As a horse person who grew up in a show barn and rode on two collegiate equestrian teams, I’ve always been surrounded by a barn family. But as someone who loved early morning and late night rides alone at an empty barn, I did not think that I would miss that community aspect of boarding as much as I do now.
Don’t get me wrong, I love having my horses in my backyard. I know I am living every horse girl’s dream and I wouldn’t change it for anything. But I guess I just never realized how community-oriented our sport really is until that community wasn’t readily accessible to me anymore.
I’m going into my third year of barn ownership and to say that I thought it would be easier to live and breathe the industry everyday would be a vast understatement. As a lifelong boarder, I never truly understood just how much goes into the maintenance of a horse property. The daily horse care, facility repairs, and pasture management are not necessarily the most difficult jobs, but they are way more time consuming than I had imagined. This leaves me with little time to work and train my personal horses.
I am always grateful for the time I get to spend with my horses. I often find myself missing the companionship of a fellow equestrian on the aisle, to bounce training exercises off of while grooming and to encourage me when I’m not feeling 100% confident. I miss the accountability and the support that comes with a barn friend, and sometimes I even miss the chance to roll my eyes as that one rude boarder walks past with her nose in the air, dragging a reluctant mount behind her. Every barn has drama and although I can’t say I am upset to have left that behind, it is comforting to be around people who share a passion so central to who you are, even despite the annoying and entitled few here and there.
For a sport that is so focused on the individual team of horse and rider, it is easy to forget how much we depend on each other. A friend to small talk with during walking breaks, to run back to the trailer to grab the crop you forgot, or to send you blurry photos of your horse to you while you are on vacation. These friends might not even be your friends out in the “real world,” but that you connect with them on the sole level of loving the sport and the horses that make it possible for both of you.
I love riding alone — that much hasn’t changed. I love not having to share the arena, not having to ride around a large group lesson, not trying to avoid the kid who can’t quite steer her pony yet, and being able to ride without pressure or fear of judgmental eyes watching. I love the quiet moments I get to spend with my horse, those moments that remind me why I love this sport, the feeling of being on the back of a horse, and the sensation of flying. But when I dismount and I have put my horse back out in his pasture, I can’t help but wish there was someone there to share it with.
Maybe I really only miss the unspoken competition I create between myself and fellow riders, pushing me to become better? Maybe it’s just being able to have a verbal conversation with a horse person that doesn’t exist in the confines of a Facebook group? Maybe it’s knowing that there is another person somewhere brushing their horse, sharing their own private, quiet moments? I think it is knowing that even if you never talk about it, and even if you don’t particularly like each other as people, you both know what it’s like to live as an equestrian and to really love a horse.