We make our way around the ring – our transition from a trot into a cantor is pure ease. In perfect rhythm, we are one. I was frightened of making a mistake, but we are doing it right.

Kay Jay, my mount, a pure bred Morgan is much older than I and certainly more experienced. I’m thirteen and have only been riding six months. We are still getting to know each other. What I had learned in our short acquaintance, was that before Kay Jay come to our stable she had been treated badly. There were white scars behind each of her ears, which had left her with a fear of anything coming up from behind her. We’d worked together everyday and had become friends. I did my best to not add to her fear. I’d learned to sit tight and be still when she flew in all directions trying to escape sudden noises.

It was time. All the riders lined up and we waited to hear the results of the Equitation class, where the rider alone is judged. I heard my name – I had won.

And then it happened. A marching band started up – we couldn’t see them, they were somewhere behind us. It caught us off guard; up she went on her hind legs, I wasn’t prepared. It would have been for me to lean into her, to balance her, but I didn’t. I pulled back and we went flying into and through a fence.

Kay Jay scrambled to her feet running, fleeing to somewhere as I was just attempting to find my way out of the mass of broken fence. I had been disqualified as I had left my mount. All there was left to receive was humiliation and shame. I’d let them down.

Two years later and hours of practicing Dressage movements, how to maneuver up and over stadium jumps and the strategy of a cross country course, I was even better; I was sure they had noticed. Now I rode Cowboy – a mix of Quarter Horse and Thoroughbred. Every day we went through our paces. He was so strong and solid and I could trust in his confidence. I believed we were ready; and we were. We had qualified. We would be one of three to go off and represent our area in a three day rally. I was so excited. All our hard work had reaped the reward of having a place on the team. But I didn’t get to go – Cowboy went without me. My parents had promised another girl who hadn’t qualified the previous year and although she still hadn’t made it, and had no mount, she would go in my place and with my horse.

This summer while watching the Olympics, the program titled, “The Difference Maker’s” hosted by Rick Hansen, caught my attention. The stories featured athletes who had someone special in their life that inspired and motivated them to fulfill their dream. The advice that repeated itself whether it came from a grandfather, a coach, or a friend was to enjoy the process, because what they were about to experience may be for them a once in a lifetime event.

They were to make the most of it, enjoy it all, because at the end of the day if there wasn’t a medal, there would remain the adventure that they had had the courage to embark on and the pride of their achievement would remain with them always.

My brief experience as an equestrian had never been sincere. My intention behind my hard work, drive and discipline was not for the love of riding. It was solely to win approval and recognition. Without a win, I received nothing. Eventually I stopped competing and then I stopped riding. I walked away from the stable, the exercise paddock, the stadium jumping. I said goodbye to the horses I had built a relationship with. I left it all. But the impact of not succeeding to the level of another’s expectation remained with me, creating limitation, always missing the mark, not giving my all.

The process that takes you from the beginning and through a choice is meant to be more than the winning of a prize. Rushing to just get it done can invite obstacles and delays. It can be Life’s way of asking you to breathe, to take your time, reminding you not to race but to embrace, to taste and digest – to value the learning, the sharing, the getting to know yourself, the meeting of people. The process asks you to ask yourself, “Why.” “Why are you doing this, what is your intention?” Is it for you, is it an event you’ve wanted to experience, is it to satisfy a curiosity? Or is to show them, to win them over, to impress, to be loved?

I now can walk back into the memory – into the stable and with fresh eyes I see in spite of the lost trophies, how much I won. I came to know the importance of practice, of learning and improving. That there would be days where everything feels perfect and days where you need to let go when nothing is working and just have fun. To develop trust with another, whether beast or human takes time and the willingness to work together in harmony rather than with arrogance believing one is more important than the other.

The process, being conscious of every moment gave me strengths, experience and knowledge that I can tap into over and over. I lost nothing.

Thank you to two amazing creatures Kay Jay and Cowboy, part of my process – good companions.