But I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. In fact, I find it weirdly empowering to not only step out of my comfort zone, but to jump right off the cliff.

So, as I neared the tender age of 50 (how did that happen?), I realized just how much I missed horses and riding. I missed hanging out in the barn, breathing in the intoxicating scent of leather and hay, and staring into a horse’s dark, intelligent eyes. And I asked myself, “What are you waiting for?”

Getting Back in the Saddle Later in Life

I grew up with horses and ponies. Took lessons as a teenager. Spent all my school vacations and summer days galloping through fields with my friends. I was obsessed with two things: horses and Bon Jovi.

And then my 20s led me to new trails: marriage, building a business, and a busy lifestyle that eventually crowded out any horse opportunities other than an occasional trail ride.    

And then, one day last year, it hit me: I love riding! I love horses! I had the circumstances to start seriously riding again. And I knew it would be amazing.

Positive thinking is essential, but reality can’t be ignored. I’m 20 years older, my knees are shot from my lifelong addiction to stilettos, and my right shoulder partially dislocates regularly just for the sheer fun of it.

So, as an adult (AKA “older”) rider returning to the sport, I had a few lessons to learn and concessions to make. And if you’re new to riding or considering returning, perhaps these tips will make the transition smoother.

Do Your Research

When owner Amy Miller gave me a tour of SeaHorse Stables in Belfast, Maine—a 30-acre hunter/jumper equestrian facility—I was impressed by the family-friendly atmosphere, the huge indoor arena so I could ride year-round safely, the luxury of heated bathrooms and tack rooms (yes, that matters), and the fact that riders of all ages and abilities are welcome.

I wanted a place where I could get the full experience: grooming, tacking up, taking a lesson, and then enjoying time with the horse after. When you feel at home with your barn family and friends, you are in a much better position to relax and focus on enjoying your lessons.   

Work with a Trainer

A certified riding instructor has the expertise and experience to teach you how to ride correctly, replace bad habits with good ones, rebuild your confidence, match a horse’s personality to your own, and ensure every lesson is not only fun but also challenging.

Up Your Fitness Level

“It is of the utmost importance that adult amateur riders work on their fitness and symmetry out of the saddle,” says Stephanie Seheult, DPT, who specializes in equestrian fitness at Advanced Physio.

“When a weakness is identified, do targeted exercises and stretches, which will help you improve your position and strength in the saddle,” she continues. “Knee-to-shoulder stretches will help relieve tightness in your posterior hip, and side-lying leg lifts with your heels down will work on the gluteus medius muscle.”

To up my endurance and leg strength, I not only increased my cardio workouts, but added game-changing equestrian-based exercises and stretches to my daily routine.

Embrace Imperfection

Riding will quickly teach you the value of humility. I laugh at my mistakes (my two-point looks more like a six-point!) and refuse to take myself too seriously.

When we ditch striving for perfection, the journey to becoming a better rider is so much more rewarding—and a whole lot more fun.   

So I Said Yes

It’s never too late to do something you love. Eighty-year-old Betty Oare finished 8th in the Adult Hunting Championship at the Washington International Horse Show in 2021. Now that’s impressive!

But when my trainer invited me to enter the spring schooling show after just two months of lessons, my first response was, “No. Thanks, but no.”

I mean really … competing in a horse show for the first time ever at my age and less-than-stellar ability? What was she thinking? Wasn’t it too late for me to even consider entering?

Apparently not.

That annoying, competitive, never-say-no-to-a-challenge voice inside my head grew louder: Face down the fear. If you can zipline through the jungles of Costa Rica hanging upside down by your ankles, you can certainly walk and trot on command.

So I said yes.

And was surprised by the level of excitement that began to build in anticipation of the big day. I tackled each lesson with renewed zeal. I rewarded myself with a new show shirt and tan breeches. Most importantly, I smashed down any disquieting thoughts that arose, telling me to leave the show ring to the flawless 14-year-olds with perfect two-point position and ankles that flex like rubber.         

Show day finally arrived. I was riding Jimmy (the most forgiving lesson horse you’ll ever meet) in the first two classes: Adult Equitation Walk/Trot and Adult Pleasure Walk/Trot.

And … we won, both classes! Two blue ribbons! (Full disclosure: only two people competed in my class; my win may not be quite as impressive as you were envisioning.)

I like to think Betty Oare would be proud of me for not galloping away from a challenge just because some people might think you’re too old or it’s too late to try.

I got my first taste of competition. And I liked the flavor. It was a chance to put to the test everything my trainer had been sounding down into my brain, hands, seat, and legs. Will I enter another show? I hope so. Will I keep riding into my 50s, 60s, 70s, and beyond? Most definitely!

Because it’s never too late.

This article about riding later in life appeared in the October 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post Returning to Riding Later in Life appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

He is a 3-year-old Shire sport horse with one blue eye and an unflappable nature. Hay bales flying from above? Fine. Chainsaw? Fine. Feed bags blowing in the wind, a weed-whacker? No problem.

Impulse Buy

I bought beautiful Chaps on impulse when he was little more than a year old. He was the size of a pony with much growing to do. For two years we have enjoyed trail walks, grooming and hand-grazing. My Section D Welsh Cob and I ponied him on quiet hacks.

On the long walk to Chaps’ turnout field, we worked on small goals, my shoulder to his cheek: walk next to me, not in front. Stop when I stop. It is possible to walk through grass without grazing.

