Rediscovering our Why to Find our Way—It’s All About Winning. Or Is It?

Have we lost our way?

I have been in equestrian sport—as a rider, owner and performance psychologist—for many years. I have seen our culture change in really positive ways—and also not so positive—at least from my vantage point. Some of the changes are not unique to our sport but rather an expression of current societal values and perspectives. But I wonder as I work with clients: have we lost our way in this sport? Or, more to the point: have we lost our why?

Consider this very common example from my practice: a rider tells me that she becomes ‘paralyzed’ in the show ring. Fearful that she will not be perfect, she focuses on ‘trying not to make a mistake.’ She worries about disappointing her trainer and ‘embarrassing herself’ in front of her peers. Her show performances are tight, constricted—far from her best. More importantly, she isn’t enjoying herself or her horses. Showing—and sometimes even riding—has become a source of stress rather than pleasure.

The scenario above is one I hear repeatedly in my work with riders of all ages and levels. In our sport currently, there is a broad expectation of perfection and an overemphasis of results over process. I also find that athletes are focused more on winning instead of learning and developing. Sadly, I find that some riders have even lost the connection with the real reason most of us participate in equestrian sports—for the love of the horses. Many riders have become disconnected from the incomparable feeling of being in a relationship with a horse, especially with one with whom we partner to achieve our athletic goals.

Why is this? In part, I think much of society is fascinated by perfection. Thanks to social media, we are bombarded with images of ideal bodies, faces, performances—you name it. What we see online is either the end result of years of work and training or not real at all. Nonetheless, we are lured into believing that these images are real, and we become disconnected from the true reality—and the enjoyment—of the process and the journey.

Some riders I work with are hyper-focused on social media and videos that are accessible online. They are keenly aware of scores, results, performances, points and even the whereabouts of their competitors. My first job is to peel them off of this focus and direct them to lean into their own riding. Recently I instructed a very skilled rider to stop thinking about winning and scores. She asked, “then what do I focus on?" “Riding,” I said. “I want you to focus on your riding and connecting with your horse.”

In my view, this rider has lost her why. She has forgotten that it’s about her journey and relationship with her horses, not about some illusory perfect round. But again, from my point of view, we’re in this sport precisely because we love the horses, and we want to become the best rider and horse people we can be. But, alas, I am ‘old school.’ I started out, many decades ago, in the backyard. I had a nearly feral pony that came with the property that my parents bought when I was 10. I’m not sure how I managed to survive dealing with her, much less riding her, but I did because I loved that mare. Sometime later my parents were convinced to buy a retired cutting horse to be my first ‘real’ horse.

My parents were very naive, thinking that once they bought ‘Joe’ it would be the end of it. Of course, they were wrong. That was just the beginning.

As the years went on, I pulled them deeper and deeper into the equestrian world. I begged for more lessons, then I asked for training at a ‘real’ barn and then shows and of course better horses. My parents complied because could see how much being with the horses was doing for me—how good it was for my overall happiness and well being. But none of it was easy, and much of it was not pretty. I realize now that there was no need to teach grit or resilience, because those qualities were was just part of the package. I was learning a lot—not just about riding but also about growing up and being a person.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t mean to glorify the old days. In many ways things are much better now. Horse care, safety of rider and horse, technical advancements, teaching methods—we’ve come along way, and I’m very happy to be a beneficiary of these changes. But there is something different in our culture, something that I find unsettling and upsetting—both in my roles as a performance psychologist and as a rider myself.

One of the big shifts I see is in perspective—and with that, expectations of both ourselves and our horses. Let’s face it: our sport is hard. To be good is very hard. It takes years and years of practice with years and years of making mistakes and trying to correct them. To become a really competent, resilient rider requires training with effective coaches and dedication to the practice. Contrary to what we see in social media, the vast majority of our rides are not glamorous. Most rides are working through the details and refining the basics. Most of our rides are hard work. If mastering a skill takes 10,000 hours, then mastering riding must take 100,000.

I heard Mclain Ward say once that he is ‘a student of the sport.’ As I say in my seminars, if Mclain is a student of our sport, then we all better fall in line behind him.

