't get done.  Pick the important stuff, give it your best shot.  The hardest part is getting over the power of momentum.  My favorite phrase is "it doesn't matter WHERE you start, it matters THAT you start."  Then I consciously DO something.  There's something that happens in our brains that equates obsessing about something with doing something about it.  Use that energy to think about how great it will feel to have done that 5 minutes of whatever it is you decided to do. 

The effect of using these strategies will decrease the overall level of stress, resulting in less physiological stress and reactivity, less toll on your body, and less toll on those around you. 

 Maybe soon, it will be BLOG week!!! 

Looking farther down the trail.

Oh you are all going to be so sad when my daughter gets her cast off next week and I no longer have time for introspection on my endurance rides because I'm too busy riding 2 horses!  

Sangre de Cristo Mountains
(AKA VIEW FROM BASE CAMP WHEN YOU WAKE UP
- Did I mention I love this sport?)


I rode the Sangre Scenic Endurance Ride last weekend at Music Meadows Ranch, in Westcliffe, CO (they are a guest ranch - check it out!  You could go there!) and I am pleased to report no injuries to horse or person.  It was fabulous quiet time, just me and my horse. 
When I first began in endurance, I never imagined myself a top competitor.  Since having children, this belief has been strengthened as I have little time to train, and am afraid of pushing my horse too fast.  However, I have grown up in this sport, the motto of which (officially) is "To finish is to win."  And we live that motto.  There's a place in the sport for every person from the first place finisher to the last place "turtle" (who usually gets a special award!).  The sub-motto (is that a word?) of endurance would be "ride your own ride," meaning don't get sucked along at a pace that you know is too fast for your horse, ending up in getting pulled (disqualified) or worse hurting your horse.  Ride your own ride is a pretty good motto for life too, if you ask me, but it's not what came up on this weekend's ride so I'll save it for later. 

Music Meadows Ranch



So I rode my own ride.  I used to think that the way to be really safe was to start way behind the "front-runners" and stay back there all day so as not to get sucked along at a faster pace than was comfortable.  Within the last few years, I learned that the big gaggle of riders up front spreads out after the initial melee, and it is quite possible to ride your own ride and start in the front.  You end up riding pretty much the same ride, but you achieve a higher placing.  It is, in the words of Will Farrell in a parody of an ever-so-well-spoken former president, "STRATEGERY."  So Strategery it was.  And thanks to my work with Louis Wood about responsiveness and leadership with my horse, I could be confident that I would survive the start.  Soon, Allie and I found a comfortable spot in between two groups.  By this time, she had forgotten that she was worried about leaving her pal Morgan back at the trailer, and settled into her crazy big 10 mile an hour trot (we believe that Allie and Morgan actually share a brain.  It appears to be wireless, and has a range of about 20 feet.).  Well this ended up with us passing the group in front of us.  The first place group in front of us.  Were we really riding in first place?  ME?  Nah, I'm the one with the two kids who is just happy to complete!!!  But, as I tell my up-and-coming endurance rider daughter, "ride your own ride" means you get out there and do your best on that ride, and compete with yourself, not with the other riders.  Sometimes that's last place.  Today, maybe it was first place!

Home away from home.  That's Allie. 
The tent is for the kids!

 

Riding out in front means you actually have to watch the trail.  You can't just follow the riders in front of you and figure that THEY are watching the trail. Fortunately, the ride managers marked this trail superbly and it was easy.  Still, much of the ride was through sagebrush meadows, where things to attach markers to are low to the ground and hard to see.  As I rode through one particular meadow, I found myself having to slow down and look carefully for the next ribbon tied to a sagebrush.  This is not an efficient process.  So I thought I would try to see if I could tell where the trail went back into the trees on the other side of the meadow.  Lo and behold, once I found that spot in the distance, I saw a lovely trail of pink ribbons clearly visible!  I thought "I need to remember to look farther down the trail."  And I was struck by how true this is for life in general.