Chaps learned fast. But soon this joy monger would need to learn to carry a rider. I’d sent a deposit a year before for a spot in a colt-starting program with a gentle cowboy named Randy Brown. Chaps walked right onto the trailer the day he left for his three-month Shenandoah Valley summer “riding camp.”

First Ride

By all reports he did great. Still, worry set in as I drove down to ride him for the first time. I had been riding my cob for 17 years. I hadn’t quite faced the fact that now I’d need to ride a freshly started youngster.

I recalled the day my oldest child was born. I’d sailed through a blissful pregnancy, but having a newborn to care for at the end of it was still a shock.

The Blue Ridge mountains cast shadows over the unfamiliar barn. Chaps greeted me warmly. Outside, he stood like a soldier as I stretched my leg over his back for the first time. He moved off at an unhurried, unworried pace.

This new perspective felt right, his wide shoulders and thick mane in front of me. Chaps seemed to understand that it was me up there on his back, ears flicking in my direction to check in. I exhaled and put my shoulders back as joy began to replace angst, one stride at a time.

14 Days

The next day, Randy escorted us through an expanse of beautiful farmland. We walked. We talked. I reached my hand back to scratch a spot on Chaps’ back just behind my leg. Later, I used the word “momentous” to describe the brief ride. It had importance.

When Randy delivered Chaps home at the end of September, he admonished me to make the most out of my training investment. To lightly ride—or do something with the horse—every day for 14 days, starting immediately. “Just ride him,” Randy said.

I still had anxiety about the new responsibility (and risk) of riding a young, inexperienced horse. The first day, we explored the ring. Then we expanded our travels to the fields and into the woods around the property. There was a single meeting of my knee and a tree (I yelped so loud he was careful from then on).

I could see that Chaps still had much to learn: Don’t rush downhill, pay attention to your feet even if there’s something to look at, don’t veer off the trail. When I let him wander, our first stop was always a visit to Teddy, his pasture mate relegated to a paddock.

Crunching Leaves

While our rides were short and light-hearted, the everyday routine meant daily bursts in our trust and confidence in each other. Chaps didn’t spook much. I reassured him as needed.

On that fifth day as we turned into the woods with the crunch of leaves underfoot, I worried how I would make the rest of 14 days work. I had a full-time job, a teen with a broken arm who couldn’t tie his own shoes, a husband out of town, three dogs, a cat and a turtle to mind. I was determined, but what if getting there every day—17 miles each way—started to feel like a chore?

Maybe it was the crunch of the leaves that reminded me of my 12-year-old self on that turn into the woods. The sound could be my autobiography. It reminded me in that moment of how hard I had to work for access to horses when I was a kid.

I persuaded the school bus driver to drop me off at a riding school along her route. Then I convinced a riding instructor to let me do chores in exchange for lessons. It wasn’t long before she let me wander off on solo trail rides on Whiskey, a liver chestnut Quarter Horse she had in training. I’d sing to him when he would startle from noisy geese overhead or a passing car on a dirt road. Often we were alone in the woods, just me, Whiskey, and his hooves crunching through the leaves.

Inner Horse Girl

The weather cooperated for every one of Chaps’ and rides during those intense two weeks. The trees turned autumn colors as we explored forgotten corners of the farm and made figure-8s around trees. We lingered with hawks and deer. I quit worrying where all this was going.

Day 14 was not our best ride, but it didn’t matter. None of this was a chore. It was pure joy.

Along the way, this remarkable young horse helped me pay respect to my younger horse-loving self, and the work it sometimes takes to get and keep yourself in the saddle—over a lifetime if you’re lucky.

This article appeared in the September 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post Your Horse Life: Young Horse Challenge appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

I’d lost Emmy, a magnificent, kind, motherly Thoroughbred mare, after her battle with a degenerative soft tissue disease. She was a horse that knows your thoughts before they’ve even made it to words; the kind of horse they don’t make anymore.

Hollywood Moment

Our tale begins after months of horse shopping. My husband’s draft horse was depressed and needed a friend. Every horse we looked at—all Thoroughbreds—wasn’t The One. And maybe I wasn’t ready. Then one day, after looking at the New Vocations site, I happened to stop upon pictures of Utopia. But the listing said … “Standardbred.”

Standardbred? What the heck do I know about them? But his face, and his eyes, and his proud yet kind energy pulled at me. I happened to be traveling for work to Lexington, Ky., the very next day, and their Richwood, Ohio, facility was basically on the way. I contacted Bridget Hollern, their Standardbred trainer, and she said I could come meet him.

Upon arriving at the farm, I wasn’t really expecting much. I had already pooh-poohed every horse we’d gone to look at for months. Like most potential adopters, I gave Bridget a little summary on our horse history and how hard it was to lose a horse like Emmy.

We walked into the barn, and like a Hollywood cliché, I locked eyes with Utopia. It was love at first sight. He had a presence of intelligence and humor. He found a pack of Twizzlers candy in my pocket and demanded to eat every single one of them.

Bridget and I worked with Utopia in the cross-ties and I asked if I could longe him. I got the butterflies back and was smiling from ear to ear. After working Utopia and watching Bridget ride him, I was sold.

That night at the hotel room in Lexington, I called my husband.

“What do I do? He’s a Standardbred, and I wanted a Thoroughbred again.”

My husband said, “Well, do you like him?”

I replied, “Yes, yes, yes! Let’s get him.”

So, a week later, we picked up Utopia from Bridget’s barn and brought him home.

