When Maddie was two, she was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, but now doctors believe she suffers from a dystonic movement disorder, which has similar symptoms. She finds it difficult to speak, she has limited control over her muscles, and has poor co-ordination and balance. Yet on Saturdays she commands Sam around the arena at the Arrow Riding for the Disabled group in Dartford, Kent, at a walk and – if Sam’s feeling frisky – a trot. A team of qualified helpers walks beside Sam as she rides, but no one hangs on to Maddie – she is determined to ride alone.
“It’s a dangerous sport but she can do it,” says Nikki, her mother. “When she’s on a horse, she looks no different from anyone else.”
Nikki stumbled across the Riding for the Disabled Association (RDA) when Maddie was seven, and had begun to realise that she was different from the other children in her class. She attends a mainstream primary school, but finds it difficult to write and can’t dress herself or run around the playground; and back then, she was still struggling to walk.
“Her left hand and arm are completely useless to her, and she has limited use of her right hand,” Nikki explains. “She is prone to falling over and has no way of saving herself. I like to keep hold of her when we’re outside as, if she does fall over, the injury will be that bit worse.”
When Maddie began to ask heartbreaking questions – why am I like this? What have I done? – Nikki decided the time had come to expose her to other disabled children. “She’d been mainstreamed the whole way through, which is great but it does have its down side,” she says. “I looked around for local disabled groups and came across the Arrow Riding Centre. When I told Maddie, she grabbed it with both hands.”
The Arrow is one of 500 establishments across Britain where children and adults with physical or learning disabilities can learn to ride. As with all RDA groups, it’s entirely self-funded, and is run by Val Blake and a team of trained volunteers. Nikki pays £14 for each of Maddie’s private lessons, just 10 per cent of the cost. Each year, the Arrow has to raise more than £100,000 to run the yard, shoe the horses, maintain the buildings and pay veterinary bills.
The 15 horses peering over stable doors, or grazing in paddocks at the Arrow, have been chosen for their placid temperaments. There are Thelwell-type ponies like Sam, cobs and thoroughbreds. “They’re definitely not Dobbins, they just know their job,” says Anita Claridge, Maddie’s instructor. “They learn to be patient; I think they understand that they’ve got someone on top of them who needs to be looked after.”
That said, riding is still a high-risk occupation – even for the able-bodied. The most bomb-proof pony can get startled, or snatch its head down for a mouthful of grass. For a child such as Maddie, with unsteady balance and poor muscle tone, who can’t put her feet into stirrups or sit on a conventional saddle, learning to ride is even more of a challenge.
Still, Maddie doesn’t get scared; even though there have been a couple of hair-raising moments. “I’m really brave. I don’t get nervous on Sam,” she says. This ballsy, “I’ll show ’em” attitude is typical of disabled children, according to Anita. “They’re much more ambitious than the able-bodied; they’ve got a point to prove.”
Nikki isn’t horsey herself but it brings tears to her eyes watching Maddie ride. “It’s wonderful seeing how much straighter she sits when she’s in the saddle,” she says. “Her hips are in the perfect position. That’s the beauty of riding; it’s physiotherapy without realising it.”
Up to 40 per cent of RDA participants start riding after being referred by a physiotherapist or other specialist. Each rider is assessed by an RDA physio before their first lesson to pair them with a suitable horse and ensure they are using the right equipment.
“It’s crucial that a physio works out what is safe and comfortable to do and what exercises their instructor can do to improve their condition,” says Lynn Lawford, a physiotherapist who works with the Dyffryn Ceiriog group at the Clwyd Special Riding Centre near Wrexham. “But it’s amazing how quickly you can start to see results; it can be the difference between sitting in a wheelchair and walking.”
Maddie’s walking has improved dramatically – she moves particularly fluidly in the hours following a lesson. But riding has also helped her in other respects: it has strengthened her core muscles, helping her to balance. And telling Sam to “whoa”, “halt” and that he’s a “good boy” improves her speech.
“Maddie gets a thorough physical and mental workout. If you put her in a hospital room for an hour’s physio, she’d hate it because it’s boring and it hurts. You stick her on a horse and she’s up for it,” says Nikki. Of course, to Maddie, Sam is much more than an exercise bike. He’s now one of her best friends and a glorified pet; she helps to groom him after riding, and is convinced he recognises her when she arrives at the yard.
Just recently, Maddie has made another friend through riding called Libby, who is the same age and has similar disabilities; a few weekends ago, they had a sleepover together in the Adams’ sitting room with movies and popcorn. “They understand what each other is going through and chat about the things that worry and affect them,” says Nikki. “Parents with able-bodied children aren’t necessarily prepared to have a disabled child to stay – which I understand – but now Maddie can do sleepovers, too.”
Armed with a social life and a hobby, Maddie’s confidence has reached new levels; so much so that a few months ago she volunteered for the school talent contest. Her mother was beside herself with worry; particularly when Maddie told her that she was convinced she would win.
“It’s the children who vote and I didn’t want Maddie to get the sympathy vote, or be disappointed,” Nikki says. “But her teacher told me that I must let her enter and then deal with the consequences.”
Maddie stood up on stage and did a simple dance; walking slowly in circles, and moving from one foot to the other. “Bearing in mind when she started at school she couldn’t walk at all, this was pretty amazing,” Nikki says. But what clinched her the first prize in the competition was the song she’d chosen to dance to – Ordinary Girl by Miley Cyrus. “She’s clearly not silly,” Nikki says. “All her classmates recognised that, for Maddie, standing up there like anyone else showed enormous talent.”
Last year Maddie met her heroine Sophie Christiansen, 23, at the Riding for the Disabled AGM and stared in awe at her gold and bronze Paralympic medals. “She hopes to follow in her footsteps,” says Nikki. “My heart is already in my mouth.”
Given Maddie’s determination, Anita doesn’t see any reason why she can’t compete at a high level one day; RDA’s ethos is to find an ability out of a disability, and a couple of children at the Arrow are riding at national level. “If she gets to the Paralympics, I’ll have to go and hide,” Anita says. “There’s no leader or no side-helper.” But this is the type of challenge that children like Maddie thrive on.
Sadly, the waiting list for a place at an RDA Group such as the Arrow is long. Countless more disabled people like Maddie might benefit from learning to ride, but the charity urgently needs funding to train up volunteers and instructors, and pay to keep the horses in top condition.
For Maddie, the best thing about riding is that it puts her on a par with able-bodied girls her age. “When I’m on a horse, I feel alive,” she says. Her family has got used to the fact that after a visit to the Arrow, Maddie spends the rest of the weekend chattering about Sam. “When we were driving to the stables last Saturday she said: 'Is this really happening, Mum? I keep wondering whether it’s actually a dream?’”
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