We get so stuck worrying about all the things that are happening RIGHT NOW.  Things we don't like, don't want to do, aren't working out . . . and we don't stop to think about the fact that these are moments.  They pass and resolve.  It works out . . . sometimes it just doesn't work out the way we had pictured in our heads.  Sometimes it works out in a way that is difficult.  But it always works out.  Most hardships are temporary and transient.  Temporary may mean 10 years, but it's still temporary.  We could get into some existential philosophy here, but I'm trying to make these blogs shorter.

So look farther down the trail.  When we see events in perspective of our whole lives, they represent a really small piece.  Learnining to accept the ups and down of this grand life experiment leads to a whole less anxiety.  So ask yourself a bigger question:  not what percentage of my life has been spent in this event, but what percent of my life has been spent worrying over events that come and go?  That's a bigger number.  We can't control events.  We certainly can control how much energy we give them.

      

Hey Look!! Grass!



Shamrock Endurance Ride 2012

One of the other things that sets us apart from our horses is the ability to reflect on events.  Thinking ABOUT things that aren't happening at the moment is a uniquely human characteristic. 

For example, horse people OFTEN speculate on how our horses comment on our activity.  At endurance rides, I often think my horse might say "good grief.  She hauls us in the trailer for 4 or 5 hours to this amazing field of perfect green grass, then she rides AWAY from that . . . only we don't go anywhere, just in a circle to come right back to the grass!  HUMANS!"  Their idea of a great weekend would be just munching grass the whole time.  To heck with this trotting business. 

If you ride long enough, you get hurt.  I always tell people who have just started riding (especially kids) that when (note not IF) you fall off the first time, you get your cowgirl/cowboy patch.  After that, every time you fall off you get a stripe to go under that patch.  No matter how long you've been riding, you know that there's always a chance that today is the day you're going to crash.

Yep.  Recently, I went on a ride and it happened to me.  I don't get stripes very often anymore, fortunately, but this one was a winner.  Now the other thing to know about horse people in general and endurance riders in particular is that Endurance Riders don't quit. Injuries are badges of honor.  A friend recently told me that AERC (American Endurance Ride Conference) actually stands for "All Endurance Riders are Crazy."  She's an endurance rider too.  And of course we finish the ride unless we're being air-lifted out on a stretcher.  Tough or Stupid?  You decide. 

About 3 miles from the finish, it happened.  Allie and I were coming out of the last pond after having a really great drink.  It was a no-brainer.  I reined back 2 steps (which was uphill) and cued her to turn on her hindquarters to bring her feet out of the mud and head back down the trail.  She responded like a champ.  And then something happened and her hind feet slipped.  Her back end went right out from under her and she fell hard on her right side.  And on my leg.  With the stirrup in between us.  Ouch.  It happened so fast I didn't even have time to be scared.  (Or maybe I've fallen so much in 15 years of riding that I've habituated to it!)  I got up and collected my horse, and decided that thankfully my leg did not seem to be broken.  We started to walk down the trail back to camp.  At some point I decided I was ok to get back on, and that I'd rather ride than walk.  So I did.  Allie seemed no worse for wear.  She was pulling my arms out of the sockets, whinnying, and trying to get back as fast as I would let her.  Yep.  It hurt.  But I'm an endurance rider :).

We got back to camp and everything looked just fine.  The vets checked Allie out (which happens during every ride - the vets determine at the finish if your horse looks good enough to continue.  If not, you can be disqualified at the end of the ride)  and said she looked great.  Gave me the big OK to ride her again the
 following day.  We went back to the trailer to get untacked, where my other horse waited, having worn a strip in the grass from pacing all day and missing her pal. 

My friends came around to help, and asked how my ride was.  I regaled them with the story of my adventures and proudly displayed the bulging bruise on my thigh.  I must have retold that story 10 times.  It's what we do.  Humans process through repetition.  We tell stories and create legends.  This was actually the 20th anniversary of this particular ride (To see the web page for this ride click here) and we sat around the candles (there was a burn ban - no bonfire this year) that night and told stories of rides we'd ridden and adventures we'd had.  Until it was very late.



