I entered the ring toward the end of the 40 entries. No one yet risked what I had in mind, and I second guessed my idea. But my coach encouraged me to go for the win, take the chance. “Just be accurate,” she said.
I was riding Douwe, a technical and fast horse. He is a mental ride because he intuitively seems to know what is in my mind. I have to think brave and he will jump brave. When I ride him, I feel invincible… weightless. He feels free — and fast. Fast is his happy place and together, we go all out.
That particular day was chaos. It was March 15 and The Winter Equestrian Festival was shutting down two weeks early because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The mood was burdened and pressured. Each ride felt like a last chance, so I wanted it to matter. I came up with a unique strategy to win – perhaps unorthodox and risky — but not unheard of. In fact, I saw Olympian McClain Ward and his acclaimed student, Adrienne Sternlicht, both execute this move: Jumping the decorative hedges between jumps to cut a corner, shave off time and win in international competition. I knew I could do it too — even at the junior level.
This was the low junior classic – not the highest-level jumper class but highly competitive with many top junior riders. We were careful in round one, and clear. The bell rang for the jump off and I had about 45 seconds to organize my thoughts, regain Douwe’s focus and get to the first fence. I trotted over to the flower boxes so Douwe could see them and not be surprised when I presented them again later as a jump. He was antsy, unsettled.
He knew what was coming. We turned around, I gave him a squeeze and he galloped forward. Game time.
We jumped the first fence boldly – a wide orange oxer. We opened up speed upon landing and 7 strides to jump two… then around the bend of the arena to jump 3. We were flying. I surprised Douwe with a sudden right-hand turn toward the flower boxes and I could feel his hesitation as he wondered where we were going. A smart horse like Douwe knew this was not a normal change in direction. Initially, he locked in on a very high vertical jump next to the flowers. We were going so fast that even a fleeting loss of focus could lose the class. I pulled his eye to the flowers – and he understood. He jumped early, surprising me. But we made it up-and-over, picking up speed again toward an in-and-out, which are two jumps set in a line — easy to knock down if you jump in too big, too short, too fast or too flat. We were clear over both and then dug in around the corner extending Douwe’s stride and power. Imagine cornering in the most sensitive race car or banking a turn in the air in the most powerful fast fighter jet… that’s what it feels like to fly around on Douwe. We sailed over the oxer by the in gate and for a moment I could hear the whoops and hollers of the crowd. But the world quickly went silent again except for Douwe’s hooves hitting the ground toward the last fence. Then…. slow motion. In the seven strides to the last fence – I knew if we left the last fence up – we’d be champions.
It helps to count the horse’s steps in order to keep rhythm and pace. Out loud, I counted down, “Three, two, one, GO!” Douwe exploded over the last wide jump and bolted through the times. The jump stayed up. Our time was 2 seconds faster than the second-place rider. I was awash in pride for what we accomplished. It was like the radio turned up because suddenly the crowd’s whooping and yelling was so loud. I saw my coach, my mom and my friends jumping with excitement. Adrenaline, joy and gratitude filled me, and I reached down to pat Douwe’s neck. What an incredible partner! These weren’t the highest jumps. This wasn’t a championship final. This division – this moment in time was a steppingstone toward bigger goals. And as much as I wish, Douwe isn’t even my horse. But he gives me 101% because I ask that of him. Like all horses, he asks for so little in return: Food, kindness and care. Douwe and all of the horses in my life this far have made me who I am. In their unique ways and personalities, each has taught me to be patient, to balance, to forgive, to feel, to understand and to know when to go big or go home. For the love of the horse, the mentoring of my coaches, the support from so many people and the sacrifices of my family – I am grateful.