Category: Blog

OYES Feature: Lara Ambo
By admin

OYES Feature: Lara Ambo

I was born and raised in the Philippines but I’ve been living in the Bay Area for about nine years. Since I was a little girl, I was always fascinated by horses. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was about them that mesmerized me, all I know is that the more I’m scared of something, the more I want to do it. My curiosity and fascination about horses turned into passion. I guess you can say it was in my blood all along.

In the Philippines, it was uncommon to have horse lessons or horse facilities that educated people about horses. I recall going to a park where you could rent horses and people will lead you to do multiple laps. Being young and naive, I wasn’t aware that proper attire is a must. I was just wearing sandals, shorts, a t-shirt not to mention I didn’t even know wearing a helmet was crucial. I told the worker to let go of the line and that I want to be in charge. By doing so, I made the horse trot. Back then I didn’t know it was called a “trot,” all I know is that as long as it’s not a walk speed, it’s good. I tried to do a 2 point position to copy the jockeys from the racing movies.

From then on, whenever I could, I would ask my mom to take me to the park. We’d go once in a blue moon, but I always looked forward to riding again. When we moved to America, I thought my dream would finally come true, but just like the saying goes, “it’s not always greener on the other side”. For years I tried to persuade my parents to let me take horse lessons but they argued that it’s too dangerous, expensive, and no one can drive me. I tried to make up solutions and plans just to make it work but I was always shut down.

My dad always preached that if I can’t find a way to make it work without involving others, there is no way it’s going to happen. I never gave up and kept bugging them for my ideas on how to make it work but it was always rejected by them. It was an unwinnable situation. Being a retired sergeant, my dad was strict when it came to teaching me how to drive. Three months of learning how to drive a stick shift with him felt like hell. I didn’t give up because I knew that if I wanted to accomplish my dream, I had to learn to be independent from them. I also started working at FedEx to save up money for college and riding lessons but doing a lesson once a week was still too expensive for me. I can drive, I work, I study hard, and make sure my chores are done that way so they can’t say anything against me, and once I felt ready again to ask them if they’ll allow me to ride, again they said, “No, it’s too dangerous.”

I got so frustrated that I told them I respect their decisions but I’m tired of wasting my life not doing the thing I love the most. I decided that no one could stop me from reaching my dreams this time. The next day, I went “barn hopping” to inquire and find a perfect match for what I was looking for. I had zero experience, but I was willing to learn and volunteer but unfortunately, no one was willing to take my offer.

Finally, I found Piedmont Stables. For about six months, I was just going up there everyday, greeting the staff and the horses. I was trying to advertise myself and making connections from scratch. After months of networking, I found a lady who was willing to let me lease her horse.

When I took my horse lesson for the first time, my trainer asked me what my goal was and I told her I want to learn equitation and jumping. After a year of leasing a horse, I realized that my goal has changed. I want to be the best equestrian version of myself. My goal is to learn and expand my knowledge of different disciplines such as western and English. I want to learn more about saddle fitting, conformation, training a green horse, liberty training, natural horsemanship, what it takes to be a good horse owner, what it takes to own a horse related business, and other horse related things. I want to continue my equestrian lifestyle for the rest of my life.

I was happy when I started taking lessons once a week, but I found it difficult to feel proud of myself because I can’t help but compare myself to other children who are younger and better than me. Deep inside I was ashamed that I started riding at the age of 18 and can’t help but ask myself “I wonder if I would be jumping by now if I started riding when I was 12?” I became hard on myself and grew to hate myself each day whenever I don’t see any progress because I was trying to make up for the time I wasted. Feeling insecure about myself and my riding is an ongoing challenge.

I’ve always wanted to have my own horse but I want to make sure I have all the knowledge I can get and also make sure that it is the right timing to do so. Being a good horsewoman and trainer is something that is a process and doesn’t have limitations. I started my learning process when I leased my first horse and ever since then I was eager to expand my knowledge and skills.

I currently attend college part-time for art and design and work at FedEx part-time. I’m still not fully decided on what I want to pursue as a career because I am torn between following the “Known” path as an art teacher where I have a secure job but I am not passionate about it versus the “Unknown” path where I pursue my passion for horses. I’m not sure where or how to start and make it into a successful career. Someday, I want to have my own ranch where I can use it to collaborate with a school and have students do volunteer work, or a group of students can make a riding club at their school. I just want to give BIPOC students an opportunity to start a career related to horses at a young age.

OYES Feature: Milan Berry
By admin

OYES Feature: Milan Berry

Usually when I tell people that I speak Chinese and ride horses, I get more than a few head-turns and eyebrow raises. Being an African American woman, most people wouldn’t expect me to speak one of the world’s hardest languages, as well as have the ability and physicality to control a one-ton animal with my heels, leg, and seat.

I think that it takes a special type of person to willingly walk into an unknown situation with no allies or support system behind you, and still come out swinging and successful. I’d like to think that I am experienced in this aspect, as some of the most important parts of me stem from being the “only one”.  I believe it truly makes me unique, an anomaly, but never in a negative sense.

My name is Milan Berry. I am a senior at Georgia Southern University double majoring in International Studies and Chinese Language, and I am the current Secretary of the Georgia Southern Equestrian Team. Through this University-sponsored club team, I have been riding English consistently in weekly lessons for around 4 years now, and the Equestrian Team is trained by Eleanor Ellis, out of Evermore Farm. English is truly the discipline I am passionate about, but my wildest hopes and dreams stem from eventing. Watching the horses gallop cross-country, jumping over monster sized landscapes gets my adrenaline pumping. This is why eventing is my favorite discipline, one I hope to be able to participate in within the near future.