Allergy Attack

The butterflies and joy faded as the first week went on and we started noticing that Utopia, now known as Twizzler, had developed hives all over his body and face. We went on an eight-week crusade to figure out what he was allergic to.

We changed everything you can think of: bedding, hay and feed, baths, allergy meds, even vet-prescribed meds and allergy testing. This poor horse was exploding in his stall as we tried to keep him off the pasture for fear the pasture was causing the allergies.

I was devastated and scared. Our trial was almost up, but I didn’t want to give up on him.

I called Bridget for advice; we even got her vet involved. My vet returned to us with the blood-based allergy testing results: Poor Twizzler was allergic to many things in horse feed, some insects, and a whole lot of pasture plants, including clover. All of the pastures in northeast Ohio are dominated by clover.

Out of pure desperation, I talked to my husband about ripping out the pasture and starting over with a grass mix he could live in.

I was eventually put in contact with Twizzler’s former trainer/owner from his racetrack days, Terry Deters. Terry is a horseman through and through. He is kind and honest, and he was happy to talk about his beloved Utopia, who apparently had always suffered from hives, and had lived comfortably with blood serum allergy treatments.

Hallelujah! We didn’t have to dig up the pastures and he could eat and live like a normal horse! We started the shots as soon as they came in. It was a relief for Twizzler within the first few weeks.

Trike Trials

The day I knew this hive-stricken horse had to stay with our family was when Twizzler was standing in the cross-ties watching our 2-year-old son Glenn ride his tricycle around in the barn. Glenn knows very little about horses, but he knows how Emmy was with him—kind and aware. Glenn assumes all horses are cool with noisy, tiny people riding about.

I watched Glenn almost ride his trike into Twizzler’s front feet and stop. In slow motion, I thought to myself, OK, he’s either going to spook or run over Glenn.

Nope. Twizzler, as levelheaded and intelligent as he is, pushed Glenn’s bike with his nose, and Glenn giggled with glee that he was moving backwards. This game continued on and on.

Problem Solving

Eventually, we started Twizzler under saddle at our farm. We ride in our pastures and fields; we don’t have an arena. It never occurred to me that a Standardbred might not understand that his new job doesn’t have a track to guide him, and the aids are very different from being driven.

I struggled a bit getting him to understand what I was asking him to do. Something that helped us was creating a large circle out of cones, a bit like a track.

The other thing I struggled with was bit selection. It seemed we tried at least 30; all of them resulted in the same thing—a lot of anxious chewing and chomping.

Our now dear friend Terry reminded me that they race with very simple single-jointed snaffles with fixed mouthpieces. So I put back all the $200 bits and went out and bought a $20 copper roller snaffle driving bit. We now ride comfortably (although somewhat chompy at the beginning of the ride).

A Very Special Job

A few short months after letting Twizzler into our hearts and home, he embarked on a huge job.

Before Emmy’s passing, she was a friend and a teacher to a 7-year-old family member named Rhys, a boy with Asperger’s syndrome (a form of autism spectrum disorder). I was confident Twizzler would be kind and patient with Rhys, too, and we decided to give it a try.

Twizzler never put a foot wrong under saddle. He seemed to have the same ability to read the situation that Emmy did. Rhys loves having Twizzler as his new teacher and friend, and Twizzler loves being the center of attention, especially with children and the snacks they often have.

A Breed with a Lot to Offer

I tell everyone I know looking for a new riding horse to consider a Standardbred. They are level-headed, first and foremost. They are funny and great family horses. They are athletes and love to work. They are extremely trainable, forgiving, and can settle into new situations quickly. Twizzler is also pretty darn sound, even after over 200 races!

We were a family of broken hearts, and the universe sent us Utopia. Our hearts are full and our home is complete.

This article appeared in the August 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post Adopting a Horse: Love At First Sight appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

I could feel her staring at my boots, caked with mud from some last-minute yardwork before my flight. Now at the airport gate, I looked up and caught her eye. She was well-dressed, probably in her 70s, waiting, like me, for our turn to board the plane.

“Do you ride?” she asked.

She wasn’t judging me. She recognized a fellow horse girl. Though it had been decades since I last seriously rode, my fashion preference for paddock boots gave me away.

“Oh,” I said. “Not for years. I gave it up when I went to college, and then, well, life took over.”

Two grown women, sharing a common bond in an unlikely place.

Growing up as a Horse Girl

Rooted in our childhood and adolescence, this connection between horsewomen is weighted with the understanding of what it means to work tirelessly and care for something unconditionally. It empowered us, built our confidence, and continues to define us.

And yet, in adulthood, many of us rarely speak of it. “Horse girls” are openly mocked as oddballs in American culture. Society forgives us our childhood obsessions but expects us to put away our youthful passions and grow up.

As an adolescent, horses and ponies offered an escape from my complicated relationship with my mother. When things got tense in the house, I sought refuge in the barn, grooming our family horse, Pridey, and tacking him up to hit the trails.

Steady and fearless, Pridey taught my two older sisters to ride before me. The three of us were raised around horses, a lifestyle rooted in our mother’s obsession. We rose early every morning to feed and turn them out before school. On weekends, we worked with trainers and rode competitively.

By the time I hit my teens, I was done with the pressure, both from competition and in particular, my mother. But I was not done with horses.

On the trails, I often dropped my reins and let Pridey lead the way, taking me far from my teenage troubles into our own special world. Pridey was my best friend, my protector, and my guide.

