Riding Blind

One of my favorite stories to tell is of me and my dad, a few months after I got my driver's permit. I was driving him around the neighborhood, just getting in some practice. It had rained the day before, while he had been out on the road, and some truck had driven too fast down a flooding street and splashed his car. His windshield was hit by a tidal wave, and for several scary seconds, he was coasting down a busy street, unable to see where he was going.

By the time I got behind the wheel the next day, the ground had dried and there were only faint clouds in the sky. We were casually winding through the suburbs, rolling through the streets at 20 mph, as my dad recounted the story. And then he suddenly said, "Close your eyes down this block."

"What?!" I had had my license for a month or two, and had hardly driven. I thought he was joking.

But he insisted. "You have to be prepared for stuff like that. Just close your eyes--for a few seconds. I'll make sure nothing happens, but you need to practice."

It was a crazy idea, and I refused to cooperate. I didn't feel comfortable intentionally impairing myself, and I don't believe I ever will. If one day, I'm driving down a busy street and it's raining so hard I can't see, I'll just have to trust God to get me through, because I sure as heck am not going to practice driving blind. Helen Keller never got behind the wheel for a reason.

But, while my dad's idea was a bad one for driving, the concept translates beautifully into the schooling ring. After all, how many of us have schooled over gymnastics with our eyes closed or our hands at our sides (or BOTH) at some point in our lives? In the controlled environment of a schooling arena, "riding blind" can be extremely beneficial.

And when I say blind, I don't just mean closing our eyes. Certainly, going over a gymnastic or poles with your eyes closed can be a learning experience (and, for the record, I do not recommend going over anything substantial without looking). You learn to develop a feel for the horse early on in your riding career; it can help develop your seat and your legs and, when experience riders put it into practice, it can serve as a reminder that we can get way too reliant on our sight when it comes to things we should be feeling. But intentionally impairing yourself in other ways can help your prepare for disaster--in the show ring, on the trails, or even just hacking around the arena.

It was a rite of passage with my first trainer to learn how to ride when you lost your stirrups. We first practiced taking one foot out of the stirrup at the walk (I was a very new rider and even this presented a challenge) and then picking it back up, without looking, at the walk. As my riding progress, so did my challenge. It would arise randomly, sometimes once a month, sometimes for days in a row. I'd be trotting a circle and have to drop my inside stirrup and then, continuing the circle and posting without missing a beat, I would have to pick it up again. Sometimes it would be both stirrups going down the long side of the arena, others just one at the sitting trot. When I could pick up a lost stirrup at the canter, I was finally deemed ready. The rite of passage was over, and I had gained an important skill--and a healthy dose of confidence. Years later, as I rode with another trainer, I was cantering up to a pretty large fence when my horse jumped from a long spot. I lost my stirrup, but my years of previous training kicked in. I didn't panic, and I kept stride as I finished going down the line, surreptitiously picking back up my stirrup. It was not my superb seat that saved me (far from it); rather, it was the countless practice I had had. I was prepared. To this day, if I lose my stirrup going over a course, or even in a show ring on the flat, as I easily pick it back up, without missing a beat. I like to think Molly (that old trainer of mine) would be proud.

I don't think people practice riding blind enough. Dropping and regaining a single stirrup on the flat, riding a serpentine without reins, riding through a gymnastic with your eyes closed--they seem like fairly simple things to do. But when used strategically, they can help give a learning rider a solid foundation from which to work, and they can certainly help more practiced riders fine-tune their technique as they get back-to-basics. We tend to rely far too much on our eyes, on our hands, on our irons. When you eliminate the basic things you take for granted, you'll be surprised how much is revealed about your riding.

So don't be afraid to close your eyes every now and then. You'll be amazed by how much more you see.