When I didn't get into my first horse show of the season, I was disappointed.
I had a plan. My first show this year was supposed to be picking up where I left off at one of our regular rated shows. It’s a show I’d done many times before, in a seasonal pattern I was familiar with.
However, because of an entries blunder on my part, I pivoted quickly and found myself entering a smaller local show instead.
It would be fun, I thought: A low-pressure, casual way to kick off the season.
I'll admit it: In my mind, local shows had become the stepping stone to the "real" horse shows. The place you started, not the place you returned to. The rated circuit was the goal, and local shows were simply how you got there.
But the truth is, after three days of showing, plus a warm-up day, I was cooked. I even considered scratching on Sunday because it was too hot and I was tired. Ha!
And looking back, I think that was the whole point. I hadn't outgrown the local show, I'd just forgotten what it still had to offer me.
Because it turns out, it was exactly what I needed.
Not because I wasn't ready to ride.
I needed a local show because I wasn't ready to horse show.
By the end of the weekend, I realized I hadn't underestimated the riding. I felt prepared; I knew what I was working on, what I wanted to improve; and what success looked like for Annie and I.
I had underestimated everything else. The early mornings and the long days. The waiting, then rushing. The constant decision-making and being “on”. Remembering how to pace myself over multiple days. Getting my timing back. Managing my own energy as much as my horse's.
And remembering just how much mental space horse showing occupies before you ever walk through the in-gate.
It wasn't that I'd forgotten any of those things. I'd simply forgotten what they felt like.
There's a difference.
Knowing horse show days are long is one thing. Managing your energy for a class that doesn't go until 3 p.m., is another.
Focusing on progress instead of perfection is the goal. Actually doing that after chipping into the same vertical for the third time, despite all the other things that went really well, is another.
A few years ago, when I was showing consistently, I probably wouldn't have considered starting with a local show. I didn't need to—I was already in the rhythm of horse showing.
But after a break, I realized I'd lost that rhythm more than I thought. This year, I have a different perspective.
The smaller show wasn't a warm-up only for my riding. It was a warm-up for horse showing.
I expected myself to simply pick up where I left off: I’ve done all of this before.
But horse showing isn't something we store away and pull back out exactly as we left it. The rhythm fades. We forget what horse showing asks of us.
It asks for our energy, our focus, discipline, patience, perspective and emotional regulation.
And after some time away, maybe those things deserve a little warm-up, too.
What I realized this year is that adding in a local show wasn't about lowering my ambitions. It was about finding my rhythm again.
Somewhere along the way, I think a lot of us start believing that the bigger the horse show, the more meaningful it is.
My start to this season reminded me that sometimes the most valuable horse show isn't the biggest one. It's the one that gives you exactly what you need.
Maybe that’s what I had forgotten about local shows.
They’re not just how we find our way in. Sometimes, they’re exactly how we find our way back.
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