Something the horse industry shares with the rest of the world is that there is always something about which to complain!  Whether it is that things are too expensive, shows are too busy or even just helmet fit–there are as many opinions as there are riders willing to express them. Yet the number of riders and trainers who are willing to discuss the issues outside of their own barn doors suddenly plummets to a few voices, who tend to become the face of the entire industry.

Equestrian organizations encourage people to “have your voice be heard”, but, at the end of the day, most people choose not to do so. Whether because they feel it won’t make a difference, or that their interest is low, most people tend to keep comments to the people who surround them. Small banter at lessons never moves past the arena gates, and the industry plods forward – desperate for feedback it doesn’t get.

There are individuals who speak up, of course. Riders, trainers and owners often voice their opinions on everything from rule changes to training techniques to apparel, and even if you don’t agree with them on every point, they often have interesting things to say.  However, too often this never moves beyond our own Facebook pages. We may think that by posting a status we are eliciting change in our industry, but the reality is, we are speaking to our own audiences. If we continue to express our views mostly to our closest friends and clients, we don’t open a discussion in a place where real change can be made. I think it is important to push beyond our comfort zones to have our voices be heard at the state and national organizational levels.

That said, getting involved can be difficult. As much as organizations claim they want input, the process can be mired in “popularity contests” and crowded feedback pages. Some organizations that say they want your help are sometimes so bogged down it is impossible to figure out how to be involved. Others claim to want new people but continue to see the same faces in their leadership roles. Members often don’t know what these people do, who takes the time to get involved, how they vote or if they fulfill the responsibilities they are given. Grumbling that “it’s always the same people” in leadership overshadows the fact that newcomers fail to run because they feel they’ll never get the needed votes.

I have a passion for my industry, and a difficult time not speaking up when presented with the multiple issues we are faced with in horse care, showing, training and teaching. I think the process of speaking to, and with, my fellow horsemen is exciting and interesting, and I passionately want to be involved in the process of continuing to better our sport – yet, even with a strong drive to be involved, I have found it hard to break into the circle.

So how do we get involved–and have it matter?

• First: Put aside the idea that it isn’t worth it, that it doesn’t matter or that I “just don’t have time”. I “don’t have time” as much as the next guy, yet I attend board meetings, conferences, and clinics. My recent participation in the USHJA Jumper Championships was another opportunity to get involved in a program and meet more horse people that are excited about the sport and getting involved.
• Second: Meet people. We have to put ourselves out there. Regardless of what is popular, or our personally perceived status. You may not think your opinion matters, but you are someone who has an active interest, and that means you have a value in the industry. Talk to people – find out why things are the way they are, tackle problems and be willing to share your thoughts. If you truly hate speaking in public, don’t feel you write well or just have a hard time articulating your thoughts – ask someone who enjoys that. Just because you don’t love to speak in public, doesn’t mean you don’t know someone who does. Ask them for their help.
• Third: Educate yourself. Please don’t show up somewhere and take possession of the meeting without knowing what you are talking about. This doesn’t mean you need to know all the ins and out of an issue, but be willing to sit and listen to the people who have been there. New ideas are fantastic, as is new energy, but do take the time to hear what people who have been doing it have to say. They’ll know if an idea has been tried before and can at least tell you what the pitfalls were.
• Fourth: Listen. Long Facebook rants where people aren’t interested in learning are a waste of time for the rider who wants to help improve their sport. You and I may have differing opinions, but, quite often, if we listen to both approaches, we may find a compromise, or we may find out that the other person has a better idea. I love a conversation wherein people change their mind based on new information–your ability to listen to ideas that aren’t your own, makes you an asset to any organization.

We have this incredible sport, and people who are so excited about the horse. But not every rule change is a good change. Not every idea pushes the sport further, or takes into consideration potential issues down the road. Our industry–and our Zone in particular–needs people who are active, excited, and, above all else, interested in talking and listening to other riders. In seeking out and actively participating in discussions, we learn more and help keep our sport strong, relevant and fun.