Allie, after the ride. 
See why it was tough
to think she was just sore?

  Here's my thoughts about what Allie probably would have told Morgan as she walked into the pen that afternoon:  "HEY!  HI!  I know you!  Look!  Grass!"  And it was all over for her. 

There are two things that struck me about this experience.  The first is what a different experience humans have of trauma.  We spend years re-experiencing and being triggered by an experience.  We play it over and over in our minds, stay awake at night, talk to our friends about it . . . Allie experiences it, gets done with it, and is glad it's over - if she even thinks about it enough to be glad it's over, I'm pretty sure it just disappears from her consciousness until maybe we're back at that same spot next year.  She gets back to the business at hand of eating and staying alive.  I think humans do what we do for a good reason.  Our problem-solving skills are important.  However I think we can learn something from my horse.  Be sure to let the experience end.  When we repeat it in our heads, we tend to repeat the worst part.  One of the big things I focus on in EMDR is to be sure to play the video all the way to the end.  That's when it becomes a memory, when we recognize that it's over.  I think our brains try to rehearse the experience so if it ever happens again we'll do it differently.  Problem is, it's unlikely I will ever be in that exact circumstance again.  I've gotten a drink at the same corner at that same pond on that same ride each of the 16 times I've ridden it.  One of those times, I crashed.  It doesn't make a lot of sense for me to put a lot of problem-solving into that one.  It was just bad luck.  So I'm going with Allie's approach. 

Now, the part I did replay in my head over and over was that Allie started acting funny about 3 hours after the ride.  She lay down, and looked uncomfortable, and scared me to death.  So I had the vet come over and check her out, and he suggested that perhaps she was sore from the fall.  I actually questioned him a little bit on this, explaining that she'd been fine on the mad trot back to camp.  Strong, good energy, all the vets agreed that I should definitely do 50 miles on her the next day instead of 30.  (NO WAY).  But as I lay awake that night thinking about what was going on with her (it was confusing because she was eating . . . like a horse.  A colicking horse doesn't eat.  Allie would lie down and munch grass while she was down.  Weird), I remembered adrenaline.  That adrenaline rush of the fall for Allie produced endorphins.  Endorphins make us impervious to pain.  So while my leg was REALLY painful on the way back to camp, whatever hurt on her didn't start till later.  Everything in her little horsey head said that the best idea was to get back to camp to the safety of other horses, and to do that as quickly as possible.  She was probably more than a little irritated that I kept insisting we not get there at a dead run.  Thank you, Allie, for listening anyway.  And sorry, Tom, that I doubted you.  Lesson learned. 

While I'm at it here, I'm going to also put in a plug for Arnicare Gel.  Now, I am not prone to posting pictures of my thigh on the internet, but holy cow!  That's the difference in using Arnicare for 3 days, and not starting until about 30 hours after the injury.  I'm impressed, and will never travel to a ride without it again.  There's a coupon on the website for a dollar off. 

 

 

What's With the Horse Again?

In the horse/human/brain analogy I present here, I'd like to clarify what represents what.  As I ride down the trail on my magnificent steed, I'm pretty much riding an amygdala.  He's a big, fuzzy, loveable amygdala, but he's still an amygdala.  His whole world is about staying alive, and he is a prey animal.  In the world of "eat or be eaten," he is BE EATEN.  Grass is what he eats.  It's not hard to catch.  He doesn't need predatory skills.  He needs to RUN at the first sign of danger, and run FAST.  He's very good at it.  It's a family trait.  MY role in the relationship is to present the voice of reason.  To suggest, through the use of my riding aids (seat, legs, reins, etc) that perhaps there is another alternative to the presence of the Wal-Mart bag than to go flying off a cliff.  I am the pre-frontal cortex, offering support and guidance to my amygdala.  With me here? 



