Horse-riding cost me my leg. But the horses themselves have given me a wonderful life. In 1988, I was riding in a point-to-point. My horse – he was called Recycled – was in front with just three fences to go. Then he did a U-turn and I ended up on the ground with a smashed ankle. Eighteen years on, after 10 operations, I had no choice but to have my injured leg amputated.
Now I’m an equine sports massage therapist. Hopefully the work I do now goes some way to keeping horses sound, supple and in good physical health. In the process, this helps keep them on their feet, and other jockeys in one piece.
As a teenager I wanted to be a dancer or an actress. I was even accepted for drama college. But I had been riding since childhood at the pony club. At 17, I had my first ride in a point-to-point. I fell in love with racing. I won two point-to-points, and rode at Ascot, Wincanton, Chepstow and Sandown.
I was 22 when I had the fall at Larkhill point-to-point. I was going to win easily – then, when my horse whipped round, I instead felt my ankle break in the stirrup. When my foot hit the ground, the bone shattered. To be precise, the break was called a Hawkins B, Type 2 fracture. This was very common in the first world war among pilots who crash-landed.
After the accident, I was in plaster and on crutches for about two years. The first operation was to manipulate the bones in my foot. Then, while I was on morphine, which made me hallucinate, I jerked my leg up off the bed and brought it down again, landing on the heel. Next, surgeons tried to pin and wire the ankle. Over the course of the next 15 years I had several more operations, nine in all. I always had high hopes the next one would do the trick. Eventually, the bone died, and the only option was to lose the limb. It was May 3 2006.
Following the fall, I was still able to work in a family grain business as the haulage manager. But I retained an interest in racing. All the while, my lower leg was wasting away, while the other one, which carried most of my weight, became over-developed. Using crutches for so long made my neck and shoulders incredibly sore, so I had some massage. The third session of this released huge emotions in me. I wept. But I also realised the power of massage. So I trained as a sports massage therapist, eventually qualifying in 1995 to work with horses.
Soon after the amputation, and once I had an artificial limb fitted, I started running. This was something I hadn’t done in 20 years. I became very active. I went back to work. Shortly after that, I had a setback, and spent three more months in a wheelchair. It was heartbreaking. I do still have days when I have to use a wheelchair and I also spend a fair few evenings in one. But, critically, the amputation improved things. The surgery saved me from what was a life of chronic pain.
There was something even better than running to come. At the end of 2006, after many setbacks, I rode again. The experience was very emotional. Horses are such special and intelligent creatures. No two are the same. Actually, it’s hard to explain the relationship that can exist between horse and human. When you massage a person, in some respects, they take from you. But horses give back to you tenfold. Equine massage can be a little uncomfortable at times, and some horses can be reluctant at first. Then, after a few sessions, they put their trust in you.
Even more important than riding and horses, I can now pick up my son Jamie, who is six. Before the amputation and being fitted with a fabulous artificial limb, the pain was excruciating. Lifting him was impossible. Now we can kick a football or play rugby together. Would I mind if he rode? Actually he was on a pony for the first time this month.