The first time I heard the words "therapeutic horseback riding" I was at a support playgroup meeting for my son, Matthew, who has Asperger Syndrome. I was there for my son so he could have some fun with his peers and did not think that I would learn something to help myself. Married and the mother of six children, I was born three months premature and diagnosed with cerebral palsy when I was about 2 years old. When I was younger I was much more mobile and could walk unaided most of the time and was not as dependent on people or things—such as walkers and wheelchairs—in order to get around. Somewhere along the way my ability to balance declined considerably.

At the support playgroup meeting I was sitting on a couch, having coffee, next to a woman I had never met before. As we chatted I found out that Jo happened to work for United Cerebral Palsy. During our conversation I asked her if she knew of any exercise I might try that would help me with my balance. The first words out of her mouth were "therapeutic horseback riding". Yeah, right. How could someone who had no balance get on a horse and learn balance? She tried to explain the dynamics of it all, but I was skeptical. I was kind of hoping that she would have suggested something a little closer to the ground! As soon as I heard the words "therapeutic horseback riding" though, it was if a light bulb went on in my head—the words and the idea wouldn’t go away and the light wouldn’t go out.

A friend later suggested that it wouldn’t hurt to make one phone call and find out about the therapeutic riding program in our community. I ratinalized that I wouldn’t actually have to get up on a horse to do that. Winslow Therapeutic Riding was about four miles away from home, so I picked up the phone. I spoke to Mickey, the Winslow program coordinator, and told her about myself and expressed my fears. She assured me that they hadn’t lost anyone yet—and there would be side walkers to keep an eye on me if I started to slip or fall. OK, but what about the money to pay for the expensive lessons? I was secretly hoping that if I couldn’t pay for the lessons then I was off the hook, right? Wrong! Mickey told me that I could probably get a grant from the township I lived in. But what about transportation to the farm? I don’t drive (another one of my fears) so I would need to find friends or neighbors to drive me to my lesson each week. Again I thought, "Well, if I can’t get a ride, then it won’t be my fault." As you can see I was trying to think of any and all reasons not to get on a horse. But eventhoug my fear was great, that light inside my head kept glowing and gently nagging at me. It wouldn’t let up.

Well, things fell into place so easily. I felt that I was meant to give this a try. My counselor just happened to know someone who volunteered at Winslow. I gave him a call and he was more than happy to pick me up and take me to the farm and show me around. I could get an idea of how things worked and feel more at ease. When I was there I was able to watch a lesson. I saw a young man, who had even greater physical problems, get on a horse and have a lesson. That was encouraging! If he could do it, then why couldn’t I?

My first lesson was very, very scary. I had my eyes closed most of the time and I prayed a lot. I had my doubts as to whether I would be back for another lesson and I think everyone else did, too. After this first lesson, I did a lot of crying. I called my doctor and kept sobbing, "I’m so scared... I’m so scared...!" Dr. Bump’s response over and over was "Chris, get on the horse... Chris, get on the horse..." After our phone conversation I decided that if I did go back and fall off the horse, at least I knew I had tried and didn’t give up.

Well, I did go back again, and I was able to get a ride to Winslow each and every week. One particular lesson I remember very vividly. It was very enjoyable. I must have been on the right spot on the horse’s back because I seemed to be more at ease and moving with the flow of the horse’s walk. I usually hunch over when I sit normally. The mirrors around the barn were very helpful. I could see when I was hunching and I could see when I was sitting straight. At one point I thought I was sitting up straight, but the mirror showed me differently. It felt good to sit up straight. I almost felt relaxed. For the first time, I even let go with both hands. It was awesome! I couldn’t believe that I was actually doing it. When I was able to put both hands in back of my hips—that felt good, too.

I’ve been taking these lessons for more than two years now. Yes, I am still nervous, but the lessons are more enjoyable and less tension-filled. Instead of being afraid to try new things, I am more eager to learn and want to make the most out of each lesson. I knew that my fear was decreasing when I was asked to be a demonstration rider for a conference – and it wasn’t even my lesson day!

What are the benefits of my riding?

• I have a great sense of accomplishment.
• I have been asked to give talks on several occasions to the interns who are learning to be instructors. The last time I gave a speech was when I was in college. Giving talks is evidence that my confidence and self-esteem have increased. I am grateful for that.
• I was told that when I get off my horse Woodstock, I am walking better.
• A friend of mine recently told me that I was sitting up straighter at the table.
• During one of my lessons, Bonnie, my physical therapist had me push down with my heels, alternating legs as a rode around the ring. A few days later, to my surprise, this exercise carried over during a trip to the mall. I was holding on to my husband’s arm while walking. All of a sudden I felt my hip move outward as I took a step. I’m not sure what it actually looked like since I couldn’t see, but it sure made me feel sexy! It only lasted a few minutes, but after thinking about it, I knew it was a carry-over from my therapy session.
• There have also been times when I find myself standing in my kitchen or dining room without holding on to anything. It’s an unconscious thing and then all of a sudden I will notice it. One day I bent over to pick something up on my dining room floor. The next thing I knew, my daughter asked me, "Mom, what are you doing?" I was standing in the corner of the room, raising my arms over my head and to the sides—-doing exercises just like I do on Woody—and without holding on!

These accomplishments may seem like "not a big deal" to able-bodied souls, but for me they represent moments of joy--ones that I will never forget. Taking riding lessons now gets me out of the house every week. I get fresh air and exercise. Yes, riding a horse is a lot of work. But I am with people who understand my disability. The instructors are professionals who know what they are doing. The volunteers are there because they want to help and they know the benefits that therapeutic riding can bring. They see me sit up straighter, or talk, or walk more relaxed after a lesson. They see the smiles and the everyday little miracles that happen in and out of the ring. We all share these private moments of success. Just like me and all the other Winslow riders, the volunteers keep coming because they know it works. Therapeutic horseback riding has changed our lives! I am thankful for the light that is still inside my head encouraging me to ride. And I hope it never goes out.