Pure Determination

It was on one of my trail rides that I met Kendra Hansis. Turning a corner, Pridey’s ears pricked up and there they were: Kendra and her pony, Butterball. We were both trespassing on land owned by a local farmer, and I immediately understood that it was Kendra who had been pulling tree branches over the dirt-bike paths to make jumps.

Unlike me, a horse girl by circumstance, Kendra got there through sheer will and determination. She read every book about horses and riding that she got her hands on. Her parents discouraged her, saying they could not afford a horse, and definitely didn’t have the money for vet bills, farriers, trainers, grain, and boarding costs.

As riders, we were taught back then that if you fall off, you must get back on. Kendra applied that lesson in every aspect of her life.

A friend of her aunt’s let Kendra groom her backyard pony whenever she wanted. That turned into a daily habit, and the woman eventually gifted the pony, Butterball, to her. That woman’s friend later offered Kendra another horse, Katy, knowing the mare would receive far better care under Kendra’s supervision.

In time, Kendra essentially became part of my family, joining me in my weekend chores, mucking stalls, filling water buckets, and lugging hay bales. Together, we hit the trails, where Kendra took chances and pushed the limits, racing over makeshift jumps and dodging branches and trees along the way.

Girl to Woman

“When you’re riding, you’re literally above everyone,” Kendra shared with me recently. “I remember hearing women say they lived in fear of men attacking them when they were out. I grew up on a horse. No one could catch me.”

The sense of independence that’s so empowering to horse girls can be a threat to others. A quick search on TikTok found a meme about a girl with “horse girl vibes,” which the voiceover describes as “quirky, like bizarre, like unhinged.”

That stigma starts to stick as girls become young women, when society expects us to trade in our obsession for horses for a more traditional path.

I was no different. I was 18 when I last saw Pridey. It was time to “get serious” and go away to school. Time to think about my career. Fall in love. Have babies. Pridey was sold so he could teach another little girl to ride.

Kendra took a different path. She entered the University of Connecticut in pre-vet, but she switched her major to English after one semester.

She fell off.

She ended up working in the school’s horse barns, rising at 5 a.m. to clean stalls before class. In time, the barn manager sent her to work at the breeding barn, where she said she “kind of got the bug.”

She got back on.

Despite meeting skeptics along the way, she studied horse breeding and bloodlines, learning the science of selecting the right stallions for the right mares. In 2001, she started Runningwater Warmbloods, her breeding operation, with a goal “to make better horses.”

Twenty years later, the only horse she could afford to breed in 2015, Fortunato H2O, was named grand champion at the prestigious Dressage at Devon Breed Show.

“When they called champion, I’m bawling,” Kendra said. “Me, a middle-aged lady doing her best with the one horse she bred in 2015. You hope you have a day like that in your life.”

Horses Are Still a Part of Me

Though I left that life behind, it’s still a part of me—the part that’s OK with a little dirt on my boots; the part that, in other aspects of my life, keeps getting up, even after I fall.

Like Kendra, the woman in the airport didn’t give up her horse girl days. She told me she made sure her kids rode, and then her grandchildren.

“Nothing is more important than learning how to be responsible for something, for having something that relies on you every day,” she said before we boarded our plane.

Today, my daughter is learning how to ride. Back in the barn, I listen to her trainer from the sidelines, watching the different personalities of the school horses, admiring their grace and power as they patiently support my daughter.

Just like Pridey did for me.

This article about Nancy’s “horse girl” journey appeared in the April 2024 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post How a Horse Girl Stayed Horsey Despite Not Riding for Years appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

Excuse the smoke … that’s just me taking a long hit of my pen, because to be honest, I don’t know any mother in their right mind that is comfortable seeing their child on a 1,200-pound animal.

Don’t judge. This is when I thank God for transitional lenses. I’m at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center in the Hansom Dam ring. I look across the ring at my 10-year-old and 12-year-old boys sitting side by side, perched on their white horses. They look so dapper they would give any fairytale a run for its money.

As the gate opens and my 10-year-old enters the ring, I watch him double-check his heels, his reins, and his lead before breaking into a full canter. I sit off to the side of the ring to avoid the dirt because lord knows when I’ll see Rolanda (that’s my beautician). Also, because there’s a fear in my eyes that I never want my kids to see.

I watch as he snakes his way through the eight-jump course he learned just minutes before entering the ring—the same kid I have to remind every day to brush his teeth and put on deodorant—and I can’t help but be amazed.

Here comes the first jump. He leans forward in two-point position, and I see 1,200 pounds of pure muscle carry my baby boy over a wooden gate lined with beautiful flowers and successfully land on the other side. I think to myself, “God, the kid makes it look so easy.” But two years ago, both my boys were completely different. Things were anything but easy.

A Year Like No Other

The year 2020 found us battling three different wars: Covid-19, racial tensions in our country, and ADHD. Not to mention homeschooling, which I’ll get to in a minute.

I had to explain to my boys how seemingly overnight, our world had changed. We now had masks, curfews, protests—something that, as a Black woman, I had to grapple with telling my kids about. From George Floyd to Ahmed Aubrey, I had to explain to them why simple tasks they had been doing for years could no longer be. Yes, you are a Black boy and yes, they are killing innocent Black boys.

I pray you never have to have these conversations with your kids. Of course, the news was on in our house 24/7, each network pushing their own narrative to promote the ratings.

