If you’ve followed along on Instagram over the past few months, you’ve probably noticed things look a little different around here. The jump photos have slowly been replaced with reels of dressage tests, black tack, and a whole ‘nother horse.
What’s funny is that, from the outside, it probably looks like this happened overnight. One day I was talking about jumper rounds, then I dropped off the face of the earth, and the next I was sharing dressage tests and celebrating victories. In reality, though, this wasn’t a sudden decision at all. Looking back now, I think this journey started years before I ever realized it. Sometimes life has a funny way of leading you exactly where you’re meant to be, even when you’re convinced you’re headed somewhere completely different.
Like many riders, I came into the sport as a child in up-down lessons at a generic lesson barn. Eventually I ended up in dressage and fell in love. I loved the precision, the quiet communication between horse and rider, and the idea that every ride was an opportunity to become just a little bit better than the day before. There was something almost mesmerizing about watching a horse move with such harmony that the difficult looked effortless. Plus, who doesn’t love a fun freestyle? As a kid, I couldn’t always explain why I loved it so much; I just knew I did.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t always let us stay on the path we’re on. For reasons that had nothing to do with the sport itself, I stepped away from dressage. It wasn’t a decision I made because I had stopped loving it or because I thought another discipline was somehow better. At the time, walking away simply felt like the easiest thing to do. Eventually I convinced myself that chapter of my riding career had closed, and I threw myself wholeheartedly into the hunter jumper world instead. Looking back, I wouldn’t change those years for anything. They introduced me to incredible horses, lifelong friends, unforgettable experiences, and lessons that shaped not only the rider I became but the person I became. Every horse I’ve been lucky enough to own, lease, or simply ride has taught me something different, and every chapter has prepared me for the one that followed. Even while I was chasing bigger jumper goals, though, there was always a small part of me that slowed down whenever a beautiful dressage freestyle came across my screen or whenever I saw my dressage friends thriving. I didn’t realize it then, but I don’t think I had ever really stopped loving dressage. I had simply convinced myself that it belonged to a different version of my life. It’s probably why I wanted so badly for Phim to be successful in the dressage ring, even if it isn’t his true calling.
After many talks with friends, family, and my trainers, I decided that Phim was ready to take a step back from being competitive on the A Circuit. Even though he is going around better than ever and I always leave the ring with a smile on my face, he isn’t getting any younger and I would much rather spend time with him doing what he loves with minimal tantrums, rather than chasing results or ribbons. We even did a Novice event in the fall and did really well. But with Phim stepping back, I was at a loss for where I wanted to go with my riding. But with a lot of thoughtful reflection (and therapy), I realized my heart was still with dressage.
I wish I could tell you that I searched high and low, in every nook and cranny, and spent months finding just the right horse for me on this new-ish adventure. But that isn’t what happened. I put out a call through my trainer and friends with my extensive wishlist. And trust me, it was extensive. Between everybody, I probably watched hundreds of videos and read countless ads for lovely horses. No matter how many super nice horses I saw, I always kept coming back to one horse. He was pitch black with a cute little star and the most luscious mane & tail. It certainly didn’t hurt anything that he was a super mover and met all of my criteria, right down to the color. The only downside was that he was 2,500 miles away in north Washington state. Because of that, it didn’t really seem feasible to make that far of a trip to try just one horse, so we kind of pushed him to the side. Despite having a Wellington trip scheduled and a list of horses to try while I was there, I still could not get this gelding out of my head. So, I made the most horse girl decision ever, and spontaneously added a 2 day trip to Seattle onto the back of our yearly friend group ski trip. Not only was I lugging all my ski gear with me, but I now had to bring my helmet and boots too, much to my boyfriend’s dismay (psst… I make him carry the heavy bags).
Enter Bravour.
Our trial was probably one of the most humbling rides I have ever had. I’d spent weeks watching videos of this horse making everything look effortless. Then I climbed on and immediately realized just how much I had to learn. It wasn’t a disaster, but it certainly wasn’t pretty either. I left that ride humbled, excited, and somehow even more convinced that he was exactly the horse I needed. So we did all the things and on Valentine’s Day he became officially mine. I’ll write an entire post someday about why exactly I chose him, because that’s a story all on its own, but what I can tell you now is that he has completely changed the way I think about riding. Yes, he’s talented. Yes, he has a solid record. But those things, impressive as they are, aren’t what make him so special to me.
What makes Brav different is who he is. He is kind in a way that gives you confidence instead of taking it away. He expects you to try your best, but never makes you feel like your mistakes define you. Every ride leaves me feeling like I’ve learned something, even if that lesson wasn’t what I expected when I climbed into the saddle. He can also happily give pony rides, hack around bareback in a halter, and stand around while I needlepoint. Owning Brav has reminded me why I fell in love with horses in the first place. Somewhere along the way, my relationship with horses was less about being a horsewoman and more about checking off goals. Between the ribbons, the results, and constantly chasing the next milestone, I lost sight of why I fell in love with them in the first place. Brav brought me back. Every ride asks me to be more patient, more thoughtful, and more aware. Not just of what Brav is doing, but of what I’m asking him to do and whether I’ve earned the answer. That’s what drew me back to dressage.
People often ask why I decided to switch back, but the truth is, I don’t really think of it as switching. It feels much more like returning to something that has always quietly been a part of me. The little girl who fell in love with dressage all those years ago never really disappeared. She was just waiting until I was ready to find my way back. And maybe that’s why this feels so different because I’m not chasing someone else’s dream anymore. I’m chasing my own.
I have big goals for Brav and I. I’d love to earn my USDF medals, continue moving up the levels, and one day ride down a Grand Prix centerline. Those dreams are exciting, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about them often. At the time I’m writing this, he has already helped me to finish off my Bronze medal, get me the first two scores towards my Silver, and I just picked up my shadbelly for our FEI debut. That is almost all of my long-term goals checked off in less than 6 months. But for the first time in a very long time, I’m just as excited about the ordinary days as I am about the milestones. I love the quiet mornings at the barn, the rides where one small piece finally clicks, and the feeling of walking out of the arena knowing that both of us are a little better than we were yesterday.
If this journey has taught me anything so far, it’s that sometimes the dreams we think we’ve left behind aren’t really gone at all. They’re simply waiting for the right horse, the right season of life, and the right version of ourselves to finally catch up to them. For me, that dream was patiently waiting in a dressage arena… and, as it turns out, in the form of a black gelding named Bravour.
