Is ‘Kick On and Carry On’ still good for horse riders?
Kick on and carry on. It’s like a badge worn with honour, often supportive words we say to each other. A mark of toughness, right? We also call it bravery. And for some situations, sure, it’s important. But in reality, it fails every psychological test for learning and growing. Do these words really make us feel supported when we feel anxious?
Spoliers, it doesn’t work; at least not in the way you think. And don’t worry, I’m going to explain why it fails to support real learning and improve your riding.
‘Kick on and carry on’ relies on bravery, and bravery means doing something even when you’re scared. But… and this is important… it doesn’t resolve the fear. Bravery doesn’t change your relationship with anxiety. I promise you it doesn’t, it would make no sense from a biological and psycholgical prospective.
Take a firefighter, for example. Are you ever not going to be scared about running into a burning building? Fuck no! Because fear keeps you safe, it’s a dangerous situation, but you do it anyway. You never stop acknowledging the danger, it take courage to do it. Bravery doesn’t remove the fear, it just overrides it to do what needs to be done. If we remove the fear, we will take risks that could endanger lives.
Now tell me, why on earth would we want bravery in horse riding? This is a hobby and a joy. Spending time with your horse is not (or shouldn’t feel like) running into a burning building. Bravery means the thing will always be dangerous, always be scary, always mean a risk to health and welfare. I don’t know about you, but my goal is not to feel that way with my horse. I can have moments of Bravery when my horse is sick, and I need to call vets, care for her and fight the fire to ensure she is cared for, but I will still be worried about her.
You can be brave and still be stuck in the same cycle of fear. You can push through, grip harder, ride it out, but learning doesn’t happen in that state. Learning how to be safer and enjoy your horse does not happen through bravery.
If you’ve ever found yourself sitting on a horse with your heart in your throat, believe me, I’ve been there and it was not fun, you’ll know exactly what I mean. I’ve felt like I couldn’t breathe. My lungs actually hurt afterward from how hard I was breathing through each buck, how much adrenaline was flooding my system. My brain and body just wouldn’t communicate. And that’s when I realised this phrase, “kick on and carry on”, isn’t just unhelpful. It’s dangerous. not just for me, but for the horse I loved.
Riding a horse, at its heart, is a technical, nuanced interaction between horse and human. Our horses rely on the subtlety and precision of our bodies to communicate. And when we’re afraid, when our bodies disconnect, stiffen, or freeze, we’re not just letting ourselves down. We fail our horses, too.
So for me, ‘Kick On and Carry On’ just needs to die.
Let’s say instead:
“Go quiet and progress.”
This blog isn’t about pushing through, as I don’t believe that can help you or I. It’s about honesty, it’s about showing up for your horse. It’s about understanding the psychology behind our fear and using real tools to work with it, not against it, not treading water. It’s about rebuilding trust in ourselves and in our horses, one small, solid step at a time.
The Psychology Behind the Fear
Fear is not weakness. Let’s just get that straight, okay? It’s biology. It’s your nervous system. And when it’s firing up, it’s doing its job and it’s doing it really fucking well. When you feel fear around horses, especially after an injury or time out of the saddle, it’s not irrational. Even if you haven’t had a dramatic fall, it still makes sense. Your brain’s job is survival.
Enter the amygdala: the part of your brain that keeps you alive. And it doesn’t care how many years we’ve been riding, it just is
The amygdala It doesn’t care about “kicking on.” What it remembers is what you felt. It remembers the tension, the panic, the moment everything went still. The sound your horse made before they leapt sideways and it tags that memory as danger, and files it deep.
So next time you get on, even if everything is “fine”, your body might not agree. If you tense up, your breathing changes, your gut tightens and your brain starts whispering, or shouting: “I’m not safe.” And then you start to wonder: What the hell is wrong with me?
Let me say this loud for the people in the back:
Nothing is wrong with you.
What’s happening is proof that your biology works really well. Your nervous system is responding to a memory, a valid one. It’s not responding to what’s happening now; it’s responding to what happened then. To the fall, the injury and the absence of control. Thanks amygdala…
The amygdala is reacting to outdated information And the feeling is real, even if the threat isn’t. This becomes complicated because horses feel everything. We’ve trained them to respond to tiny cues, seat shifts, breath control, muscle tension. So when we get tense, they think “Where’s the fire?” 🔥
It’s not about obedience or disobedience, it’s about communication and emotional clarity. Riding is about relationship, and when fear enters the room, that relationship gets messy. Because you can’t have fear without love. So when they spook, move differently, or hesitate, your brain might spiral: “They’re lame again. Something’s wrong. I missed it.”
You stress. They feel it. The spiral tightens.
It’s not about your technical ability, that can be rebuilt. It’s about emotional regulation, about staying present, feeling safe, and giving clear signals. Confidence doesn’t come from forcing bravery, it comes from updating the story your nervous system holds.
