Why I Choose to Ride Without Ear Plugs
There is a particular kind of silence that exists before a horse trial begins. It is not really silent: horses shuffle in their stalls, someone closes a trailer door, a loudspeaker crackles across the warm-up, and a rider somewhere nearby laughs too loudly because everyone is trying to manage the nerves. I have learned that I do not want to shut those sounds out completely.
I choose to ride without ear plugs because sound is part of how I stay connected to my horse, my surroundings, and the moment I am in. Ear plugs can be useful equipment for some riders, especially when noise affects concentration or makes competition feel overwhelming. For me, though, blocking sound changes the way I process the ride.
This is not a judgment about anyone else’s choice. Eventing asks us to make countless small decisions about comfort, safety, focus, and communication. The choice to ride with open ears is simply one of mine, shaped by experience in dressage arenas, show-jumping warm-ups, and the unpredictable atmosphere of cross-country.
Sound helps me stay oriented
When I ride, I use more than my eyes to understand what is happening around me. I hear the rhythm of my horse’s breathing, the footfalls that may be hidden beneath my own movement, and the subtle change in stride when attention drifts. Those sounds are not always clear, especially at a busy competition, but they contribute to my sense of balance and timing.
Open ears also give me information about the environment. A horse may notice something before I do, but I still need to be aware of a gate opening, another horse approaching, a whistle, or a call from an official. In show jumping, the warm-up can become crowded and fast-moving. In cross-country, there may be vehicles, spectators, commentary, and activity near the course. I want my awareness to expand rather than narrow.
That awareness does not mean I ride in a constant state of alertness. In fact, familiar background noise can become reassuring. Once I accept that competition will never be perfectly quiet, the sounds around me become part of the setting instead of a series of interruptions. I can hear what matters without treating every noise as a problem.
My horse’s communication is part of the ride
The partnership between horse and rider is built through many forms of communication: rein contact, leg pressure, posture, breath, and the horse’s response beneath the saddle. Sound is less obvious than those aids, but it still matters to me. I listen for a relaxed exhale, a change in breathing, a sharper step, or the small sounds that tell me my horse is becoming tense or distracted.
There is also a vocal rhythm to riding. I may quietly praise my horse after a good effort, use my voice to steady him, or make a soft sound before a transition. Those moments are not a substitute for correct training, but they are part of our shared language. Wearing ear plugs would not necessarily prevent me from speaking, yet it could make my own voice feel unfamiliar or change how I hear the quiet responses around it.
The horse does not need me to monitor every sound obsessively. He needs me to be consistent. If I am physically present but mentally busy trying to filter the world, I may miss the first sign that he needs reassurance. Riding without ear plugs reminds me to stay available to the partnership rather than retreating too far into my own head.
Nerves are information, not an enemy
Competition nerves are one of the main reasons riders reach for noise-reducing equipment. A crowded warm-up, a loudspeaker, or the general energy of a show can make the nervous system feel overloaded. I understand the appeal of creating a smaller, calmer world. There are days when I would gladly turn down the volume on everything around me.
Still, I have found that I manage nerves better when I acknowledge them instead of trying to seal them away. Hearing the normal sounds of a horse trial helps me recognize that I am at a competition, doing something that matters to me. The butterflies, the hoofbeats, and the announcements become evidence that I am prepared to participate, not signs that I need to escape.
My preparation begins long before I enter the arena. I look over the competition schedule so I know where the pressure points in the day may fall, how much time I have between phases, and when my horse needs to eat, rest, or walk. Familiarity reduces the number of surprises, which makes the remaining noise easier to handle.
There is a difference between regulating nerves and eliminating every uncomfortable sensation. I use breathing, routines, and clear goals to regulate myself. I do not expect the venue to become quiet enough for me to feel perfectly calm. Sometimes confidence means riding well while the loudspeaker pops, a horse calls from the lorry park, or a spectator claps at the wrong moment.
What I hear in each phase
Dressage is often the phase people imagine when they think about quiet concentration. The arena may feel contained, but there can still be activity outside the boards. I like being able to hear the horse’s footfalls and the steady pattern of our work. Those sounds help me judge whether the tempo is holding and whether my own breathing has become hurried.
Show jumping brings a different soundscape. Rails fall, hooves strike the ground, riders call to one another, and the warm-up steward manages the flow of horses. I want to know where the movement is coming from, particularly when I am waiting to enter or organizing a final approach. An ear plug might soften the commotion, but I prefer to keep enough auditory awareness to remain responsive.