Horses have been a lifelong fascination for me. As a toddler, and I vividly remember watching the 1994 version of Black Beauty on cassette tape. Watching the black stallion gallop across fields, throw its head and rear took my breath away in ways I still remember clearly to this day. They were magical creatures, animals that were so big but so full of life and personality. Ever since then, I have been fascinated with them and the sport that horseback riding is.

Since I am completely financially independent from my parents, I use money from my student loan refund to pay for lessons, as well as show fees and riding clothes. This is the only way I would be able to afford riding, and I also work two part-time jobs to afford extra lessons and showing opportunities. I am the only African American English rider on my Equestrian team, and I am the first POC to serve in an officer’s position in the entire history of the club. As the secretary of the Georgia Southern Equestrian Team, I am responsible for recruitment and the management of our social media profiles and influence. Currently I only show in walk-trot, but I attend two lessons weekly where I walk, trot, canter, and have jumped up to 2 foot. Although it is hard to ignore when I am the only POC lessoning and competing, I have never allowed this isolation to stop me.

Throughout my time riding, I quickly became aware of the fact that I was isolated via race. I noticed it while watching the Olympics in 2016, I noticed that I never saw people of color in the Dover catalogs I receive in the mail. I especially noticed it in the show ring, when even to this day I am often the only person of color competing. Although the horses that we ride do not see color or race, it is hard to be the only person who looks like you in a show ring or lesson. It is hard to not see many people of your race at the very top of the sport, competing in Grand Prixes and winning hundred thousand-dollar derbies. And it is especially hard as of recently with so many large equestrian companies and brands speaking out about diversity and inclusiveness in our sport, and to see many influential equestrians speak against it. How do I explain my experiences to people when there are so few people like me to share theirs as well? Having the monetary funds to maintain horses is a privilege that many people don’t understand, especially if they were born into the lifestyle that I try my best to spread awareness of this fact, as riding horses has truly taught me the results of hard-work, perseverance, consistency, and grit.

When I think back to my younger self, I would have never imagined being in the position I am today. There were a variety of factors that prohibited my ability to ride when I was younger, but the most significant ones were finances and distance. Due to financial hardship within my family, riding as consistently as I do was a dream to me at one point in time. I remember begging my parents for lessons, giving them all types of addresses and names of barns that they could take me to. But as I grew up and kept asking, I quickly realized how expensive horses were. Average lesson prices in my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia are around $60.00 to $70.00 dollars an hour, and even as a pre-teen I knew my family couldn’t afford it. This didn’t stop me though. Right around the age of 14 and 15, I began catching Atlanta’s public transportation system to get around the city. This gave me a wider range of freedom, and I spent countless hours on buses and trains to get to a therapeutic riding program I began volunteering at about 20 miles north of the city center. These volunteer sessions taught me the most basic skills, such as tacking up and grooming. This was how I got my “horse fix” my freshman year of high school, and my interactions with horses only grew from there. I later accepted two working student positions in the summer of 2014 at a hunter/jumper barn, and the summer of 2016 at a local trail-riding business. After 2016, I did not ride another horse until I was a freshman at Georgia Southern. 

As a double major in International Studies and Chinese Language, other countries and cultures have always intrigued me. I began learning Chinese at the age of 14 and learning the language had provided me two international experiences before I turned 21. I am proud to say that studying Chinese led me to the opportunity of becoming a Benjamin Gilman Scholar, a U.S. Department of State program that funds study abroad initiatives for low-income students. I spent a month attending East China Normal University in the Summer of 2019, taking a Chinese International Relations class. I learned about different aspects of China’s international relationships with other countries, as well as key details about Chinese foreign policy. Receiving this scholarship was truly life-changing, as it opened my eyes to the possibilities of a career abroad and specifically within the Foreign Service. The fellowships that I am applying for could potentially completely pay for my graduate school and assure me a career within the U.S. Department of State. My goal is that I will earn enough money to own my own horse someday and be able to afford lessons and training as well.

The opportunity provided by the Optimum Youth Equestrian Scholarship means the world to me. I am truly grateful to use this riding scholarship to not only improve my personal riding skills, but to raise and encourage awareness for diversity and inclusion in the sport itself. Horses have taught me the value of patience, hard work, perseverance, and above all the will to excel no matter my environment. Thank you for believing in me and I hope we will be able to bring people from all walks of life into the wonderful place that is the equestrian community.

Act Now, Talk Later
By admin

Act Now, Talk Later

In June, I attended the Diversity in Horse Sports forum hosted by Heels Down Mag for a few reasons: I wanted to listen to stories of equestrians whose paths have differed from mine, I wanted to learn from these horse women, and I wanted to know what I could do to help. 


The simple, clear answer came from Abriana Johnson: “Act first, talk about it later.” She acknowledged that solidarity with an Instagram post is a nice gesture, but it’s simply that: a gesture. She questioned the audience of nearly a hundred equestrians, “What are you doing in your community? What funds have you allocated? How have you used your influence to make a difference?”


Time for action. A seed of an idea was planted that night, and with the help of many others it took root and began to grow. Today, alongside my friends and co-board members, Shaquilla Blake and Jacqueline Ely, we are excited to announce the launch of Optimum Youth Equestrian Scholarship which will give financial stipends for riding, training or showing and also provide mentorship for young equestrians.


Our mission is to provide opportunities for youth aged 17-27 from marginalized communities to become involved or stay involved in horse sports through financial awards and mentorship focusing on not only horsemanship and equestrian pursuits, but also career planning and education. We believe that opportunities for riding, training, and showing are not easily attainable to individuals facing socioeconomic and accessibility hurdles as well as overt and passive discrimination based upon their race, sexual orientation, or gender identity. Together we seek to bridge this gap through the sharing of knowledge, opportunities, and solidarity. 


