The Ride That Changed Everything
I Don’t Ride Without Nerves: Fear, Focus, and the Trail Between
About six months after I discovered gravity in the Three Sisters Wilderness, and after surgeons had put me back together, I swung a leg over my mule and realized something had changed.
That was nine years ago now.
Time sands down the sharp edges of a story, but it doesn’t erase the lesson. The bones in my shoulder healed into something that resembles a jigsaw puzzle on X-ray. Surgeons rebuilt it. Time reinforced it. My mind and confidence, however, did not rebound so easily.
That first ride back is still a sharp memory. My arm felt unreliable, but that wasn’t the real issue; my anxiety was. The challenge was the surge that hit my chest before I even settled into the saddle. My heart pounded. My breathing stalled. Vision narrowed. My brain, eager to protect me, began replaying worst-case scenarios like a film I hadn’t agreed to watch. The joy that I remembered feeling in the saddle was replaced with fear.
I’ve always been tightly sprung, that wasn’t new. But this level of anxiousness and fear in the saddle was.
The backcountry isn’t a groomed arena. Terrain shifts. Weather arrives unannounced. Wildlife appears. Horses spook. Help is measured in miles. Your brain registers those variables long before your ego does.
When the alarm system engages, adrenaline follows. Heart rate rises. Breathing quickens. Attention sharpens. These aren’t flaws in the design. They’re survival features.
Anxiety is not a weakness. It is awareness created to protect.
Without it, we take foolish risks. We skip checking cinches. Ride into storms without rain gear. We forget to tell anyone where we’re headed. A healthy edge makes you pause at the trailhead. It makes you study a narrow stretch of trail. Motivates you to prepare and be better. It makes you pack what you hope you won’t need.
When Fear Works Against You
But there is a tipping point.
When fear climbs too high, the brain shifts from thoughtful decision-making to raw survival mode. Tunnel vision sets in. Fine motor skills degrade. Riders who have handled difficult terrain for years suddenly say, “I just locked up.”. It transforms a once fun and joyful experience into a terrifying and painful one.
Understanding the machinery takes some of the power out of it. You stop being afraid of the reaction itself.
Instinct vs. Panic on the Trail
There’s also a difference between instinct and panic. Instinct is calm and clear. It says, “This trail is too slick today,” or “My horse feels off.” Panic is loud and vague. It says, “Everything is dangerous.” “You can’t do this.” Experience teaches the difference when we’re paying attention.
Rebuilding Confidence After a Fall
After my fall, I didn’t try to overpower fear. I rebuilt confidence the same way I teach riders to build skill: preparation and repetition. Baby steps to being stronger than before.
My first rides back were short and deliberate. Sometimes, they were nothing more than sitting quietly in the saddle and letting my nervous system settle. Confidence isn’t bravado. It’s familiarity. The brain calms when it recognizes something as known instead of unknown.
Preparation Reduces Anxiety
Preparation became my antidote to uncertainty. I checked tack carefully. Carried what I might need. Let someone know my route. Practiced obstacles at home before meeting them miles from the truck. Each uneventful ride told my brain, ‘You’ve handled this before and you can do it again.
It was slow. Slower than pride prefers. Humbling like only the backcountry and equines can.
Managing Anxious Thoughts in the Saddle
Anxiety often grows from thoughts rather than facts and what ifs, but when left unchecked multiplies the what ifs to disasters and insurmountable situations. I learned to answer them with evidence instead of imagination. I know I have the skills and learned to talk myself into believing I did to answer those questions. I’m prepared and I’ve handled difficult rides before. That isn’t blind optimism. It’s a disciplined and reasonable fact.
Simple Tools to Stay Calm
Breathing helps. Slow inhale through the nose. Slow exhale through the mouth. That simple act nudges the nervous system toward calm. Grounding helps too. Notice what you see. What you hear. What you feel under the saddle. Using all your senses. Anxiety lives in future uncertainty. Competence lives in present awareness.
A Conversation Worth Having
Recently, while leading trail riding and expo clinics, I met Carol von Michaelis, PhD, PA-C, a medical provider and a rider who has also dealt with a history of riding anxiety. Part of her focus has looked at the science behind fear and how to overcome it when it stops you from doing what you love to do. Over coffee and conversation, we realized I’m not the only rider who has wrestled with anxiety in the saddle.
So, we’re putting together a trial run of talks at some upcoming clinics. Not to eliminate nerves. To understand them, help embrace them and help riders work with them instead of fighting them. To help get back to enjoying your ride.
Riding With Nerves
Nine years out, I don’t ride without nerves.
I ride with them. Some days are better than others; some nerves are more understandable than others.
Anxiety didn’t end my riding. It refined and sharpened it. Noticing made me slower at the trailhead and steadier in the saddle. It made me less impressed with confidence and more respectful of preparation.
Courage, I’ve learned, isn’t the absence of fear. It’s the decision to move forward, prepared and steady anyway.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a mule to saddle.
If you’re looking for practical horse training ideas that hold up outside the arena, start at TrailMeister.com. You’ll find trail maps, safety guidance, and the largest horse-camping directory in the country, all built for people who actually ride out.
If you want the deeper dive, thinking through trail safety, preparation, and decision-making from A to Z, my books are available through Amazon and on my website: www.TrailMeister.com
The ABCs of Trail Riding and Horse Camping
It’s a Cinch!
Daily Wisdom from the Saddle
They’re not about shortcuts or silver bullets. They’re about what works, lessons learned the hard way, and the long view that only comes from miles in the saddle. Same work. Just written down for when you need a reminder.
