A Touching Tale Focused On Feel

By SAM MADDEN

As a kid who bought her first $250 horse with babysitting money at age 13 and worked off board at a backyard barn by cleaning stalls, I was self-taught out of necessity.

At age 16, I splurged on a $20 membership in Sleeping Giant Pony Club in New Haven, CT. Several Pony Clubbers enlightened my pony path, as did a special horse whisperer after a change of course when I had to regroup to adjust to a daunting obstacle. Then a mentor of the furry, four-legged kind rocked my world, even after we incurred a big-time half-halt in our, rather, my plans.

My Most Meaningful Mentors of the Two-Legged Variety

As a naïve, horse-crazy kid, I bought a 14.2 hh palomino pony named Pasha when she was just four years old. It was unclear whether she had previously been started under saddle or if she was just kind and forgiving. The woman selling her said that she had belonged to her daughter, who was now away at college. The woman didn’t know where any tack was kept, not even a halter. So I gave my little sister, Lisa, a leg up and led her around on the mare bareback with nothing more than a piece of baling twine. No one sustained injuries, so I took my new horse home with the new name Chablis. Sans saddle until a visit from Santa, I developed enviable balance riding bareback with a halter and lead rope for those first few months.

A light bulb illuminated over my head when an older B-rated Pony Clubber named Mary Jane taught me (for $3 an hour!) about alternate leg aids at the walk. What a profound concept! I learned to feel when each of my horse’s legs was moving independently and to time my aids accordingly to influence her performance. Until then, I had been a mere passenger just trying to pose as the perfect eq rider with the perfect anatomical angles so artfully illustrated in all the how-to horsemanship books I’d read.

And who knew you could actually stop your horse with your seat–just stop riding, and the horse would stop? Maybe not Chablis… yet. But I’ll never forget the moment that concept entered my consciousness when Mary Jane gave me a lesson on her friend’s flea-bitten gray gelding, Peppermint Twist. His response to me closing my seat was magical.

Then there was the time she lunged me over cavaletti bounces in the pasture. Mary Jane had me drop my stirrups, drop my reins, and close my eyes as Chablis and I sailed over four fledgling fences with no strides in between, fearlessly and flawlessly. With no extra sensory support to rely on, feeling with my seat became a sixth sense—the sense of touch in my back pocket!

Fellow D-level Pony Club comrades taught me to feel on the fly and think on my seat—my two-point seat. A trio of us entered a class as a field hunt team of three pretty palominos: Missy on Fireball, Emily on Taffy, and me on Chablis. Last in line, I had to make spur-of-the-moment adjustments to compensate for mistakes made in front of me. After the second horse knocked rails and standards alike into a pile of poles scattered haphazardly on the ground, I hurled Chablis over the surprise spread. Our team’s collaborative improv performance won the class.

Off Course!

College happened. Employment happened. Life happened. I had either the time or money for horses, never both. I lost not only my equine focus, but I also lost my sight. Quite literally. At age 29, I went blind from diabetes, which I’d had since I was 17. It was at that unlikely time in my life, living in Arizona, that I decided to get back into riding.

Former Pony Clubber Mike was my instructor at Camelot Therapeutic Horsemanship in Scottsdale, AZ. He paired me with the bay Thoroughbred school horse Acapulco Alibi, a 16.2 hh retired show hunter. Acapulco had easy flying changes, something I’d only done by accident when I could see. Mike coached me to do them deliberately after losing my sight. He reminded me how to feel trot diagonals, since I no longer had the option to get the correct one by glancing down at the horse’s shoulders. He lunged me on Acapulco and counted down strides to a simple crossrail, “Three, two … oops!”. OK, so math wasn’t his thing. Thank you, Mary Jane, for developing my innate feel with those blindfolded bounce cavaletti!

Mike told me to do a flying dismount, which I’d never even heard of, let alone attempted—sighted or not. He explained I was to dismount at a canter. Yikes! I agreed to try it at a trot and miraculously landed on my feet, prompting a standing and seated ovation from my instructor and an onlooker I didn’t even realize was there, a girl in a wheelchair whose lesson was after mine. Their applause and admiration aided and abetted me in feeling unstoppable.