All applicants will be matched with a mentor who will be asked to meet virtually with the youth applicant at least once. Ongoing communication will be up to the mentor and the applicant to decide upon, but our goal is that within these meetings, mentors can provide perspective on career choices, share resources and ideas to help further that applicant’s riding goals, or even connect applicants with potential opportunities within the mentor’s circle– opening doors for connections that lead to internships, jobs, or meetings with helpful horse people from the applicant’s area.

The board of O-YES. Read more about us on the
scholarship page

Our mentors have competed or trained in eventing, dressage, hunters, jumpers, and even working equitation. We have amateurs and professionals alike who have started young horses, retrained off the track Thoroughbreds, and developed their own show horses. The horsemanship skills range from running a backyard farm, to showing on a budget, to managing an equine business. With mentors from most major cities across the US and a wide variety of colleges and universities, we hope that these connections will open doors for the applicants and provide opportunities for young professionals.

A few of our mentors have careers within the horse industry, but most are ambitious amateurs who have chosen careers that will help fund their riding and competition plans. The mentors have joined the program because all of us believe the horses have given us so much: it is time to give back and help others find the empowerment of being a horse person. Want to join us? Head over to the Scholarship page to learn more about ways to donate, mentor, or get involved. Together we can make a difference, one rider at a time. 

Can I get an OYES?! Follow us on social media to follow the journey @oyesequestrian
The Perfect Sale Ad
By admin

The Perfect Sale Ad

Each time you scroll by a sale ad, it must depict the ‘perfect horse.’ The ad will tout all of the virtues of this horse, starting with the most basic skills: loads, ties, stands for the vet and farrier, easy to clip and to bathe, sound, no vices, cooperative in turnout with other horses… but all of that stuff you just gloss over. It’s a formality, a prerequisite. Of course every horse can do those things, right? Wrong.


Now having the privilege of taming and training my very own ‘feral horse’ I am here to tell you that this dream horse you’re looking at online doesn’t “just do” those things. Someone taught that horse all of those skills with painstaking repetition and thoughtful preparation and the patience of someone who has never owned a watch or a calendar.


I’m not saying little Lucy isn’t wonderful and she’s definitely as easy as they come. BUT, it has taken me nearly 11 months just to install these prerequisites of “How to Horse” with the help of a lot of YouTube, countless books, and endless phone calls to people who have bravely and successfully completed the baby thing before me. (A lot of people are in this category, but mostly it’s been Nina Catanzarite, shout out to her!) 


Some things were quite straightforward and Lucy more or less learned ‘by the book’ with me following the plans that the experts recommended. My mantra was always ‘one step at a time’ and the only hard thing about that process was learning how to laugh it off when people would inquire, “well have you done this yet, have you done that yet, when are you going to ride her?!” I learned with sweet ol’ Beau that it’s a heck of a lot easier and faster to do something right the first time, than if you have to go back and undo your hasty mistakes. Within weeks, Lucy had learned how to lead, tie, and stand and I was just thrilled. 


Our next major goal was trailer loading, which also went more or less according to plan, albeit very slowly and methodically. It did not take long to figure out that Lucy was very sensitive, very timid, but also very smart. Her being a quick study could easily work against me if I accidentally taught her to expect a bad experience, or if she learned that her fear was justified. We started out with the most basic task: put your little hoof onto a tarp. Now onto a piece of plywood. Now walk the whole way across it. Now walk across it with two barrels on either side. Now the barrels get more narrow and touch you, keep walking across it. Now back through. Now stand on it. These little steps were done one tiny bit a time, never more than one step in a day. She was always cautious and always skeptical, but as long as I only asked for a little more, then a little more, she obliged and grew more confident. Eventually we started feeding her dinner on the trailer ramp. Then in the trailer. Then we put the butt bar up and gave her some snacks. We walked on and off, on and off. We did one test lap around the block. We hauled her to a nearby farm with a friend. Then farther away and without a friend. (Shout out to Katey Simons for all of her help with this!) Months later, and she’s a trailer loading pro.


But this blog isn’t about the times that her training went according to plan. It’s about the things it took her six months to get over (clippers) or nine months to get over (fly spray) or my latest major victory: bathing. That was a hard one, and I’m lucky we conquered the other two super intense activities first, or… well, let’s just leave it at that.


Lucy is a dressage horse (or she will be) so it’s a good thing that she’s sensitive to the lightest touch on her body. But it can completely overwhelm her into a panic. My saving grace is that she has learned how to love being groomed and being massaged. After slow, patient sessions, she learned to relax into the rhythm of each touch and stand quietly. I used gentle massage techniques to help relax her during our first sessions with a girth and it was only with the help of a soft brush that I was able to acclimate her to the sound and sensation of fly spray and clippers. But the hose, oh my goodness, the hose!! It took two solid months for me to convince her the hose was not a predator. During those two months, I just quietly groomed and tacked her up in the wash stall and didn’t even look at the hose. We then graduated to grooming and tacking up in the wash stall while I held the hose and didn’t do anything with it while everyone laughed at me. Then I started grooming her while I gently sprayed the hose, but didn’t dare touch her with a drop of water. I will never forget how joyful it felt to finally spray her little foot on the ‘mist’ setting only. It took how many months, but finally I was able to spray my filly’s left front foot with the hose!


After that monumental breakthrough, things progressed much more quickly. Day by day, she allowed me to touch more and more of her body with the water. This (fortunately) coincided with a nasty heat wave so not only did I absolutely need to hose her off, she began to find the water much more tolerable. Within a week, she was able to stand quietly while I simultaneously brushed her to soothe her with the familiar feeling of grooming while also spraying her ever so gently with the hose. (To date, we have only mastered the mist setting, but I have my eyes on the prize, aka, shower setting. And someday, bubbles too). 