In 2017, I had the distinct pleasure of being chosen as the Chef d’Equipe (or Team Coach) for the United States Hunter Jumper Association (USHJA) Zone 9 Jumper Championships. This involved 4 days of watching horses and riders from Zones 9 and 10 compete in the meter 1.10’s through the 1.35 divisions both as individual competitors as well as members of their respective teams. It was an incredible weekend, which was hosted by HITS Horse Shows of Thermal, CA. as part of their Sunshine Series.

When I was originally asked to participate, I already had some background with this event, having assisted Oregon-based Grand Prix rider Jeff Campf in the originating years, sending communications to team members and organizing team gear and other items pertaining to the show. I was not able to attend the show that year, but it was a glimpse into the beginning of a program whose idea was to give riders an opportunity to experience a Nation’s Cup format, without necessarily having the horse or experience to do so at the National level. This program spoke to me, as a rider who has always dreamed big, but whose circumstances had meant small, baby like steps in terms of achieving those lofty goals. The opportunity for more levels of riders to experience the excitement and pressure of that type of event pulled at my heart strings as a hopeful rider, while at the same time appealed to me as a trainer who was looking for opportunities for clients to ride and participate in classes that would give them needed experience if they were to move up the levels in our industry.

There were many aspects of “Chefing” that were unspoken – as well as unguided. There were no handbooks explaining all that went into being a Chef, or even what the end goal of the weekend would be. I found myself a bit dismayed heading into the show, as I felt woefully underprepared. However, upon arrival, I found great guidance from former participants – both riders and trainers, who wanted to see the program succeed, and, what proved to be a slow start, snowballed into a fantastic Zone 9 Welcome Party, piles of notes about how riders and horses performed, hours of sitting on metal benches and taking the time to greet each horse and rider along way – wishing them good luck and offering assistance. We sent out Zone 9 emails, did an Instagram Story and took photos, all of which we sent along to riders as mementos of their weekend, and, in return, received emails, texts and smiles of gratitude, which proved to be the highlight of the weekend.

What struck me most, in the experience, was how excited everyone was to be able to participate in the event. We, as a collective, participate in a very individual sport. At the end of the day, our results are our own, combined only with a silent partner – there is no “Team” in what we do on a day to day basis, and every class is a competition with our fellow riders – friends or not. We ride our own horses, manage our own courses and have singular relationships with our good days and bad. Family and fellow riders can relate, but, at the end of the day, we are responsible for only ourselves. Although, this remains true while on course, there was an extra added element of “The Team” during the weekend competition. Riders spoke up for one another when they were concerned for each other’s well being. Riders who were normally fierce competitors now looked upon each other as assets, and without fail Zone 9 riders sat in the seats, checking on how the other Zone 9 teams did, with exclamations of happiness for good rounds, and understanding for ones that didn’t go as planned. Riders walked away knowing each other better and appreciating how important each of their rounds were to the team effort. There was a sense of pride in their own Zone, which was small, but mighty. Riders who suffered bad rounds, came back, chin up and ready to perform for their team. Tears were kept to a minimum, and hugs and happiness was in large supply.

As a competitor, I enjoy sports in general. Not just my own, but the excitement sports bring into the world. Cheering for your team, cursing the “other guy”, wearing Home Team colors. I love my sport – I love the fact that when I enter the ring it is me, my horse and the elements. I enjoy being responsible to myself and my equine partner, but it can be lonely out there and, the team opportunity, brought a new energy to the sport for the weekend. It gave riders a sense of what riders in the highest level of our sport experience, as well as what other sports take for granted – a team of equals.

