Choose The Horse First And The Sport Second

It’s a sentiment we’ve all heard before as people with horses: “choose the horse first, and the sport second.” And it’s a good one.

But it’s honestly easier said than done.

I think we can all agree to the meaning behind the phrase. But how many of us put it into practice when the time comes?

Choosing a life that involves caring for horses almost ensures some bit of heartbreak. Setbacks are inevitable. Injuries are nearly guaranteed. But equestrians are some of the toughest people I know, because of the sense of resolve instilled in them from living through these tough moments of grief and failure.

To use another turn of phrase: actions speak louder than words. It’s what we do in the aftermath of these dark moments that matter most. Even if it extends the depth of the heartbreak.

Over the past three years, I’ve searched endlessly for that desperate resolve, that sense of purpose to guide me through injury after injury with my one and only heart horse. After many years of success in the show ring, we’d hit a series of poorly timed injuries. None were fatal. He’s recovered from each and every one. But the recoveries were long and as they piled on, it became harder to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

My horse is not old. At 13, he should be in his athletic prime. But instead of charting plans to reach our goals and move up the levels, I’m just hoping to find a way to keep him happy and healthy for the years to come.

I’ve given up hope of returning to the sport I love so much – three-day eventing. It is not suited for my horse anymore, given the injuries he’s sustained. But I understand I should be grateful that I still have my horse at all. Plenty of others have lost more than me. But it doesn’t make grieving the end of a career with my favorite partner any easier.

There are other sports, more suited to keeping my horse sound for the long run, that undoubtedly we will pursue when the time comes. But 20-meter circles hardly gets my adrenaline pumping as it used to when we left the start box on cross-country.

I could buy or lease another horse, of course, to keep pursuing these dreams. If I could afford it. But still, what does that mean for the one who did so much for me, and still requires the same amount of care?

I am choosing the horse first.

Maybe he’ll be a dressage horse. Maybe just a trail horse. Or maybe, just a pasture pet. It is not for me to decide.

So for now, I try to avoid the posts on social media of friends winning ribbons and qualifying for championships. I feel guilty and petty for not always being able to put my own selfish feelings aside and be happy for their successes. I am jealous. I am stuck in the past, wishing I could relive those old glory days.

But one day, I won’t feel that way anymore. For now, I’m just trying to give myself grace.

And I will let my horse just be a horse. I hope and pray that we still have many more days together, even if there’s no saddle involved any longer.