Dedication

I'm fiercely dedicated to equestrian riding. 

There is nothing I want more then to be recognized as a successful, nationally decorated rider. Its something I am willing to do anything to achieve. I've trained long hours and given up so much to reach the point in my career where I am now. I wouldn't have it any other way. I push myself and my physical body to extremes to reach the skill level I desire. I change and mold the way I think, move, and react in search of perfection. 

My trainer says my legs are weak, I can't walk straight for weeks because of lower body work outs. I lose focus on one pattern, I spend days memorizing pattern book after pattern book. My equitation coach makes a comment about how my chest is too large for the hunter look, I double sports bras and duct tape to press them down until I can hardly breathe. Other riders criticize my riding, I push myself to prove them wrong. My trainer says I need drop fifteen pounds, I put myself on a strict diet and work out regimen until they are gone. 

There is nothing I wouldn't give to be the best. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice whispers, 'is this too much?'

I can't help but to reply 'No.'

This is my life. I am willing to put my all into it. Not just for the recognition but for me, it's who I am. While working towards achieving this feeling of perfect stature every dedicated equestrian has battled the same type and degree of hardships as other athletes, if not more. The stress and pain that is felt is real, and it is amplified to impossible proportions while under the pressure of parents, trainers, judges, other riders, and of course yourself. You are constantly being told that there is someone else better than you. 

Even the best riders will taste the bitterness of defeat, whether that be because of a swapped lead or the judges personal preference, no one is ever always on top. This ever constant change is an emotional roller-coaster as you battle your way up the ladder of success, only to be knocked back down because the judge doesn’t like chestnuts. We push ourselves physically, constantly coming home with aching muscles and deep saddle sores. We train our bodies to forget that our ankles can only bend so much and we push them down harder, to pretend that our legs aren’t shaking and force them to be still, to ignore the knots wound so tightly in our backs and continue sitting up, to fool the judges into thinking that what we are doing is easy for us, and to remain calm and composed before a class of the toughest competitors in the nation and do it all of this and more with a smile on our face.

Equestrian riding is a team sport. My team includes my partner Patriot VF, a pure bred Arabian Hunter Pleasure horse.  He is more than my horse, he is my teammate.  Being equestrian athletes is more than the personal physical boundaries that are pushed; sometimes the emotional barriers have been as real and difficult to overcome as the physical.  There is more than just my own thoughts, my own feelings and emotions thrown into the pressures of this sport. There are two minds at work, two hearts, two bodies pushing themselves to their limits and then beyond to meet and share a common goal. Along with the feelings of accomplishment, triumph, and joy that are mutually felt between horse and rider, defeat, disappointment and sorrow are at times the toughest competitors. The emotional toll they take is outstanding, yet their weight seems lighter when shared through the bonds of horse and rider.  These feelings are kindled into a burning desire, a fiery strength and fierce determination when spurred on by the deep connection between the two.

For years I have pushed myself to endure the physical and emotional pressures of this sport, still, I was never considered an “Athlete” by my peers, teachers, or even other sports coaches in high school. I tried valiantly to show them the intensity level of riding. I would continually hear the phrases that are so familiar to equestrian riders, the “I’ve ridden a horse before, its not that hard.” or “All you do is sit there, the horse does all the work” and countless others. They used to infuriate me until I understood their ignorance in what they were saying. To the untrained eye, the look of simplicity is apparent, just as a professional dancer moves with seemingly effortless grace, as does the strength of an equestrian and their mount. The strain and labor is meant to go unseen, the truly great athletes of any sport convey the impression of ease. Although in any other sport the need to collaborate with a 1200 plus pound animal and remain hidden behind the veil of leisure and passivity is non existent. The lucid athletic ability is obvious to the riders themselves, despite being perceived as undemanding and elementary to ignorant or misinformed critics.

The basic point of this post being, I love riding. I am completely dedicated to it. There is nothing else in this word I would work as hard to obtain. I've spent a few days thinking about it, with show season a couple months away I am being pushed harder to get in shape, lose weight, and other things, I have had 'non horsey' people tell me I was crazy and I was starting to think so too until I spent a night with an equally as dedicated friend and realized this is what I love.

Its worth it to me.