So why am I telling this incredibly silly story of bathing my three year old? To remind myself how impossibly impossible this was just a few months ago and that there will be more impossibilities in the future with this horse.  And to have a little chuckle about those perfect horse for sale ads. Lucy now stands stands quietly in crossties, loads like a champ, is adored by her vet and farrier, and soon, will be a pro at bubble baths. But how is she under saddle? I guess we’ll find out!

My neatly groomed and braided filly at her first show! Trotting that triangle was the easy part.
Photo courtesy Kate Rebecca Photography
Labor of Love
By admin

Labor of Love

Eight weeks ago, when I moved Lucy to a boarding barn, I had plenty of plans for what she was going to learn next. With access to an indoor arena and lights making it possible for me to work with her in the short, dark days of winter, I thought she’d progress even more rapidly than she did in her first 12 weeks with me. 

Not. So. Much.

Little trouble and big trouble, Lucy & Charlie Brown

I don’t want to say ‘things quickly unraveled,’ but they pretty much did. My once sweet and mild mannered filly was a little overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of a training barn with 30 horses and all the equipment that comes with it. The arena I dreamed of working in became a terrifying death trap in her mind, and we had to make a quick exit anytime another horse entered. Some days she still had her stop, go, and turn buttons and other days she was a terrified mess. Some days I was proud that I could lead her down a very steep hill in the dark and the wind and other days I had to ask myself, ‘am I in the mood to almost die today?’

Am I the mood to put on 8 layers of pants and then almost die? Sure.
Photo credit: Kate Rebecca Photography

After a particularly traumatizing day involving two geldings in turnout charging at her (because I was stupid enough to try to lead her past two geldings in turnout), then being cornered between a dump truck and a tractor while on crossties, followed by a flock of chickens flying into her face, she was fried. I drove home feeling utterly defeated and wondered if the poor little thing would ever let me catch her again after everything I put her through. I felt lost, not sure what to do next. I was plagued with self-doubt, able to convince myself that every move I made was wrong. To leave her in the field and forget about it was to avoid and ignore the problem. To bring her out and confront the scary world was overfacing her. I convinced myself I didn’t know her well enough to know what the answer was, and each day when something went wrong, as it inevitably would, I told myself it was proof that I was making the wrong choice day after day.

All of this came, of course, in a super fun string of windchills in the teens kind of days. It came on the heels of an abscess for her and for her overly-attached and over bearing pasture mate, the infamous Charlie Brown. It occurred when real-life and my day job were approaching that nearly unmanageable level of crazy that makes you want to just stay home and hibernate.  Lucky for me, that’s never an option though. Barn girls don’t get nights off, not when horses need to be fed and hoses thawed to fill up ice-crusted water buckets. So night after night I went to the barn anyways. On nights I didn’t want to do anything with her, I at least did something. I insisted on manners coming in and out of the gate. I picked up that foot she didn’t want to give me. I tried to show her that clippers aren’t that scary. But night after night, I kicked myself for not doing more, for letting all those weekly and monthly goals written on my calendar just slip by.

Despite the frozen mud under my feet, I was feeling spring creeping up and beyond that, the summer show season I had been dreaming about. I started whining to my friends and my husband about it (Sorry, Krissy. Sorry, Art.) and as I heard myself whining and making all of my excuses, I realized that Lucy’s lack of confidence had been wearing off on me. It was supposed to be the other way around. I was supposed to be the fearless leader making this baby horse feel more confident, yet in the ways that animals often do, she was the one training me. I was becoming afraid and I was avoiding everything that was terrifying me.

Per usual, I came home cold and grumpy and defeated one of those nights that were like all of the other nights. Read something, my husband told me. Maybe you can find some answers in one of those training books. Indeed, my bedside table is stacked with books on dressage, massage, and starting youngsters (thank you Nina!) and I’ve been slowly making my way through all of them. I wasn’t drawn to any of the practical how-to texts that night though and something made me reach for the more philosophical ‘Horsemanship,’ the old classic by Waldemar Seunig gifted to me by Kristin Hermann many moons ago. I opened it to the last dog-eared page and not two paragraphs in to where I’d last left off was the section on the psychological qualities of the rider. He outlines three, but most importantly, above all else, the very first one is: LOVE THE HORSE.

“A horse will overcome its inborn shyness and gain confidence, the fundamental condition for mutual understanding, with a man whose love it feels.”

As I read on, it became clearer and clearer that this was exactly the advice and perspective that I needed that night. Why did I get this baby horse in the first place? Why do I have a fat retiree living his best life as a pasture puff? Because I love them. I love caring for them, I love training them. I love the horribly non-linear process that is progress with horses, I do. The motivation for training has to be rooted in the love for the animal.

In the finger-freezing cold and the brain-numbing dark of winter it’s a little easier to lose sight of this and get bogged down in the monotony of day-to-day survival. It sure doesn’t feel like progress and it sure isn’t very rewarding. But despite the lack of reportable progress, I have to remind myself that it’s not all for nothing. Each day she comes in and out of the field like a good citizen and each day she stands to be groomed she is learning something very important–she is learning that I’m her person. My viewpoint was refocused by another helpful passage on the secondmost important facet: PATIENCE.

An excerpt from “Horsemanship” by Waldemar Seunig

“Anyone who loves his horse will be patient, and patience, inexhaustible patience –especially when physical and psychological defects are present–is necessary to make the horse understand what we want of it.”

Despite the recent onslaught of hurdles, I will solider on. I will handle her with the required inexhaustible patience, I will train her with aids as gentle as possible and as firm as necessary. I’ll seek out good trainers and follow the tenets of the masters because damn if I don’t love this little mare already. 