Cross-country is the clearest reason I keep my ears open. The course is large, the terrain changes, and the atmosphere can be spread across a wide area. I need to feel the rhythm between fences while staying aware of the people and activity around us. The sound of the wind, the horse’s breathing, and my own voice can all help anchor me when the course feels expansive.
| Riding without ear plugs | Using ear plugs |
|---|---|
| Keeps environmental sounds available | Reduces the volume or sharpness of background noise |
| Supports awareness in busy warm-ups | Can create a quieter, more contained mental space |
| Preserves the familiar sound of the horse’s breathing and footfalls | May help a rider focus on visual and physical cues |
| Makes announcements and nearby activity easier to hear | May be useful for riders sensitive to sudden or repetitive sounds |
| Requires practice filtering distractions | Requires practice maintaining situational awareness |
Neither option automatically creates better concentration. The useful choice depends on the rider, the horse, the venue, and the kind of distraction that causes difficulty. Equipment should support the partnership rather than become another source of tension.
The practical side of an open-ear routine
Riding without ear plugs does not mean I simply arrive at a show and hope my brain copes. I prepare for the sensory environment in the same way I prepare my tack, clothing, and competition plan. At home, I sometimes school in places with more activity so that a bird call, tractor, dog, or nearby conversation does not feel like a dramatic event.
I also try to separate important sounds from ordinary ones. A sudden bang deserves attention. A person talking near the arena usually does not. That distinction takes practice. If I react to everything, my horse may read my tension as a warning. If I ignore everything, I may miss something relevant. The goal is calm sorting, not complete indifference.
Before a competition, I keep my routine deliberately simple. I have found that my night-before routine helps me arrive with fewer loose ends in my mind. When the practical details are settled, I have more capacity to listen, breathe, and ride the plan instead of worrying about what I forgot.
There are also basic comfort considerations. I make sure my helmet fits properly, my hair is secure, and nothing else is creating unnecessary pressure around my ears. If I am uncomfortable before I even mount, every sound will feel more irritating. Good preparation cannot remove all sensory stress, but it prevents avoidable discomfort from becoming part of the problem.
Why personal choice matters in competition
The wider equestrian community can make equipment choices feel more significant than they are. Riders see what professionals wear, hear strong opinions at the barn, and sometimes assume there is one correct answer for focus. Ear plugs, ear bonnets, noise-reducing devices, and ordinary helmets can all carry different expectations depending on the discipline and venue.
I try to resist turning my preference into a rule. A rider who is sensitive to sharp sounds may be safer and more confident with appropriate hearing protection. Another rider may feel disconnected while wearing it. Someone may use ear protection at home but choose differently at a horse trial. The important question is whether the choice helps the rider remain aware, balanced, and available to the horse.
Competition rules and safety requirements also matter. Any equipment used at a show should be checked against the current rules for that discipline and organization. Personal comfort never replaces situational awareness, and a calming tool should not interfere with hearing instructions or recognizing a developing problem.
For me, the decision comes back to trust. I trust my training enough to ride in a real environment, with its ordinary noise and occasional surprises. I trust my horse enough to listen to his responses instead of trying to control every sensation. I trust myself enough to feel nervous without assuming that nerves mean I am unprepared.
A few ways to practice riding with open ears
Building comfort with sound is a gradual training task, much like improving a transition or learning a new line. The purpose is not to overwhelm horse or rider. It is to introduce manageable distractions while keeping the work positive and clear.
- School in several environments, including quiet arenas and busier spaces.
- Practice breathing and softening your hands when an unexpected sound occurs.
- Learn to identify which noises require a response and which can fade into the background.
- Ask a trusted ground person to create mild, predictable distractions during ordinary schooling.
- Check competition rules before using any ear-related equipment at a show.
I find it helpful to finish each session by noticing what went well. Perhaps my horse stayed relaxed when a trailer moved nearby, or I heard a distraction without changing my rhythm. Those small successes build a mental record that says noise is manageable. Over time, the open-air feeling of a competition becomes familiar rather than threatening.
The same approach supports the horse. If I remain composed, he has less reason to interpret a strange sound as an emergency. We can notice it, assess it, and continue. That is a useful skill for every phase of eventing, because no course, arena, or warm-up is ever completely predictable.
Leaving room for the whole experience
I ride without ear plugs because I want to experience the whole ride: the quiet breath before the bell, the noise of the warm-up, the change in my horse’s stride, the applause after a good effort, and the conversations that fill the spaces between phases. Those sounds connect competition to the community around it. They remind me that eventing is not only a series of scores and jumping efforts.
There are moments when I still feel overstimulated. I may need to step away from the warm-up, take a longer breath, or give myself a few minutes without conversation. Choosing not to wear ear plugs does not mean refusing all forms of regulation. It means I prefer to work with the environment, selecting what deserves my attention while keeping my connection to the world around me.
For another rider, the right choice may be different. The best equipment is the equipment that supports clear thinking, safe awareness, and a steady partnership. For me, open ears are part of that steadiness. They keep me grounded in the horse beneath me and in the real, imperfect, wonderfully noisy experience of riding.
Before the next competition, I will keep listening: to my horse, to my breathing, to the rhythm of the work, and to the world we are moving through together. That is where my focus feels strongest, and it is the kind of connection I want to carry into every phase of the ride.