I noticed the one thing they all had in common was how they scoured the internet to find pieces of social media that would fit their agenda. It was in that moment that I realized as a mother of two African American boys, I was the only one who could teach them to take control of their own narrative. Because God forbid something happens to one of my boys—you for damn sure aren’t using some intimidating media-spun picture for your own propaganda.

For the Harrison household, it was a trifecta of stress that created the perfect storm. But they say pressure turns coal into diamonds, and our house was about to get blinged out.

Little Peach Pill

We had a game plan—but our only hanging chad was Adderall.

This little peach pill made my sons sleepy, tired and able to go for hours without eating. I mean, what was I expecting? The composition of Adderall, which contains amphetamine, was but a few rungs distant from its neighbor, methamphetamine.

A similar concoction called “pep pills” were given to the Nazis during the Blitzkrieg and helped curb the appetite of the rich and famous during the early 1900s.

The school district had been pushing my kids to get on ADHD meds for about a year, but I held strong. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with two little Black boys with a lot of energy. After all, boys are rambunctious, and wouldn’t that mean that all boys would need to be on Adderall?

But I couldn’t ignore the voice in my head that begged the question: “What if I’m wrong?” I had to distinguish if it was my ego talking or if my children really needed it. Eventually, I gave in.

Bored in the House

A year later, Covid hit and the schools closed, forcing me to face Adderall head-on in our homeschool, Harrison Prep Academy, Est. 2020.

Day in and day out, it was the same routine. But rather than wither beneath it, I quickly saw how the countless hours stuck in the house together could be an opportunity. What if we could turn those six pills a day into zero?

Over the next few weeks, I began weaning my kids off medication. It all started with a 4:30 a.m. wakeup, including an hour on the treadmill. Although that helped, the boys were missing outdoor play, and I knew that was the missing element to finally defeating Adderall.

But Los Angeles was at the height of Covid, and with curfew in full effect, traditional sports were obsolete. And no, my kids were not going to play basketball over Zoom. Not in my kitchen.

Then on December 2, 2020, I heard a bump from upstairs and came in to find my kids playing.

One was riding the other’s back, pretending to be on a horse. That’s when I had an idea—and here’s where the bling-bling comes in. I decided to put my two African American boys in one of the most predominately white sports in history: English riding. It’s estimated that less than 3 percent of equestrian riders competing in the U.S. are Black—let alone a set of brothers.

New Narrative

And so it happened that we traded the peach pill for a 1,200-pound animal that ultimately became the best form of therapy they’ve ever had. My children have an unexplained connection to these horses, and I may not fully understand it, but I’m along for the ride (and so is my wallet).

These gentle giants unlocked a piece of my children’s brains that not even Adderall could get to. They may not know this, but what they’ve stumbled onto has them writing their own narrative. Instead of seeing society’s representation of themselves, they’re able to create their own.

Needless to say, it’s opened doors and turned heads within the community. But most of all, it’s built their confidence and removed some of the “traditional” labels. The boys have gone from being followers to leaders. But don’t get it twisted: The ADHD didn’t just magically disappear. But it’s gotten better, and it’s giving me faith that we’re on the right track.

One Last Reminder

Today, my sons are finishing their second year of riding. And as I watch one of them careen over his last jump, I hear the crowd give a round of applause as he completes his course. Just as my 10-year-old leaves the ring, the 12-year-old enters it. They acknowledge each other with a nod. Even though they’re competitors, they’re still brothers and each other’s biggest cheerleaders.

With each gallop sounding like thunder against the dirt, I hold my breath. Once again, I watch the horse make its first vault over a 3-foot jump. I ask myself, have they stumbled into a potential career? Time will tell, but the opportunities seem endless.

With the cloud of Covid lifting, my prayer as a mother is that they continue on this path of success. And although a part of me wants to move on and completely forget my sons were plagued with ADHD, it lingers around the corner, peeking its head up from time to time.

My boys have been off Adderall for nearly three years now, but I can’t seem to toss their final bottle of meds. Maybe I keep it close at hand as a reminder of what was. Or maybe it’s a reminder of something that never has to be again.

The post How Horses Helped Two Boys with ADHD appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

Life as a Horse Owner

Once a horse owner, the challenges continued. My first was a green Appendix Quarter Horse. He developed a mysterious condition where his heart rate would not increase with exercise.

A friend that was headed for the vet school more than two hours away offered to take my horse and I along so he could be evaluated. Snow began to fall during the day. On the way home, it became heavy, and we went off the road into the median on the interstate. Somehow, the truck and trailer stayed upright, and everyone was OK.

While I sat in the cab and worried about the horse, my friend went for help. I stepped into the snow to check on him and feed him carrots. The friend finally returned with a driver and tow truck, who was able to pull us out. It felt like a miracle. The unexplained problem with my horse’s heart eventually disappeared.

When it was time to geld my large American Warmblood colt, Careem, the vet’s helper did not arrive, so it was just me and the vet. Once the colt was down in the sand ring, I had to hold his head down.

Caring for a stall-bound horse requires fortitude. Careem did not want to be in there. He had injured a suspensory ligament in a front leg. Rewrapping an antsy horse while keeping track of cotton, Vetrap and cut pieces of duct tape is, out of necessity, a quickly learned skill that requires steady nerves. So did walking him in the front yard along a busy gravel road during his rehab.

Teaching Careem to load was difficult. He was big and stubborn, not fearful. He just did not want to get in. After getting help from several professionals, I managed to teach him to self-load, and we traveled happily together.

