🐎 When the Ride Goes Sideways: Finding Growth in Frustration

🐎 When the Ride Goes Sideways: Finding Growth in Frustration

Let’s be real.
Some days with our horse just don’t go as planned—and honestly? It can downright suck.

This is one of the hardest parts of horsemanship. It’s also something I walk through often with my students—those moments when your horse’s behavior and your own expectations don’t align. One of two things usually happens:

1. The rider blames themselves entirely.

2. The rider blames the horse entirely.

But what if we looked deeper?

Let’s talk through three common scenarios and what they might actually mean:

1. The expectation is greater than the skillset (yours, the horse’s, or both).

You’ve got a clear picture of what you want. But either you or your horse (or both) haven’t yet built the foundation needed to get there.

2. Horse and rider are growing—just not there yet.

You're both learning. Things are generally moving forward. But progress isn’t linear, and some days feel like a mess.

3. Everything is great… until it's not.

You and your horse usually work beautifully together. But then you hit a wall—in a new place, under pressure, or with added distractions—and nothing goes right.

We’ve all been in one of these spots. The mistake?
Holding on to the expectation rather than the lesson

When someone tells me to “let it go” or “think positive” when I’m mid-frustration, it usually makes me want to scream. Can you relate?

In my 40+ years of doing this, I’ve learned a better way to process those awful horse moments. One that actually helps you grow from them. So let me walk you through it.

🧠 Step One: Go Ahead—Throw the Pity Party

Seriously. Don’t skip this. But let’s make it productive.

Grab a pen and paper. Brain dump everything from the ride that felt terrible:

• What went wrong?

• What were you expecting?

• What felt disappointing or frustrating—about your horse, yourself, or the environment?

• Write it all out. No order. No filter. Just let it pour out.

This is for your eyes only unless you choose to share it.

🔍 Step Two: Get Honest About Repetition

Now go through each frustrating point and ask:

• How many times has this exact issue happened before with this horse?
  (Rate it from 1 to 10—1 being the first time, 10 being “this happens a lot.”)

• How much do I actually know about handling this kind of situation?
  (Again, rate your current skill/understanding from 1 to 10.)

This is where the learning begins.

PSSST....I added a complimentary worksheet for you to download to help you with this process.

➡️👉 🎉 The Productive Pity Party 🎉 worksheet

🐴 Real-World Story: Sarah and Maple

Let me paint the full picture of Sarah and her horse, Maple.

Sarah is a dedicated rider. She boards Maple at a quiet, low-key barn and takes a weekly lesson with a trusted trainer. Her progress has been steady, and she's proud of how far they've come together. Maple has become responsive, soft in the bridle, and willing in their work. Sarah rides four to five days a week, and lately, their sessions have felt easy and connected. At home, everything works—fluid transitions, soft circles, solid stops. They've even nailed their dressage test several times in practice.

So when the opportunity arises to go to their first local show of the season, Sarah feels ready. Nervous, yes—but ready.

Friday afternoon, she gives Maple a full bath. She scrubs her white socks until they gleam, braids her mane just right, and carefully wraps her legs for the night. She lays out her own show clothes and even shines her boots. The trailer is packed. Tack is cleaned. Paperwork is printed. She double-checks everything—three times.

Saturday morning, Sarah arrives early, excited. The sun is shining. She grabs a coffee on the way and hums to herself. But when she leads Maple to the trailer, something shifts.

Maple plants her feet. Ears pricked, eyes wide.

“No big deal,” Sarah says out loud. “We’ve loaded before.”
She grabs a bucket with grain and gently encourages Maple forward. But Maple backs up. And again. Then tosses her head. It’s been 15 minutes. Sarah’s starting to sweat—not from the sun, but from panic. She’s now watching the clock. Her warm-up window is shrinking.

Eventually, with a little pressure and a lot of coaxing, Maple loads. Sarah exhales but can feel her stomach knotting.

🛣️ The Drive

The roads are clear. She makes every green light. A small gift. But she can’t shake the tension. She's already behind schedule, and she's replaying the trailer loading in her mind.

“What was that about? She never does that. Did I miss something?”

🐎 At the Showgrounds

She pulls in. The lot is packed. Horses everywhere—neighing, trailers unloading, people rushing. Maple is wide-eyed as she backs out of the trailer. She calls out—loud, sharp, urgent—and no one answers.

Sarah ties her to the trailer, but Maple can’t stand still. She’s dancing in place, pawing, calling. Her normally quiet horse is now a bundle of nerves, and it's infectious.

Sarah tries to tack up. Maple shifts, steps sideways, and then—crunch—right on Sarah’s boot. The pain shoots through her foot, but she forces a smile to the folks nearby.