Thankful for: Difficult Roads and Beautiful Destinations
By admin

Thankful for: Difficult Roads and Beautiful Destinations

Perspective is a funny thing. If you would have told me last year that my champion dressage horse was going to be an equine lawnmower this year, I a) wouldn’t have believed you and b) would have been inconsolable and completely crushed. Instead, here we are, a year later and I am positively THRILLED that my Beau is a happy pasture ornament.

I repeat: Beau is now happily living his best life, with his yak coat in its full fluffy glory, his long mane a far cry from the neatly pulled show horse look and his weight solidly in the “thick” category. The old man doesn’t miss many (any) meals and his new hobbies include feeding the birds (pooping) and landscaping (eating). Seeing him calmly and happily enjoying his new life brings my heart a kind of peace I could not have imagined I would have. I’m thankful that the long road of his recovery has seemingly reached and its end and oddly enough I am thankful for the difficulty of that road.

Had things not gotten as bad as they did, I likely would not have found the peace and gratitude I have now, after 11 months of rehabbing a horse on stall rest. I didn’t know it then, but you know what they say about hindsight… after facing other much worse potential outcomes, I feel nothing but gratitude when I see my heart horse enjoying his retirement. Eleven months of daily trips to the barn so that he could enjoy a few minutes outside of his stall. Eleven months of uncertainty weighing on me, unsure of what his future would look like. Eleven months of hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Eleven months of closing him in his stall every night and knowing he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go outside. That anguish has made me truly grateful for the normalcy and peacefulness of the present. It is such a simple and a profound joy–to pull into the barn driveway and see your beloved friend in the pasture, as happy as could be.

Meanwhile in the pasture next door, Lucy is working on growing up to be a real horse. I don’t yet have the bond and the emotional connection with her like I do with her big brother, but I do believe she’s going to become something special. Each day I work on teaching her “how to horse” and I am so very grateful for the promise of a bright future with her. I don’t expect her to ever fill his shoes (I mean, come on, his feet are huge) but with any luck she’ll grow up to be a good citizen and a horse that allows me continue to compete in the sport I love and take part in the life I am so passionate about. I know that it’ll be a difficult road ahead with her too–raising and training a two-year-old isn’t for the faint of heart either. But I know now that difficult journeys lead to the most rewarding and beautiful destinations. I’m up for the challenge because I know where ever this road takes us, I’m headed in the right direction.

With the difficult journey behind us at long last, I am grateful for the eight seasons I spent competing my heart horse. To me, it feels like it ended too soon but in retrospect–what a career. I am so very grateful to still have this special horse in my life, doing what he’s always done.  Some might look at these retirees as senselessly expensive pets, horses who no longer serve a purpose. I realized that not only does this horse still have a purpose, it’s the exact purpose he’s had all along: to bring me joy.

I cannot tell you that these last eleven months have not been a difficult road to travel, but someway somehow I ended up somewhere beautiful.

Famous Last Words
By admin

Famous Last Words

“It can’t hurt just to go look!” That’s what my trainer told me. “We’re not going to buy this horse, we’re just going to take a look.” That’s what I (very earnestly) told my husband. “Oh, it’s never just looking!” That’s what all of you said to me after I brought my new filly home, just two months after I first laid eyes on her, the newly named Fürst Look OE (Fürst Impression x Movado’s Contessa/Lansing).

To be fair, I wasn’t looking, not really anyways. Many months into Beau’s rehab when it became clear that he wasn’t going to recover to the point of being my show horse again, my trainer and I talked about the possibility of a new horse once Beau fully retired. It felt overwhelming, beginning the search for a new partner when I was so attached to the one I’d just lost. And while I knew I didn’t have the funds to go out and buy a Third Level horse to pick up where Beau and I left off, I wasn’t prepared for what she told me. When I told her what my budget could be, she said that could get me an unbroke two year old.

So needless to say, I wasn’t brimming with excitement at the possibility. Frankly, I was scared. And also still consumed with my seven day-a-week hand walking routine. But after his re-injury and official retirement, it became clear that was my only option: find a new partner or let go of my dressage dreams. I looked vaguely online. I sent Lisa video links which were quickly whittled down to one or two maybes. I didn’t look very hard or very long. Most of my free time was dedicated to searching for retirement farms for my Beau. 

Then came my first stroke of luck. While horse shopping for a client at High Point Hanoverians in Maryland, she asked the breeder if they had any two year olds suitable for an ambitious amateur on a budget. They showed her a small, plain brown filly with a sun bleached forelock and big inquisitive eyes. Lisa snapped a picture and texted it to me saying, you should take a look at her! I admired the photo then filed this all away in the back of my mind while life hummed along. 

A few weeks later, another little nudge from fate. My husband got an unexpected day off after the 4th of July so we quickly planned an impromptu trip to DC. The information I’d filed away in the back of my mind, crept up to the front. DC… Maryland…. I wonder if we could stop and just take a look at that baby horse while we’re in the same state. Hmmm…. I pitched the idea to my husband by saying, “Oh hey, can we take a little detour and look at that horse? I know I’ll buy a new horse someday, and I really need to just get my feet wet with the horse shopping process. I want to be confident and ready when we do find the right horse.” I may have mentioned that the farm was “on the way.” He’s pretty easygoing and unbelievably supportive, so the short answer was “sure, why not?” 

The farm wasn’t what most people would classify as “on the way” and the little detour may have been more like 3 hours, but lucky for me he’s easily bribed with food and did I mention unbelievably supportive??  He picked a spot to eat oysters in downtown Annapolis and I set up a time to visit the horse I was definitely, absolutely not going to buy. I was determined not to fall in love. I barely told anyone we were planning to do this for fear of getting my hopes up. And after all, I was just looking. I repeat: I was NOT going to buy this horse!