On a ride home from the vet clinic one day, my trailer blew a tire. We parked on the side of the road waiting for the repair truck. Interstate 81 traffic sped by us, inches from my horse’s head.

I appreciate the service truck drivers who will change a loaded horse trailer tire on the side of a busy highway. My horse took it all calmly, in character. I was more worried than he was.

A Dream of Showing

As a child, I read books about girls and their horses going to horse shows, and this became my dream. It finally became real after hours, days, and years of riding.

My challenges combined at weekend shows and started with loading and trailering. Due to my location, I often do this alone—probably not wise, but useful in the pursuit of bravery. Once at the show grounds, I hurry to unload horse and gear, tack up, and get safely over to the crowded warm-up ring full of nervous horses and riders and yelling trainers. We meet these challenges.

I usually don’t have a trainer with me, which leaves me and my horse on our own to stay out of everyone’s way. Once we enter the dressage ring, nothing else matters. After every test, I want to go back in the ring so I can ride it again better. I love these weekends, and now realize how lucky I am.

With the horse of a lifetime, Montreal, my challenges continued. I needed to call upon the years of bravery exercises to continue my dream. Now, I was headed to different barns with different clinicians, to whom we pay significant fees to correct our position and cues to help our horses move to their potential.

Friends helped me teach Montreal to load. He had arrived after a bad experience. Loading him at home, we would make a chute with the trailer and doors so there was only no other alternative. We would put his buddy in the next stall for moral support. Eventually, I taught him to self-load and the trips for lessons became easy.

This past winter was tough, with snow piled everywhere. Strong winds blew all day and night, leaving the way to the hay barn impassible. Drifts made the gates difficult or impossible to open.

Climbing through the fence was the only alternative. Using old ski poles made my trek possible. I’ve started and ended my journey living in snow country, where my braveness and strength saves the day.

Throughout the years, I have been helped by friends and instructors to get past and learn from situations requiring resilience and confidence. I’m sure I am not alone.

This article about becoming a fearless horse owner appeared in the November/December 2022 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

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When I think about my experience owning two blind horses, I’m instantly drawn to the proverbial phrase, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

My first horse, Sanibel, started losing her vision at the age of 14. After accepting the verdict that she would eventually go blind, I reached out to as many resources as possible, only to find a horrible conclusion. It seemed the common answer for blind horses was to put them down.

I was willing to accept her eventual blindness, but I did not accept ending her life. At the time, Sanibel was in her prime and had so much spirit. She was my best friend, and we still had much more to do together. I fought to find a way.

In this pursuit, I struggled to find support. When I began making phone calls to find boarding for a blind horse, I was given “no” after “no.” That is when I learned how deep the stigma against blind horses was. Some calls even resulted in people scolding me, trying to shame me for keeping a blind horse, and how cruel it was.

This only hardened my resolve. I needed to make a point that my horse could not only survive without her vision, but she could thrive.

After turning every stone, I found our sanctuary, the perfect home that supported her needs and kept her safe.

For a few months, I breathed a little easier until my other horse, Red, also started to go blind. At least the second time around I was prepared.

The cause of their blindness was a mystery at first, but when Red started to go blind, I went on a hunch and had her tested for leptospirosis. She was positive. Although I never tested Sanibel, I assume they both were exposed. (This bacterial disease accounts for 67 percent of recurrent uveitis cases in horses, according to Merck.)

Change in Focus

There have been downsides to this experience—many downsides. However, I promised lemonade.

Managing blind horses has furthered my education in ways that wouldn’t be possible without the experience. As I became more aware of how horses interact with their environment, I truly appreciated how important environmental factors are. Without their vision, my horses relied much more on their other senses.

I dove into a deep study of the equine sensory system to understand their experience. During this time, I also practiced strengthening my own sensory perception and discovered a stronger, deeper connection to my horses and my surroundings.

This self-prescribed perception practice helped me in an unexpected way. Prior to my horses going blind, I sustained a stabilized C2 (neck) fracture that ended my professional riding career. I was fortunate to recover, and still ride for fun, but at the time I saw the world through a pain lens. Everything I did revolved around a pain scale.

I didn’t notice right away, but I realized one day I’d stopped focusing on my pain. My new journaling and meditation habits replaced painkillers. I had my horses to thank for getting me through the injury and the initial rehab, but I had to thank them twice over for giving me my life back.

See What is Possible

My mares thrived, just as I knew they would. It took some time, but I eventually was able to understand that the large majority of negativity I encountered was because of a lack of experience and education or holding onto old beliefs. This turned into a great opportunity to reach out to local groups and individuals to help educate and advocate for blind horses.

I eventually found my people: the small but mighty blind horse community. Everyone I have talked to that has owned a blind horse is an open advocate. We understand the isolation and the fear, but we also share hope and offer support.

Through the years, I’ve even been able to directly help a few owners with their horses as they adjust to vision loss. In this way, I know my horses and their example will have a legacy.

In early 2020, I lost Sanibel to colic at the age of 22. It was a sudden and horrific loss. She wasn’t the first horse I’ve lost, but she was my first horse, and in many ways represented my childhood and my love for horses.

Unfortunately, there were more unexpected losses to come that year. I found myself thanking her once again for all the lessons she taught me in our 18 years together. It was in those memories and experiences that I found strength in my grief. I can’t help but smile in gratitude.