—Dr. Darby Bonomi

Being good at something as complex as equestrian sport does not come easily orquickly. In addition, I believe that to be a truly great rider, one also needs to be a great horseman. The more one understands about the development, care and maintenance of our horses, the more connected we are to these partners with whom we perform. Becoming a great horseman takes work, time, study and experience.

But all that is not to say that all that hard work isn’t fun! In fact, I wholly ascribe to the belief that those who are exceptional, those who are truly great at anything, love the process of getting better. They relish—or learn to relish—the hard work and even the inevitable failures from which we need to learn and grow. I am not so naive to think that they love every second of a grueling training session or a tough day, but their passion for all aspects of the sport, and for their own advancement carries them through the tough times. The best find joy where others find a grind.

The unsettling trend I see in our sport, and in other areas of life, is an emphasis on the end result, and especially on the wins. We are a culture which values the destination over the process. Along with that trend, I see a decline in joy in the process, a disconnection from the reality of the sport and a disturbing under-appreciation of true skill and expertise.

But here is the rub: most of our time is spent in the process! Most of our effort is spent in learning, experimenting, making mistakes and growing. No matter what your discipline or your level of expertise, most of our effort is spent on the basics—on flexibility, strength and balance. It’s working on bending, going forward, coming back, moving laterally. It’s working on communication between horse and rider, building trust and confidence. Most of our time—whether you’re a novice or an international rider— is spent on these details, not on winning big classes.

Let’s say you are aiming to scale a mountain. Of course, the top is your destination or your goal—but most of your time and effort is spent getting there, not arriving. Most of the adventure is spent studying, preparing, training and planning. The process of getting there is hard work; it’s challenging, but it is also fascinating and hopefully pleasurable.

The views are great from various points along the way, and there is a sense of accomplishment in many points. And, hopefully, you acknowledge and enjoy the small steps that form the building blocks of your big goal.

Equestrians: If we are only focused on the win, or the result, we are robbed of the full experience—and the enjoyment—of the adventure.

Riders often start by asking me to help them win—to create perfection. They struggle when even the smallest difficulty arises, and become upset with themselves for ‘failing.’ Stuck in a rabbit hole of self-defeating thoughts, many of these riders are suffering—they have lost their connection to their why and to their enjoyment in the sport. They have diverted from their love of the sport, the pursuit of mastery, and the horses, and find themselves caught in a spiral of disappointment, or worse, self criticism, shame and frustration.

Recently I worked with a junior who, while she is reasonably sophisticated rider, was crumbling in the show ring whenever she thought that anything was slightly wrong. A quiet distance to the first fence created a domino effect of mistakes as she let the whole round fall apart. She told me that her ride had to be perfect or she was 'a failure.’ I told her, as I tell many riders, “perfect is an illusion! I need you to become interested in being effective. In your rides, I need you to be fully present, ride every step and learn something about yourself and your horse.”

As I mentioned above, one of our big challenges today is social media, and perhaps media in general, which teases us with images of perfection rather than reality. We don’t see—and wouldn’t watch—hours and hours of video of me doing a ‘circle of death’ on my horse, trying my hardest to keep my track centered and my pace even, so that my horse will take three equal, balanced strides between the poles. Instead, we are drawn to the showy display of wins and the glamour shots of beautiful riders performing exquisitely in the ring—which is sometimes real, but it’s the view at the mountaintop. Social media has created a manufactured experience that we mistake for ‘reality’—what we see is not real at all, or perhaps only a tiny bit. My flat lessons, working on impulsion, straightness, and track—are the real deal but they make for a boring reel.

It’s about being your best. It’s not about being the best.

—Beezie Madden

Let’s get back to our why, and find our way back to real. Let’s acknowledge how hard it is to be proficient at our sport, and appreciate and enjoy the complexity of the journey and the endurance it takes—at any level. Let’s get back to valuing process and progress over results, and lean in to being excellent students of our sport—no matter what level we currently ride. Let’s aim to be better horsemen, to learn from each other, and from the experts. Let’s make it our goal to grow and help others grow too. Let’s connect over our love for the industry, the pursuit of mastery of our sport and the amazing animals who agree to partner with us.