That all changed in a few short minutes. We met her in the barn, where she calmly watched us with those big, captivating eyes. I held her while she was groomed and she batted those lovely long eyelashes at us, melting at least one of us. I told myself I wasn’t a sucker for a pretty face and internally maintained my “I’m not buying this horse” stance. We were there just to go through the motions, to ask the questions, take the video, get my feet wet, that was all. That changed once we got her to the arena. As soon as she started trotting she transformed from a small plain brown horse into something magical. It didn’t take more than 30 seconds of her floating over the ground for me to internally groan and say to myself, “Oh sh!t.” I was NOT supposed to fall in love with this horse. 

I told myself to play it cool, no one had to know I was losing my mind over how unexpectedly fabulous this horse was. I left it with a non-committal, “I’ll call you,” and we got started on the non-horsey portion of our weekend travels. We had a lovely afternoon in Annapolis and a memorable dinner in DC… the little horse was out of sight and out of mind. But the next morning, while my husband snoozed next to me, I was hard at work on my phone, pouring over spreadsheets, drafting budgets, and checking all of our bank accounts. I watched the videos a hundred times. And as soon as Art woke up, I said to him, “I can’t stop thinking about her.” The best horse husbands know that they don’t know the first thing about horses, so in his infinite wisdom, he said, “I think you need to talk to some people.” So I did. I sent the videos around and texted a friend about meeting her, saying, “When I watched her, the part of me that used to dream started to wake up again” Her reply? “Then you have your answer.” 

The third stroke of luck came a week later. The thing I’d really been searching for finally fell into place: I found the perfect retirement home for Beau. It felt like a sign. All systems pointed to go. I recalled the lessons I’d learned from all my years with my heart horse: if you really want something, go for it. My dreaming and scheming mode kicked into gear, and with a lot of help from a lot of people and several harrowing trips back and forth over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, two months later I’d brought a feral two year old home.

So there you have it–the story of how I am now the proud owner of not one, but TWO horses I cannot ride! I am looking forward to all the adventures and surely the challenges to come and I am ever grateful that fate opened up another door for me and has given me a chance to keep chasing these dreams. It couldn’t have happened without the support and encouragement of my trainer, Lisa Hall, who I hope is ready to help me navigate baby horse land! I also need to thank Katey Simons for welcoming my hooligans into her perfect little farm, giving Beau the ideal environment for recovery and retirement and little Lucy a peaceful place to learn the ropes of being a real horse! I want to thank all of my friends for keeping my secret so we wouldn’t jinx it! And for the words of encouragement along the way–it was nice that you told me I wasn’t crazy, even though I’m not so sure myself! A special shout out to Emily Stumm, who willingly spent 13 hours in a truck with me for nothing but a bag of a Fritos and a hug. Thank you to Larissa Barilar of High Point Hanoverians for breeding such a fabulous horse! And last but not least is a thank you to my horse husband who has seen me through all the ups and downs of the last 10 months, and believes in me like no one else. Who knows where this wild ride takes me next, but I’m thanking my lucky stars for all the wonderful humans and horses who will be a part of that journey!   

A Picture’s Worth
By admin

A Picture’s Worth

That’s how the saying goes, a picture’s worth a thousand words. With horses, I think it could be far more than that. Pause to think about what’s behind each photo of every horse and rider… I don’t just mean the crinkling peppermint wrappers or antics intended to get the ears up. I mean think about how many setbacks preceded that smile up centerline, or how many training challenges led up to that blue ribbon, how the stars had to align to get that Olympian on that podium or how long that little girl saved up her pennies to make a childhood dream come true… it’s astonishing. 


When Beau was officially retired early this summer, I asked my friend to take his photo for me. I wanted to remember him like he was in that moment, still strong and dappled with a show horse shine. I was also searching for small spots of happiness in the middle of the devastation I felt at having to retire him, and it was nice to have a fun day to look forward to amidst the endless sea of stall rest boredom for him and for me.


Just like anything with horses, nothing goes according to plan. The day arrived and so did severe thunderstorms. We picked a rain date and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day to hang out outside with my friend and my horse. Things slowly started to go awry, starting with a last minute patient forcing me to be at work earlier than I planned then some last minute massages scheduled that afternoon, forcing my hair up into a hat instead of staying around my shoulders in a well behaved mess.

If only that’s where the snafus ended… But with horses, the real catastrophes don’t begin until you get to the barn. I said hello to my handsome friend and took him out of his stall to be groomed and doused in fly spray before going outside. I should have noticed the “crazy eyes” right away but I was distracted trying to get us both cleaned up in time. With one eye on the clock, I took him outside for a quick grass snack, as was our daily routine, and that’s when the day really unraveled. 

Our first stop was the patch of the dirt he liked to lick since he was selenium-deficient without access to pasture. The second stop was his favorite spot to snack, the side of a rain ditch where the mower can’t reach and the grass grows extra tall and lush. Approximately two seconds after plunging his head into the daisies he was either A) stung by a bee or B) possessed by demons. In less than a heartbeat, he was airborne, transformed into the equine kite I’d become so well-acquainted with during his time on stall rest. But this time, instead of coming back to Earth, he fired out behind him with both hindlegs, catching me in the wrist and the arm as I pulled the lead rope back, trying to steady him. As luck would have it, he kicked me in the hand holding his lead rope, thereby freeing himself to continue his rampage without me. This horse, who is supposed to ONLY WALK, took off galloping TOWARDS THE ROAD. All my adrenaline and all my half marathon training could not get me to the driveway fast enough. I watched with horror as a car approached but luckily stopped. He stopped too, starting at it, leadrope dangling from his face. I continued running towards him as the passengers began getting out of the car with the intention of grabbing him for me. He thought about that for a half a second, then wheeled, galloping back down towards me before realizing his bad leg kind of hurt then he calmly stopped himself, waiting for me to rescue him.