So unstoppable in fact, that I entered and won the Ms. Country-Western Arizona pageant, earning the unique honor of being America’s first totally blind rodeo queen! I hadn’t ridden western much, but good horsemanship had nothing to do with tack. I leased a horse of my own, a little 15 hh buckskin Pinto gelding named Kenos Tomy Tutone. Dial-a-Ride drove me to the boarding stable daily, where I independently groomed, tacked up, and rode Tomy in the round pen. Then, after my year-long reign of rodeos and parades, when I wasn’t even looking, I stumbled upon my most influential coach of all—the mentor who would change my life forever!

Moving Up a Level

Ralph didn’t know what he was getting into when he answered my wanted ad for a boyfriend in a local horse publication. I was looking for a guy who understood the equestrian lifestyle, but I got so much more. He was an enabler!

On our first blind date, Ralph donned his chaps, mounted his horse, and moseyed on down to the stable where I kept Tomy. I envisioned an Arizona sunset framing this cowboy of a knight in shining armor as he rode into my life, kicking up a little dust along the way. I had sincere admiration and respect for him: he trained his adopted wild Mustang to do tricks and ride bridleless—how capable and ambitious! The feeling was mutual, not just because I was America’s first totally blind rodeo queen, but because I could actually ride… or maybe that’s not what he was referring to in complimenting my nice seat!

We rode down to his sister’s ranch, where his old pickup sat in the driveway. There was an electrified enchantment in the air as we held hands in the paddock, surrounded by horses, his Yellow Lab at our feet. I imagined a golden moon dangling romantically, nature’s divine bling decorating the twilight. Seeing is believing, with some exceptions. I may be completely blind, but I’m a heartfelt believer in love at first sight!

This lifelong horseman became not only my partner but my eyes, my coach and trainer, my groom and braider, my boot shine boy and tack repairman, my tailor and chauffeur, my living GPS orienting me to my whereabouts in the arena, and my mentor in achieving those intimidating flying dismounts at a canter. He epitomized the notion that real men are not too proud to wear boots and breeches, although he preferred cowboy boots and chaps.

Ralph coached me to earn six English and western year-end high-point championships with Tomy on three local show circuits the next year, and we even ribboned at the Pinto Nationals in Tulsa—all against sighted competitors! In one crowded indoor rail class at Nationals, he noticed me tapping my ear, gesturing that I couldn’t hear his description of busy arena traffic. We’d never played charades before, but he figured it out. He had the steward pause the class while he entered the ring, stuck his hand in my shirt, and fixed the electronic communication system (allowed with special dispensation) tucked into my cleavage. Talk about a show-stopper! This earned Ralph’s hero status in my eyes!

To show the world I could ride more than a made horse, I gave up my lease on Tomy and bought two young hunter-type Pintos. First, Dare to Dream in Color (Danny) was a gorgeous yearling bay tobiano gelding from Colorado who topped out at 18 hh. I was the first one to sit on him when he was old enough. I left the actual starting under saddle to my sighted partner.

Second, Sugarplum Vision (Zoe) was a pretty four-year-old 16.1 hh chestnut tobiano mare from Arizona. Ralph adapted an audible motion sensor to let me know when Zoe and I were 30 feet from a jump and where the center was. My heart grew wings when we were airborne! After successfully showing her on the flat, I entered a schooling show class with trotting poles, a baby step toward my goal of competing in hunter hack.

Going Pro After a Refusal

Then life happened. Again. Two miraculous organ transplants later (kidney and pancreas—putting an end to eight months of dialysis and 23 years of diabetes), my doctors refused to give their stamp of approval on my risky hobby of riding. I refused to accept their refusal. I compromised by giving up jumping. Life went on, a little more grounded… in flat work and dressage. I felt I owed it to my organ donors to make a difference in life, and the best way I knew how was through the healing power of horses.