Red and I are currently enjoying casual rides, learning tricks, and exploring the fun of scent work. She gets around remarkably well, and many people who meet her have trouble believing she is blind.

I don’t know what’s next, but after owning a blind horse, I have learned to be open to possibility.

This article about blind horse advocate Christine Olsen appeared in the November/December 2023 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

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A True Cowgirl

I have a condition called arthrogryposis multiplex congenita. I can’t stand up without braces, and I use a walker and wheelchair. My disability not only affects my daily life, but my future and goals.

I’m limited on what I can do with horses. I can’t just hop up on a horse like anyone else. When looking at me, people might think that I can easily get hurt around a horse. I’ve never seen it that way, though; I’ve always seen myself like any other horse-crazy girl. I wanted to know everything about horses, and I hoped to be a true cowgirl or horsewoman. It just took a while for me to feel that way.

A favorite equine haven of mine is the Kentucky Horse Park. I’m sure my family got tired of seeing the same horses and activities every year when I’d ask to go for my birthday, but I loved it. I would go on the pony ride every time and loved seeing the many different horse breeds.

As I grew into my teenage years, I wanted to ride horses more than anything. My parents agreed to let me ride at a therapeutic riding center known as the REATH Center (Riding Enhanced Around Therapeutic Horses) in Campbellsville, Ky. I rode once a week every week, weather permitting.

I would savor and soak up every moment at the riding center. I learned a lot about riding and caring for a horse while spending time there. I grasped that even with my disability, it was still possible to ride like anyone else.

Deep down, I still desired my big dream: having a horse of my own. I knew that day would come in the distant future when I became an adult. However, it ended up coming a lot sooner than I expected.

A Dream Realized

When I was 15 years old, a Tennessee Walking Horse named Glory changed my life. While on the search for a horse, I discovered a herd of nine horses not far from where I live. Some were untouched, and others loved attention and treats.

Those horses taught me so much throughout the time I spent with them. I developed relationships with them. I even bonded with Harley, the horse that wouldn’t come anywhere near you. To that herd of horses, I will forever be grateful that I met them and bonded with them.

I rode Glory at that farm for a few years before bringing her to my home. Before that happened, I’ll never forget my dad asking me if I would ever grow out of my love for riding. I assured him I wouldn’t.

Some young girls have a phase of loving horses, but I never grew out of that phase. Now, at 20 years old, I enjoy living my childhood dream every day by taking part in Glory’s life and daily care.

Owning and riding a horse isn’t just a hobby or sport for me. Being a rider is who I am. I wake up every day and wheel myself out to the barn because I love it. It’s my motivation and inspiration. I’m so thankful I get to live my dream every day, even if it’s just going out to the barn to do chores.

I know I’m going to experience more with horses, so the journey has just begun!

This article about Jewell Cox’s horse journey appeared in the April 2022 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

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Sammy galloped dramatically after our horse trailer as we hauled Wicklow to an eventing horse trial without him. He ran alongside us until the end of his field, calling for her, and her to him. It was such a sweet and dramatic display of their love for one another.

My now-husband, Drew, and I planned a sort of “couple’s trip” for our honeymoon to horse-lovers’ paradise, Mackinac Island, Mich. Everything was booked, including Wicklow and Sammy’s boarding on the island.

Just months before our wedding, we lost Wicklow overnight, with no trace of knowing what happened to her. Losing her was beyond devastating; she was my heart horse. I was inconsolable.

Wicklow was an off-track Thoroughbred (OTTB) mare adopted from Horse and Hound Rescue Foundation in Guthrie, Okla. She was my dear friend and adventure partner. We camped overnight alongside Drew and Sammy, rode trails at state parks, entered eventing horse trials and the fall hunter pace—an event where we all galloped at a fast clip.

She often paused and looked back, waiting for her shorter-legged Appy friend to catch up to us. She had the kindest heart.

Following her death, I couldn’t sleep, frantically researching causes of sudden death in horses, to little avail. I then navigated my dedicated wee-hour search for any horses of her lineage, and then her dam. Drew found a phone number for Wicklow’s breeder and previous owner, and two hours after phoning Mark Swartz, he returned my call.

Sharing the Love

Delighted to connect, Mark recalled Wicklow as a foal and her earliest moments in training. While her heart didn’t beat for racing, I assured him he bred an outstanding jumper. His trip down Memory Lane surfaced wonderful memories with his beloved wife, JJ. With a shared love for their horses, they had named Wicklow’s half-sister—a competitive racehorse—JJ’s Forever.

We talked for more than an hour about Wicklow. I sent him pictures of her jumping and my engagement pictures with her and Sammy. He forwarded me pictures of her in training and one nursing her dam, In Perpetuity. And then, hesitantly, I asked him if he knew what happened to her dam.

In Perpetuity was now 14, recently retired from breeding just outside of Lexington, Ky. She was being cared for by her original owner, Mark’s longtime best friend, Mark Corrado. Soon after my call with Mark S., they both phoned me on a three-way call to tell me all about the great race mare, In Perpetuity.

Once in training with well-known Thoroughbred trainer Kiaran McLaughlin—who simultaneously had horses in training for Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum—In Perpetuity broke her maiden at Aqueduct in her second start. She was unfortunately clipped by a loose 2-year-old early in her career, which led to her retirement from racing and the beginning of her broodmare career.

An Amazing Gesture

They detailed more about her, and at 9 p.m. that night, they offered us the most special gift a broken-hearted horse girl could have received. Explaining how much it meant as owners to know their filly Wicklow went to such a loving home, they gifted us her beautiful dam, In Perpetuity. They were rehoming the dam of my heart horse to me.