So, in a nutshell, that was the day these photos were taken. One/both of us almost died, then I gently picked bits of gravel and dirt out of my bleeding arm before putting on a dress and little ankle boots. I unfurled my crumpled hair from under my baseball hat and forced myself into a state of composure before Anita arrived. But you would never know this if I didn’t tell you. In these photos are just smiles and silliness, like it usually is when Beau and I are side by side. 

Like every photo of a horse and human, the moment captured is so much more than that moment. When I look at them, I see more than that moment, that day. I see each and every day that lead us to that moment. I see the years of hard work and training, I see the trust that was cultivated through the time we spent together, and I see the bond that was tested through these last nine months–the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through together–his harrowing journey of trying to survive stall rest.  

His personality, my unwavering admiration of this goofball, the beauty of spending an evening outdoors…. it’s all captured here so beautifully. Even when things go awry, as they somehow always do, being beside my horse is unfailingly wonderful. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again–Beau is my wise (albeit kind of weird) teacher, keeping me grounded in the beauty of the present moment and showing me how to roll with the punches (and/or kicks).

Happy Birthweek, Optimum Equine!
By admin

Happy Birthweek, Optimum Equine!

Another year is in the books! This week is Optimum Equine’s #birthweek and I’m celebrating it the best way I know how… driving from farm to farm, massaging horses, enjoying the summer weather, prepping for horse show craziness, and dreaming of what will come next. 

Reflecting over the last 12 months, I am struck with gratitude over the ways that this has grown. I am humbled that my bodywork practice has become a regular part of so many sporthorses’ maintenance routines, and I’m proud and elated when owners share stories of their horses’ continued health, happiness, and show ring success. I have been fortunate to meet so many amazing animals thanks to taking this path and it fulfills a lifelong dream of mine, to work with horses someway somehow. There are cold days and blistering hot days,  there are long days and days so hectic that my calendar looks like rainbow vomit–there are simply too many pieces in the puzzle of each day. But every day is completely 100% worth it. If you would have told me ten years ago that my dream job would have hours like this, that finishing up at 10 pm on Friday night is pretty normal, I wouldn’t have believed you. But each late night and early morning when I’m doing what I love, the hours melt away.

So many of the good things don’t come as a surprise at all. I love when a horse gives a big eye-rolling yawn releasing tension, or gently turns and tries to groom me in return. I love the beautiful country drives and the peace and serenity of working in a barn. I love using the strength of my hands and my knowledge of anatomy, biomechanics, and dressage training to help these horses feel their best. But there is one big thing that I didn’t count on at all. It’s all of you. I never thought about how fulfilling it was going to be to connect with like-minded horse people, how inspiring to hear all of your stories, how cathartic to commiserate together about the struggles. In everyday life, I am surrounded by “normal” people, and it can feel so isolating to be among people who you can’t share the most important part of yourself with. But with my fellow crazy horse people, I can truly be me. 

Being able to share this part of my life with so many people is something that I am endlessly grateful for. This past year has been a difficult one for me personally, with the retirement of my longtime partner, but day after day I was so uplifted by the concern and empathy that all of you showed during my toughest days. I marvel at the number of people this practice has allowed me to meet and how important those connections have become to me. Friendships blossomed and were rekindled out of simple exchanges about scheduling. I have learned so much from my fellow horsewomen, whether it was new knowledge about an unfamiliar discipline, horse care advice, or tips on the best horse show venues, vets, or breeches–I have appreciated every bit of it.   

I started Optimum Equine because I believed I was meant to work with horses, but the last year especially has taught me that I am also meant to work with horse people. This blog is a simple thank you to every person behind the camera in these photos–a thank you to each of you who have trusted me with your horse over the years. It is a pleasure to call you my friends and clients–I look forward to many more years ahead! 

Life Lessons from Professor Charlie Brown
By admin

Life Lessons from Professor Charlie Brown

The first lesson he taught me was simple:

Take the leap if you really want something.

I wasn’t in the market for a horse when I met him. I was fresh out of college, just happy to spend my few spare dollars on riding lessons and all of my spare time at the barn. Being the overgrown barn rat that I was, I spent an awful lot of time with Beau in addition to the horse I was leasing. A year later, when his owners put him up for sale, the thought of losing him broke my heart in two. Without realizing it, I had fallen head over heels in love with this horse. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him so I did the thing that no half-broke 23-year-old should do. I bought my first horse. Was it the smart thing to do? Nope. Did it turn out to be the best decision I’ve ever made? Probably.

While I busied myself learning the riding techniques I had not yet mastered, like how to find the distance to a jump or what the outside rein is supposed to do, Beau was patiently and obediently trotting around, setting the stage for the next lesson:

This is supposed to be fun.

We spent our first show season at the local schooling shows, holding our own and having pretty decent rides. By our second year together, I was feeling more serious about going to recognized dressage shows, so we entered an early spring show at Lake Erie College. Entering the warm up ring, I found myself blown away by the quality of the horses and immediately realized this was out of our league. I erased any visions of winning, put my metaphorical blinders on, and told myself to just get in that big beautiful indoor and go have fun with my horse. With a relaxed, obedient test and a smile on my face, he topped the class.

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, and riding is not a sport for those with any kind of ego. From day one onward, Beau consistently and eagerly pointed out lesson number 3:

Know that things will go wrong.