Over the last few years, I have had the magnificent fortune to create a workshop demonstrating this concept with my horsemanship guru and good friend Louis Wood.  In a few hours time, we can actually show people the transformation from a fear-based reaction to a thoughful, considered response.  (To see Louis at work, click here)  We use volunteer horses that Louis has never met before, and generally they come in the picture of fight or flight - high-headed, wide-eyed and ready to head for the hills.  Louis offers some stability and leadership in his relationship with the horse, and before you know it, you've got a horse literally yawning he's so relaxed.  It is a powerful thing to see, let me tell you, and workshop participants GET IT in a really different way than they would if I were sitting in a lecture hall (or in my office!) yapping at them.  Contact me for more info about this.  It's so extremely cool, and coming to a neighborhood near you.  Be ready though, because I can go on about it for a long long time.



Louis Wood

In our brains, we have to use the thinking power of our frontal cortex to offer that leadership to our amygdala.  That takes practice.  Remember, in that moment of crisis, instinct says we don't need to think, we need to react.  All those amazing coping skills?  They live in the part of the brain that takes a vacation when - um - STUFF hits the fan. 

There are a number of ways to outsmart our biology though:

• First is through resolving trauma issues.  There are a gazillion different techniques out there designed to help our brains move the storage of traumatic issues from our amygdalas to the file cabinets in the back room where we don't have to react every time we get close to a trigger.  EMDR is my favorite, mostly because it's what I use. 
• Second, when we install coping strategies, we fill our toolbox with positive ways to deal with stress.  Resolve the trauma isses and you can actually USE these tools in the moment of truth. 
• Third, and the thing my clients get so sick of hearing about, is rehearsal.  We tend to play over and over what actually happened.  This traces that neural pathway over and over and increases the liklihood that when the situation arises again, we will handle it EXACTLY the same way.  I say rehearse it the way you'd LIKE it to go.  Play it over and over with assertiveness, a sense of calm, and devoid of shame and panic.  Practice for the next time, when you want to do it differently.  That's the key, I think.  We tend to think of angry things we could have said.  That zinger that would have stopped someone in their tracks.  It wouldn't.  It would just add fuel to the fire.  What stops someone in their tracks is an assertive response that asks for a reasonable answer.  An expectation of relationship in which you respect both your needs and the needs of the other person.

What a concept.  You can learn this.  And, if you have the slightest hint of larceny in your veins, you'll begin to enjoy the ability to completely undo another person with healthy, assertive behavior full of boundaries.  Because when you invite someone who just wants to fight to a higher level of relationship, they don't know what to do!!  Try not to actually chuckle out loud when you do it.  And hopefully, they will join you there, in reciprocal relationship, and then the sky's the limit! 

Hey Goldilocks – there is no bear.

No, I wasn’t hijacked by a blue dot. Surprisingly, life gets in the way of blogging! Back to the subject at hand.



Balanced

 First, a little horsemanship lesson. Riding, you will not be surprised to learn, is dependent on balance. When I am coaching my kids on their riding, I often redirect them to focus on a point ahead of them and ride to it. “You will end up where you’re looking” I say, “if you’re looking at the ground under your horse’s feet, that’s not a good thing.”

Picture this: You’re trotting down a beautiful trail on your faithful steed – let’s call him Max. It’s a gorgeous Colorado day. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, the birds are singing . . . you’re singing, perhaps. Ok maybe that’s just me. Anyway. Suddenly, your horse’s head flies up, and he begins to shy away from the horse-eating whatever it is off the side of the trail. The HARDEST thing to learn to do as a rider is NOT LOOK. Seems reasonable, right? Horse spooks into the next county, you want to look and see what in the world he’s afraid of! Here’s what happens. When you’re turning your head and looking around for the rabbit/squirrel/leprechaun/rock/mailbox/WHATEVER, your center of gravity shifts and you are no longer balanced in the saddle. So in that moment, you become more likely than ever to perform my own personal favorite – the spontaneous left-shoulder dismount. In this precise maneuver, the rider is pitched forward in the saddle (as their momentum is still going and the horse has stopped), lose their balance, and wind up clinging ever so elegantly to the neck, sliding gracefully out of the saddle, and finishing with an up close and personal visit with the flora and fauna beside the trail. Which in Colorado is often cactus. Or poison ivy. Yeah. Better to stay on the top side of the horse.