Early the next morning, without delay, we set off from Oklahoma to Kentucky to bring her home.

Upon reaching the barn, we were led to her stall. I was taken aback as there in front of us stood a beautiful bay mare with Wicklow’s mirror-image kind brown eyes and a white sock on the left hind. She greeted us like old friends as I buried my head into her neck in tears.

Sadly, it’s not terribly uncommon to see Thoroughbred horses retiring from their racing or breeding careers to a grim fate rather than owners rehoming them. In Perpetuity was fortunate to be retired in excellent health to a stunning farm, and Mark C. said there was truly no other alternative.

“My dad and I raced her, and Mark and I each had some of her foals. It was time for her retirement. She’d been a nice mare and a really nice racehorse. [But] even if she had been a lousy racehorse, I would’ve done the same thing. If ever given the choice of not being able to eat or not being able to care for a horse and give them a nice retirement, there would be no choice.”

Mark C. continues to contribute to several Thoroughbred horse retirement and rehoming organizations per year.

“To me, that’s the responsibility of owning a racehorse. I 100 percent believe that and can’t imagine anything else.”

So now in our barn is the incredible mare who brought sweet Wicklow into our lives. Moving gradually toward her third career, I tacked her up for that first ride, letting her see and smell my saddle and pad. She inhaled so deeply, ears forward, I really believe she understood that Wicklow was once there with us.

The marvel of her being here, and my level of gratitude toward Mark C. and Mark S., is infinite.

This article about rehoming a horse to heal a broken heart appeared in the January/February 2022 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

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Except when we can’t. Occasionally, your mental computer gets gummed up with saddle soap. You lean at the jump. You twist for a lead change. You cut the corners. Your trainer explains what you need to do. You screw up again. You’ve hit a wall.

But sometimes, out of nowhere, your coach pulls magic words out of their hat that hit that mental barrier like a wrecking ball. And poof! You, your horse, and Miley Cyrus are crashing through the wall.

Sure, when in doubt, add leg. But here are a few more mind-blowing quips and unexpected riding advice from my trainers that suddenly made it all make sense.

◆ “Use the pressure you want to use.” This piece of riding advice is so logical it makes me want to scream. If you like a horse with an electric response, more pressure won’t do it; a whisper-soft leg with corrections is the way to go. If you prefer a firmer feel, you’re not going to get there anxiously holding your leg off your thin-skinned mount.

Use the pressure you want to use. It’s scary, it’s counterintuitive to me, and it works.

◆ “You have to go to work. So does your horse.” This came after I explained to a visiting trainer that my sassy, tantrum-y horse wasn’t in a “good mood.” Rule No. 1: always check whether the source of resistance is pain. But barring that, even great horses (especially certain mares) have grumpy days. I’ll make any excuse for my baby: It’s hot out! She doesn’t like the flowers! But this trainer helped me realize we still must do our jobs.

Even when I’m not “feeling the vibe,” I must go to work. And I may cut her some slack, but so does my grouchy mare.

◆ “I’m raising the jump, but ride it exactly the same.” I know this is going to be as big a shock to you as it was to me, but the fact you hear the jump cups sliding up the standards does not mean you have to get as nervous as if you just entered the Grand Prix ring for a $100,000 jump-off.

It turns out if you’re already doing OK, you don’t need to lose your entire mind over the jump going up 3 inches. Who knew?

◆ “Don’t forget to let the air out.” When you feel the anxiety rising, slowly blow air out of your mouth like you’re blowing bubbles. Whenever I do this, I realize how long I’ve been holding it in, and I feel active relaxation from all parties. Whoops.

◆ “Don’t ask until you’re ready.” Your trainer’s looking at you. Your lesson mates are looking at you. IT’S TIME TO CANTER. LIKE, RIGHT NOW. Relaaaaax. Are you ready to canter? Or has your horse been walking around half asleep, waiting for his turn through the grid? Is his white-rimmed eyeball trained on the lawnmower buzzing past? Are you discombobulated? Need some water?

Take a beat, friend. Gather yourself before rushing toward chaos and wrongness. You can afford a few moments.

◆ “Don’t make the distance work; make the distance happen.” A positive mantra from my jumping trainer to remind me this is not entirely a game of chance. My pace, rein length, and body position are all up to me. But also …

◆ “The last few strides are for your horse.” Whatever canter you have coming out of the corner, that’s your canter. The day before your wedding is not the time to be experimenting with tanning, and the strides before the jump are not the time to be experimenting with adding or subtracting a step.

If you’re blessed with an obvious distance, look up. Your job is done. Like pores in a magnifying mirror, the more you stare at the spot you chose, the worse it’s going to get.

If you see nothing, keep your pace, and 99 percent of the time, the spot will materialize out of thin air. It feels like a trust fall, but unless you’re jumping huge jumps, you’re going to be just fine.

◆ “Just sit there.” Truly the seed from which all these comments grow, and by far the hardest instruction to swallow. Riders are perfectionists; we can always be rounder, straighter, and pushing harder from behind.

But “sitting there” is an art form. When everyone is getting frustrated, don’t fret, don’t pick, just sit there. Shut the amoeba brain off for a moment and enjoy the ride.

Now get on your wrecking ball and start making some breakthroughs!

This article about riding advice appeared in the November/December 2021 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

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