We acquired a plot of dirt in the desert and developed it into a successful natural horsemanship teaching and training facility to cultivate in others the confidence to ride bareback, blindfolded, and bridleless; which added finesse to their performance when they rode with saddle, sight, and steering. I had my choice of beautiful project and school horses to ride and show, alongside Ralph’s students. From sticks of steel, he custom-built every facet of the deluxe horse facility I designed. We were named one of Pfizer Animal Health’s national top 5 equine businesses giving back to the community for our charity work focused on motivational pony ride clinics for the blind.

Ralph never discouraged me from following my doubly dangerous dreams; he devised innovative ways to reduce the risks, empowering me to achieve my goals and continually set new ones. What could I dream up next?

My Most Meaningful Mentor of the Four-Legged Variety

Simultaneous with our bootstrap business receiving recognition for its ‘blind leading the blind’ charitable contributions, the moon and stars aligned for Look of Luxury to enter my life as a learned schoolmaster with tons to teach. I was invited to participate in a USEF high-performance para-equestrian clinic in California and could have taken one of our mediocre lesson horses, but we just couldn’t leave our then-15-year-old ailing Yellow Lab, Amber, in the care of anyone else.

However, the invitation emboldened me to begin looking for an international-quality upper-level equine athlete. Not having the money to buy the kind of horse I wanted didn’t stop me from setting my sights high—offering leasing, creative financing, or any means possible to supplement cash, and explaining what we had to offer such a horse: a pampered life at our deluxe facility, Ralph’s intuitive natural training talents, daily love and carrots, warm fuzzies from being a disabled rider’s trusted partner with an important job to do, and fame from starring in not only my life story but potentially also my life story, the movie.

The backstory began years earlier when a promising 16.3 hh chestnut Hanoverian gelding, then known as Luxion, was imported from Germany to Chicago with atrocious ground manners. His elderly owner, Nancie, had a trainer who coached them through third-level dressage but did little to correct her horse’s insolence. When Nancie and Luxy moved to New Mexico, their new trainer, Andrea, sent the pushy gelding to natural horsemanship charm school before even thinking about riding. He came back respectful and puppy-dog polite, making it so much easier to train him up the levels.

Nancie took ill with pancreatic cancer but watched Luxy’s dressage training progress to Intermediate I, two steps away from Grand Prix! She was so frail, she promised her family she wouldn’t ride anymore but took lessons in secret and even took her upper-level show horse on trail rides—all at age 70. On hospice, Nancie arranged to have her hospital bed ringside to watch Andrea ride Luxy in a clinic with world-renowned dressage star Debbie McDonald, but Nancie passed away the day prior. Inherited by her non-horsy son, Luxy was going to be shipped back to a sales barn in Chicago and sold. Trainer Andrea feared what would become of the horse that had treated Nancie so gently, but who could be difficult in the wrong hands.

Once-in-a-Lifetime Opportunity

My email ended up in Andrea’s hands just a week before FEI-level Luxion was to be shipped to a sales barn in Chicago. Her New Mexico clients were all emotionally invested in finding the perfect home for the grieving gelding, so much so that a woman named Felicia decided right then and there to buy him and lease him to me. Meanwhile, Amber, the devoted dog who had been by Ralph’s side the day we met, had a debilitating seizure, and we made the difficult decision to end her suffering just days before the para-equestrian clinic I forfeited to stay home to take care of her. That opened the door for us to travel to New Mexico to meet Luxy.

I saw many admirable traits in the big-moving chestnut Warmblood, not least of all that I could actually sit his trot. He didn’t spook or flinch as I removed layers of sweatshirts while atop his back, dropping my helmet at his feet in the process. His gentle demeanor instilled in me a sense of trust. And I loved his playful personality and the way he licked me nonstop and his random penny-sized white spots—Nancie had sworn they moved from place to place on his body if she kept copper pennies in his drinking water.