Less Balanced.
(photo by Thowra_uk)

  It took me YEARS to learn not to look for the source of the spook. These days, (thankfully) I don’t come off that often. My balance and strength is better. Having said that, my next blog post will undoubtedly be from the hospital in traction. Malcom Gladwell proposes in his book Outliers that it takes 10,000 hours of practice at any given thing to become really really good at it, and I know I’ve gotta have at least twice that many hours in the saddle. So I’m a slow learner. Point is, I’ve stopped looking for the bear. What I know in my highly developed pre-frontal cortex that sets me apart from my horse is that 1) most of the places I ride, the most dangerous wildlife is a coyote. Coyotes are big ol’ chickens and want nothing to do with me or my horse. 2) The OTHER places I ride, where there might actually be bears and mountain lions, I am really really unlikely to run into them because I’m crashing down the trail making a heck of a lot of noise (and singing John Denver songs) and they are long gone before I get there. Thus, the assumption can be reasonably made then that whatever Max is freaking out about is of absolutely no danger whatsoever. Looking around trying to figure out the source of his angst only makes me more likely to fall off, and if, by some rare coincidence there actually IS a bear around, I will probably get the message loud and clear and being ON my horse gives me a better chance at staying on top of the food chain.

Case in point: on one cool July morning on a ride in Wyoming years ago, I trotted over what I thought from a distance was a stick across the trail. When I was on top of it, I realized (WHEN IT MOVED) that it was a rattlesnake. Did Max spook at that? NOOOOOOOOO. Didn’t give it a second look. My friend Carolyn, who was riding behind me, likes to add to the story that she never saw the stick that turned out to be a rattlesnake, but she clearly saw the subsequent 500 rattlesnakes that turned out to be sticks as her amygdala ran away with her the rest of the day. On another ride that season, after spooking at every single mailbox we passed (25 miles on a country road is a lot of mailboxes) Max flatly and fearfully refused to cross the chalk finish line. In his defense, he was only 4 at the time. Horses don’t get smart until 7. Ish. Still. The ride manager was waiting for me with a frosty beverage (did I mention the multitude of reasons I LOVE this sport?), and my silly youngster who had, 2 months earlier, trotted over a rattlesnake was now flipping out over a white line. One of us was motivated to cross it.

So here’s the take-home message: Stop looking for the bear. We are extremely unlikely, in the course of day to day events, to come across any sort of life threatening danger. Your amygdala is a light switch, not a dimmer. It’s on or off. We MISINTERPRET stressful circumstances in our lives as immediate, life-threatening dangers. Our bodies respond AS IF there were a bear. Remember my hero Dan Goleman? The sudden, intense emotional response is out of proportion to the situation. We don’t NEED adrenaline to survive getting a speeding ticket. Once we begin to recognize that those physical reactions in our bodies are unnecessary in MOST situations – did you hear that? That physiological anxiety response is NOT A FOREGONE CONCLUSION - we can start to anticipate that we could handle stressful situations without the adrenaline response. Imagine approaching a stressful situation with confidence. Imagine going in and asking for a raise, or speaking in public, or facing a jam-packed, non-stop busy day or cranky kids WITHOUT that feeling in your stomach. WITHOUT that tightness in your chest. WITHOUT tension in your shoulders. We are so conditioned to the expectation that the stress response is just part of the package, we don’t even consider that there might be something we could do about it. The first step is to recognize, in that moment, that even though we might have been hijacked, we aren’t a hostage.

Practice this today: any time you feel that anxiety, just have an awareness that you don’t NEED that level of physiological response. Think about the fact that you’re having all this physical stuff going on in your body, and there is no bear. Talk amongst yourselves.