Outdated information → Updated experience.
Bit by bit. Ride by ride. Breath by breath. You teach your nervous system that things are okay again. Confidence isn’t forged in pressure, it’s built in proof.
PET: Person, Environment, Task
Now we stop looking backwards and start looking forward. Here’s where psychology meets practicality.
PET stands for:
- Person: You, the familiar and safe presence your horse knows.
- Environment: A familiar setting full of positive associations.
- Task: One clear, simple action. Walk. Halt. One transition. That’s it.
This is how I build confidence for myself:
- Person: I start on the ground. No pressure. Just me and my horse.
- Environment: A route we know. Maybe liberty. Treats. Praise. Relaxation.
- Task: We walk. Nothing more.
No trotting required. No “impressive” ridden work. Just showing up. That’s the key. Each step becomes evidence that things are okay. This isn’t about being brave. Bravery without a plan is chaos. Structure is safety.
Beyond “Kick On”, A Behavioural Perspective
The pressure to “push through” fear doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It mirrors a wider cultural issue in the horse world, where resilience is valued over reflection, and compliance is often mistaken for cooperation. We are taught to be tough, to ride through it, to get it done. But behaviour science, across species, tells a different story: learning happens when safety is prioritised, not when fear is endured.
The horse world is lagging behind here, sadly. While other animal training fields (including humans) have embraced science-led, evidence-based approaches grounded in behaviour, welfare and emotional understanding, much of equestrian practice remains rooted in tradition and methods designed for control rather than collaboration. We talk about partnership, leadership and harmony, yet too often these words are used to reframe techniques that rely on pressure, compliance and the suppression of natural communication.
In dog behaviour, marine mammal training, zoo animal care and even livestock handling, the use of reinforcement, emotional safety and functional assessments are widely accepted. These methods are not radical, they are simply considered best practice. Yet within the horse world, the idea of integrating food as reinforcement, acknowledging discomfort or adapting training based on the horse’s feedback is still frequently questioned. On an animal whose survival depends on flight, social bonding and continuous forage intake, this inconsistency is difficult to justify.
I no longer question whether modern behavioural methods work with horses, we have extensive scientific and practical evidence that they do. What concerns me is how long it is taking the wider industry to accept and fully implement these methods. By doing so it has given me, and my clients confience around their horses and in the saddle.
What Partnership Really Means
The term partnership is used a lot in equestrian spaces. It sounds lovely, connection, mutual respect, harmony, but when partnership is defined by quiet obedience in the presence of underlying tension, we risk confusing compliance with cooperation. Where does ‘Kick on and carry on’ feature in partnership?
True partnership is not about getting results without visible resistance or toughing it out; it is about creating an environment where the horse feels safe (you too!) and supported enough to engage voluntarily. A genuine partnership allows the horse to express discomfort or hesitation without fear of repercussion, again you too. It involves consistent adjustment from the handler based on the horse’s feedback, and it is shaped using positive reinforcement, clarity and predictable processes. In this context, training becomes a dialogue, not a directive.
When discomfort is dismissed, pressure is escalated and compliance is presented as connection, we step away from welfare-led practice and move toward performance-driven interaction. It leave us with only ‘Kick on and carry on’. If we recognise this difference, we make meaningful progress, for both horses and riders.
One Horse, One Rider at a Time
Despite years of discussion within the industry, welfare panels, workshops, policy documents, widespread change remains slow. Real transformation doesn’t happen in committee meetings or on social media. It happens in the ordinary, unglamorous moments:
- When a rider decides not to kick on.
- When they choose to dismount and walk instead of freeze in the saddle.
- When a piece of carrot is offered as reinforcement for connection and trust.
- When a sign of discomfort, horse or human, is met with curiosity rather than criticism.
Change is quiet. Grounded. Welfare-first. It does not seek to impress; it seeks to improve.
You don’t have to fix the whole industry. You don’t have to change the sport. You only have to start with you and your horse, one interaction, one ride, one choice at a time.
Moving Forward
If you’re tired of feeling like you need to toughen up, or embarrassed that fear still shows up, I see you. And there is nothing wrong with you. Your nervous system is doing its job, and your concern for your horse is proof of how much you care. The work now is not to become braver. It’s to become clearer. To update the outdated information your body is holding onto. To choose structure over chaos, welfare over appearance, and dialogue over force.
We cannot change the industry overnight. But we can change the experience of individual horses and riders today. We can choose to ask better questions, to move toward evidence-based methods, and to redefine partnership as something built on agency and mutual understanding rather than obedience or bravado.
If you’re ready to rebuild confidence, for both you and your horse, without having to “kick on and carry on”, I’m here to help. Together we can create processes that reduce conflict, support emotional resilience and allow genuine cooperation to emerge.
