Something that has helped me to stay sane while working in the horse business for two-plus decades is knowing and believing that Plan A is more of a dream state than a reality.

I take this fact very seriously, and usually with a certain level of amusement. I often tell people that you really have not lived until you’ve gotten to a horse show with a solid Plan A, only to watch a flash flood take place and to witness the judges being rescued by canoe. Or, even better, to arrive at the horse show while the horse show itself (stabling, arenas, the actual ROAD to the horse show) are being built. Like, you are driving in with a trailer full of horses, while a dump truck and bulldozer pave the way for you. (I’ll never forget that amazing and absurd day, nor the Plan B that followed!)

I learned long ago that, unless you want to live your life like a complete crank or stress case, you must have the ability to move away from the original plan, and into Plan B. Or Plans B through F. On the rare day that I make the long journey to Plan F, that means I literally say, “F— it, we need to leave this for another day!” (This is rare, but who hasn’t it happened to?) Having the ability to go with the flow is the key to my happiness and my mental health.

Of course, I hoped that my recovery from my November surgery would go according to my Plan A. It is important to have a really delightful Plan A; you need to let the universe know that you intend to dominate all things, and be flawless in every way. While that exact process may rarely happen, it is good to at least plan for great success.

Trotting was part of blogger Sara Bradley’s Plan A for recovery. When an unrelated injury sent things pear-shaped, it didn’t feel comfortable anymore. Photos Courtesy Of Sara Bradley

I imagined that I would rehabilitate sensibly, while staying as active as safely allowed. I pictured my triumphant return to riding at eight weeks post-op (triumphant as in “not completely tumbling to the ground”). I wished for decent weekly progress after that—riding the easy horses first, then moving seamlessly to the youngsters and then back into rigorous training. At the same time, I envisioned returning to all my regular glamorous duties (full-time stall cleaner, teacher of many riders, shoveler of snow, mover of objects, etc.) I also eagerly anticipated my return to my non-sedentary hobbies like aggressive trail running.

I am proud to say that I dominated the actual surgical recovery. I did not do anything stupid (miracle!), and I had zero setbacks that had to do with my surgery. I was able to stay safely active, and while it was at a much lower level than my norm, movement is movement.

I was very conscious to avoid lifting, doing too much too soon, and I really followed the rules to the letter. It seemed like “Plan A: Recover from surgery with no issues” was going to work out!

However… One day I tossed a ball to my dog. A small, innocent ball. Little did I know at the time, but the tiny “ouch” my shoulder gave, mid-ball toss, was about to send my plans off the rails.

What originally felt like a stupid little pulled muscle from tossing said ball quickly turned into a painful and obvious injury. Knowing that I still had a few more weeks of surgical recovery, I basically ignored it, babied my arm like crazy, and assumed I would be just fine when I was ready to return to work. Which I actually was, more or less, at least for a few days.

I simply did not give Junk Arm much thought. I eased back into my routine, according to Plan A. I hopped back onto some easy horses mid-December (which was less triumphant, and more like “OK, this is not great, we’d better walk!”) Overall, things were pretty good.

The important thing to remember right now, is that Plan A rarely goes as planned. This is NOT a story about a perfect scenario (sad).

Unfortunately, as I increased my workload, Junk Arm swiftly and somewhat horribly managed to extend its reach to my back. Nothing says “you are in your 40s” quite like having a secondary injury happen because you are using your arm like a broken wing.

I would shake my raised fist at you, Junk Arm, if doing that didn’t hurt so much.

For four (yes, four) miserable weeks, I was struck with red hot stabby back pain every time my body bounced.  As long as there was no bouncing, or lifting the arm above elbow height, I was fine. But throw in a little bounce—like, for example, trotting—and it was all over. Good grief.

Needless to say, Plan B took over in a big way and involved a lot of short sets of trot work, only grooming the underside of horses and using all the low saddle racks.

A person does not realize how many activities are bouncy, until bouncing causes drastic pain. Dragging the arena was one of the worst offenders, and running was completely out of the question.

One good thing: The whole winter was a freezing hellscape, so working horses hard wasn’t even a possibility most days. This gave me a modicum of comfort.

Plan C went into full effect about seven days into the stabby pain, when things were not improving. I have had enough injuries to know that before you are allowed in line for an MRI you need to explore every other option. So off I went to get some physical therapy exercises, to see the sports massage therapist, and to visit my trigger point therapist/chiropractor. It was all a bit uncomfortable.

Plan D was to call my primary care physician to make my way to the head of the MRI line at Week 4, if there was still a major issue. And there was. But as things often happen, I did not have time to make the call on Week 4, Day 1. And miraculously, the very next morning, I felt a clear step in the right direction. Phew.

I am currently working my way through Plan E. (We were getting worryingly close to Plan F, but we don’t need to talk about that.) Plan E is the “let’s see how it goes” plan. And so far, that has me riding with much less pain, and more actual focus on training. Plan E seems to be moving in a direction towards full range of arm motion, and being able to lift and reach again. Plan E is going well, so far.

So for those of you who are baffled when a rider seems to go from human stall rest to wining a major CDI with no steps in between, please know that I am baffled too! They might be superheroes, but I certainly am not, and I can sympathize with and understand when things do not following a linear path.

Hopefully it is smooth sailing from here, and I can begin to move away from the Recovery Plan and towards the plans for Competition Season 2022.

I’m Sara Bradley, a full-time dressage trainer, currently freezing in the arctic tundra of winter-time Maine. Most of my time is spent educating young horses and young riders at my facility, Waterford Equestrian Center. (And yes, I do like to instruct mature horses and humans as well, and have some lovely ones in my stable!)

When I’m not busy juggling the day-to-day activities at my farm, I enjoy activities like trail running over actual mountains and running marathons. (Life in the slow lane is not my style!) I enjoy many dressage adventures with my German Riding Pony, Dubai’s Dream, and you can follow this journey on Instagram @dubais_dream.