By providing a “team experience”, we strengthen our horse community. At home and shows, I have always tried to foster the idea of “Team Sundance” – encouraging riders to watch and cheer for their barn mates – celebrating other peoples’ wins, even if that meant they beat you. By getting excited about other rounds, it takes the pressure off the need to win each time you step into the ring – maybe today wasn’t your day, but tomorrow may be, and having the chance to cheer – or commiserate – with fellow riders, means more fun. Every rider has a bad day. Every horse decides, today isn’t your day. When we step out of our Individual Bubble, and start watching other riders, we learn that we aren’t the only ones who struggles with fear and doubt. That everyone loves to win, but most of the time you don’t, and finding a strong and supportive community aspect, in a “lone wolf” sport, lengthens your time in the industry. There will still be those moments where you may feel alone in your world, but the reality is, at the end of the day, we are all struggling with the same issues – regardless of our level of achievement – bringing it together as a team, highlights that at the end of the day we share more in common then we have differences, and that cheering for the guy who beats you, doesn’t actually mean you don’t want to win, it just means that today is his day – tomorrow he will be cheering for you.

For riders who are interested in participating in this event, know that it is a challenge. Come prepared to ride at the top of your game, and to go into the ring, no matter what. Your team is counting on you, just as your horses is, to step up and perform at the best level you can. But accepting the challenge is a fantastic opportunity to do just that. To challenge yourself, to get excited for your team, and to go home a better and more experienced competitor. And for the Chef’s – the same goes to you. Bring your Team Spirit, as it should be about more than just assigning orders of go. It’s about creating a cohesive team experience for all your riders. For cheering them on when they are amazing, and commiserating with them when they aren’t. You are responsible for setting the tone for your teams, so bring your “A” game – your team deserves it, and you will all walk away winners in the end.

In an industry that is defined by competition, quite often our focus is only on the number–and color–of ribbons we take home at the end of the day. Potential clients judge barns based on how many ribbons are hanging from their show displays. Parents judge their trainer’s success with their children based on how many “blues” the kids bring home. Riders judge other riders’ skill sets by the tallies they write up on their Facebook pages.

But, quite often, the ribbon does not always represent the entire accomplishment, or the skill it took to earn it.

Recently I purchased a new horse. My situation was such that I had limited options, so I took a leap of faith and bought a mare from the Czech Republic -sight unseen, and untried by me.  She arrived January 1st, and I named her “Risky Business”, as that seemed to sum up our new arrangement.

“Brisky” and I started our relationship on rocky ground. She had big shoes to fill and, turned out, she wasn’t an easy ride. My expectations of being able to step into the Grand Prix Ring were soon dashed, and I settled for starting my season in the 90’s, as opposed to the 1.40’s, where I had been previously.

There was nothing “easy” about this mare. She earned her nickname as “Dragon” in true style: strong, opinionated and fierce in all that she did. Her demands on me as a rider were higher than any other horse I had ridden. I had to be on my game for each ride: 100% engaged, soft, firm and focused for each step. She demanded complete attention and if I wasn’t all in, all the time, then neither was she.

And so we started our first year together and I found myself working harder, for less, than I ever had before. Up and down the heights we went. Always working on perfecting the ride, sharping the relationship and adjusting my plans and expectations on a day to day basis to accommodate my mare.

And the one thing became abundantly clear to me: it was so much more gratifying to achieve success when it came at such a high price. Winning is addictive and, at the end of the day who doesn’t want to go home with the prize? But suddenly, all of it meant even more. This mare motivated me to work harder. I rode more often, spent more hours in the saddle, and more time getting to know how to manage my schedule to best suit her needs.

What become obvious, was, as much as I might have enjoyed bringing home piles of ribbons, the effort it took to get even one or two made those that much more valuable. Each one was one I had earned, and, regardless of the height of the classes or how many I brought home, they became significant and carried a message that said “you earned this”. Not through luck or entitlement, but sheer hard work.

I have not given up my dreams of getting back in the “Big” classes. I want, as much as ever, to move my way back to the 1.40’s–and beyond–and I would love to do that with my mare. But I am eternally grateful for all that I have had the chance to learn while on this path.  Thanks to this experience I have become a better horseman and rider, and I am excited to share that with the other horses and riders in my life.

I think we are at our best when we are challenged by our sport. When it isn’t easy but we stick with it is when we develop as riders and horse people, and I and am grateful to my “Dragon”, and all the horses who came before and will come after, for making me the best version of myself.