The same year that he brilliantly won at the Prix de Ville, we were eliminated at a schooling show because he saw a gaited horse and it blew his mind. Unable to fathom how/why a Paso Fino moves like that, Beau went into “giraffe mode” with his nose in the air, and whinnied roughly two million times before deciding not to turn at K and plowing down the dressage arena instead. Know that you will be bucked off at a clinic with a prominent clinician and land in the auditors’ laps. Know that you will be launched solo over jumps and at a show he will step on and break your reins so you can’t get back on. Know that he will get turned out with a new horse the week of a show and get kicked in the stifle. Know that as you savor the bliss of a beautiful horse show morning at your first Regional Championships, the cry you hear of “LOOSE HORSE!” will be about your horse…

We all know that riding teaches you to be tough, to be determined, to not give up. This is not a sport for the faint of heart. But it wasn’t until I had a horse of my very own, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, that I really had to learn the next lesson:

Be flexible.

I bought Beau as a hunter who could maybe do an equitation class here and there. We had some success, but we also had some pretty major catastrophes. To stay the course with blind and dogged determination would not have been much fun for either of us. He loved jumping at home for fun, with no flower boxes and no pressure. At the horse shows, he could not handle my nerves or the scary jumps. Yet at dressage shows, he (usually) shined. My horse was trying to tell me something and I had to listen. The path I envisioned for us was not the path he was meant to take. So we doubled down on dressage training and kept jumping oxers of plain brown rails just for fun.

Any athlete struggles with self-doubt. Sometimes teammates struggle to trust one another. When your teammate can’t speak the same language as you and is scared of miniature horses pulling carts, a lot things that move, wind, noise, and some things that don’t move, that trust can be even more elusive. At a particularly spooky venue in Loch Moy Farms in Maryland, Beau taught me another lesson:

Believe in yourself.

As we started moving up the levels in dressage and going to bigger shows, I became more acutely aware of being the hunter rider on a draft horse. My lace-up Ariat field boots were a dead giveaway and Beau, well, if I had a dollar for every time a judge wrote “needs more suspension” I could probably have a horse with more suspension… Finding myself in the heart of horse country in huge class with pros and amateurs alike, the self-doubt took over. I was nervous and Beau channeled his inner Thoroughbred to start seeing dead people around every turn. We unraveled in the show ring and finished with a record worst score. I didn’t sleep a wink that night, just staring at ceiling of the horse trailer I was hoping no one would notice me sleeping in. I rode that test over and over again in my mind, going over every mistake and wondering how I was going to fix it the next day. At 4 am I gave up trying to sleep and went to the barn. I watched him eat grass and gave us a pep talk. We could do better. I would ride better, he would perform better. It didn’t matter how amazingly good everyone around us happened to be, we just had to beat us. I told him I would be the best damn hunter rider on the best damn draft horse at that show. I told him I believed in us and there were no freaking dead people lurking at A. I channeled all of my frustration into motivation and rode the most accurate test of my life. I came out of the ring beaming. Redemption. We walked back to the barns with our heads held high, mission accomplished. It was even sweeter that my underdog with a heart of gold won that class with the highest score we’d ever get, a 75.6%.

More recently, the lessons my wise professor is teaching me are more universal. If you asked me about unconditional love before his injury, I would have nodded and said yes, yes absolutely I understand that. I love my family, human and animal, unconditionally with all of my heart. But after he was hurt, and all of my riding and competition goals were erased, my dreams and plans were halted, and I drove to the barn day after day after day without a second thought… then I really started to understand what it meant. I knew from day one of this journey that life as I knew it was over. I mourned the loss of my riding career and it crushed me. This horse has given me everything I had ever dreamed of. He gave me successes and challenges. He gave me joy and purpose. He carried my dreams on his back for nearly ten years. I could barely envision a life that didn’t involve riding and training this horse. Every day after he was hurt, I was completely dedicated to his rehabilitation and care, knowing that it was only for him. My brief stint as his rider was over, I only wanted him to be happy and healthy again. And for 175 days, no amount of being cold, exhausted, hungry or burned out deterred me from being devoted to him and his wellness. And while I was telling myself, I was doing it selflessly, doing it only for him, here he was–teaching me about love.

He has been trying to teach me this one for a long time, but I am a slow learner… I find peace in spending time with animals because they know nothing outside of the present moment. The past is in the past, the future is nothing to worry about now. I hope that the recent challenges will finally teach me this important lesson:

To live in the moment.

A few weeks ago, Beau suffered a reinjury and the outcome of his vet visit was exactly what I had feared–the ligament which appeared to be healing so well was really just false hope. The ultrasounds which had looked promising, were misleading. The tissue that had regrown was not strong. His recent soundness at the trot was a byproduct of his rehab being done so carefully and so methodically, with perfect shoes and perfect footing, nothing to cause the weakness to rear its ugly head. I cried for weeks, grieving the loss of the hope I started to feel, the devotion of the last six months which had yielded no progress, and I worried of what the future held. The day after we returned from the vet was a clear, sunny day. I took Beau out for grass and watched him graze for hours with tears streaming down my cheeks. He happily plunged his face into a field full of daises and looked up at me with calm brown eyes, as if to say, “isn’t this just the most perfect day?”

My wise, beautiful horse… although our riding career has ended and he will not be the one to teach me how to be a better rider still, he will keep teaching me how to be a better human. With each passing day, I’m starting to see what the next lesson is:

Accept the things you cannot control.

I gave him my everything, and still it was not enough. This is by far the hardest lesson to learn. Sometimes it won’t matter how hard you work, how much you sacrifice, or how bad you want something. These creatures are as fragile as they are powerful. They will bring us both the highest highs and the lowest lows. Life with them brings us the greatest fulfillment and the worst broken hearts. We simply cannot have one without the other and looking back, I still wouldn’t trade it for the world.

My teammate is retired now, but he remains my greatest teacher and my best friend.
Thank you for everything Charlie Brown. 
❤❤❤❤