It was definitely not love at first ride. It was hard work getting this big Warmblood motivated to move. But I saw his upper-level pro trainer ride him and was determined that if she could get him to perform all the advanced movements, I could learn, too. Me, the backyard blind rider: I could do this! Armed with optimism and a DIY-minded cowboy of a coach, at home I worked diligently daily to actuate and feel progress underneath me. Impressed with our growth in video updates during the initial lease period, the unbelievably generous Felicia surprised me with his Hanoverian Verband papers and passport! Ohmygosh, I’d never owned a German-speaking horse before! Luxy ranks among the top three most influential gifts of my life: a donated kidney, a donated pancreas, and a donated horse beyond my wildest dreams. He was certainly well qualified to qualify me for the U.S. Paralympic team!

Half-Halt to Happiness

But whenever it came time to compete, Luxy would have a meltdown. How could this be, in a horse with a lengthy, successful, international, upper-level show career? We earned lots of blues, but in between, away from home, he’d come unglued. In a display of anxiety at one show, Lux freaked out with me aboard in a small hunter under saddle class in a huge arena as he performed walk, trot, and (surprise!) a strong gallop instead of a canter… frantically neighing nonstop to sound the siren externalizing his internal angst alarm. Maintaining my rodeo queen poise, I kept my frenzied friend’s energy focused forward, galloping around with a big (nervous) smile on my face, not even trying to be subtle in half-halting him every single stride to execute a delicate balance of control without sending him (or me!) skyward.

Luxy had extreme claustrophobia traveling in a horse trailer, which we first observed hauling him home from New Mexico. How could this be, in my jet-setting world traveler? Ralph schooled him daily on loading willingly and relaxing inside, but once the back door was shut, Lux would hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably, sweat profusely, and paw incessantly, no matter what kind of trailer or the number of other horses. Loading up to go to one show, Ralph went to close the partition, and the apprehensive Luxy bolted out backward at warp speed, knocking down an accomplished adult student assisting us, grazing her head with his hoof, and necessitating a trip to the emergency room to reattach her ear.

So I decided to give this gifted schoolmaster a well-deserved retirement from the rigors of showing. I relinquished my Paralympic dream in order to keep my dream horse happy at home. He was more valuable to me as my private tutor. We advanced at our own pace, figured things out for ourselves, achieved amazing things, and had a lot of fun along the way.

We aspired to inspire others on our own turf, on our own terms, on video, without having to stress out chasing perfection and ribbons and scores at faraway shows. With my right-hand Renaissance man, Ralph, as videographer, editor, and sound engineer, Lux and I showed off some of our accomplishments in playful videos.

Luxy’s concentration never wavered when I wore silly costumes while asking for all his fancy dressage moves. We executed accurate circles and serpentines because he made it easy for me to feel the consistency and change in his bend. He launched into an extended trot as if my calves instantaneously activated his afterburner—the same horse I could barely spur into a two-beat shuffle on our first ride.

In his engaged collected canter, he rocked back on his hind end to give me the feeling of floating on air. His canter-to-walk transitions felt like butter (If you know, you know!) Halting without reins was effortless; he was so attuned to my seat. His counter-canter was unbelievably balanced. The precision of his rein-back to canter was impeccable, making me feel absolutely accomplished. But I have never felt such an exhilarating sense of achievement, not caught on camera but memorialized in my muscle memory, as the time Lux and I performed a line of flying lead changes every two strides—the elusive two-tempis!

As my imported Warmblood would lick my salty, sweaty arm after each rewarding, relaxed ride on our home turf, he got a soft look in his eyes, and I would whisper to him in his native language the praise my high school German teacher included on every A+ paper: “Ausgezeichnet!”

About the author: Sam Madden is America’s hottest (Gotta love Arizona—110 in the shade!), totally blind rodeo queen, and horse show champion with kidney and pancreas transplants. And she can type, too! She won Best Screenplay at the 2022 Equus Film Festival with Dream in Color, an inspiring, disability-focused, equine-infused romantic comedy based on her life story… a little funnier in retrospect! Picture Seinfeld draped in National Velvet; and tell your favorite producer it’s available to rake in big bucks at the box office—raring with humor, hope, and heart!