Then comes the second hit: Maple brushes against Sarah’s breeches, leaving a giant dirt streak across her white pants.

That smile? Gone.

🥵 Dressing Room Dilemma

Sarah’s supposed to go get dressed in the tack room. But how can she leave Maple like this? Tied to the trailer, unsettled, alone? She hesitates. Waits. Watches. Tries to finish getting Maple ready while half-dressed. She’s sweating again. Her armpits, her neck, even her hands are clammy.

“This is not how it’s supposed to go.”

🔄 The Warm-Up Ring

Maple’s feet hit the warm-up ring and she’s gone. She’s jigging, spinning, calling out. Her head is high, her back is tight, and she's rushing through every movement. Sarah tries to bring her down to a trot. Maple braces. Sarah half-halts. Maple flings her head. They circle, circle, circle.

“She’s going to fall over,” Sarah thinks. “I’m going to fall off.”

Nothing they practiced is working. She’s flushed, embarrassed, and now questioning everything.

🐎 The Show Ring

Sarah somehow gets Maple near the mounting block—though Maple is still sidestepping and spinning. She throws her leg over just in time for her ride time. Still calling out, Maple bolts forward toward the ring.

They get down the center line, but barely. What’s supposed to be a halt turns into a crooked, off-balance stumble. Sarah salutes. Her jaw is clenched so tight she feels her teeth ache.

The test? A blur. Braced turns. Missed transitions. Zero bend. Maple is hollow, unresponsive, and moving a million miles an hour. The judge rings the final bell and Sarah barely remembers riding the last half.

She walks Maple out of the ring.
People clap politely. But Sarah’s eyes are burning.

She untacks quietly, holding it together just enough to get back to the trailer.
Then come the tears—the kind that build in your throat and leak out whether you want them to or not.

Tears of frustration, embarrassment, anger—at Maple, at herself, at the whole situation.
Then the guilt.
“I shouldn’t be mad.”
“Why am I crying?”
“I’m not cut out for this.”
“Everyone saw that disaster.”
“Why did I even come?”

Sound familiar?

Maybe you’ve never shown, but I’d bet anything you’ve had a day like Sarah’s—a day that started with hope and ended with heartbreak. Whether it was a trail ride, a lesson, or simply leading your horse out of the barn, we’ve all had a moment where nothing went right and it felt like we’d lost everything we worked for.

🤔 What Really Happened Here?

Let’s look back at those three earlier scenarios:

• Sarah and Maple weren’t lacking skill in the movements—they could do them at home.

• But they lacked experience under pressure and in unfamiliar environments.

• Maple hadn’t been exposed to trailers, crowds, other horses, or noisy showgrounds.

• Sarah hadn’t practiced riding Maple when Maple was in an insecure or reactive state.

This wasn’t a failure of ability. It was a gap in exposure and lack of preparation for pressure.

🧩 The Missing Pieces

Every part of Sarah’s “bad day” was avoidable—with time, practice, and prep:

• Trailer loading in low-stress situations first

• Working around multiple horses, not just one

• Visiting different farms or busy areas before the show

• Learning how to calmly guide a horse that’s emotionally unregulated

🪄 But Here’s the Catch:

Even with all the prep, some days will still go sideways.

Sometimes the first ride of the season is a mess.
Sometimes a new location or high energy environment throws everything off.
Sometimes your horse just isn’t in the right frame of mind—and neither are you.

And that’s okay.

❤️ My Best Advice After 40+ Years:

1. Do your best with the tools you have today.
   Your “toolbox” grows over time. Use what you’ve got now—and build as you go.

2. If one tool isn’t working, try another.
   Adjust your ask, your approach, your energy. Don’t just repeat the same thing louder.

3. Just because it’s not working yet doesn’t mean it’s not working.
   Growth takes root quietly. Sometimes what you planted today shows up next week.

4. When in doubt, give yourself and your horse compassion.
   You’re both learning. You’re both growing. Give it the time it takes.

🧘‍♀️ Final Thought:

When horses are afraid, they want other horses—not us.
That’s not a personal insult. It’s survival instinct.
It’s our job to help them get grounded again—not through control, but through consistent, calm, clear direction.

When we can view tough rides not as failures, but as lessons revealed, we shift from frustration to curiosity. And in that space? Real partnership grows.

📝 Feeling Stuck After a Tough Ride?

You’re not alone—and you don’t have to “just move on” without processing it.

Download my free worksheet:
🎉 The Productive Pity Party 🎉
It’s a guided journaling tool designed to help you:

• Get your frustrations out (without judgment)

• Understand where the real breakdown happened

• Turn emotional moments into learning opportunities

👉 🎉 The Productive Pity Party 🎉 worksheet

Because sometimes the best way forward… starts with getting it all out first.