About

My Story

My equestrian story began in childhood on the back of a naughty Shetland pony named Angel, a true contradiction in terms. My well-meaning but clueless parents signed me up to ride this hairy 10-hand beast for years in western equitation, western pleasure classes, and gymkhana classes. These experiences were preposterous—I had to navigate the arena carefully to avoid being run over by majestic Quarter Horses dripping in silver.

Despite being wildly unsuccessful in competitions, I persevered, learning that showing up and a no-quit attitude matter. After a hiatus due to work, family, and financial constraints, I returned to riding as an adult. I leased the oldest buckskin Quarter Horse on the planet, Tequila, who reignited my love for horses. Later, I bought George, a small, copper, scraggily-tailed off-the-track Thoroughbred (OTTB), pulling him from a polo field to be my next mount. It was then that I became captivated by the grace of dressage riders. Tolstoi described the love of art as an ‘infection,’ and man, I had it bad.

I eagerly hopped on George with grand dreams of wowing judges and basking in applause. Reality quickly shattered my fantasy as I unwittingly enrolled in the ‘school of cluelessness.’ The learning curve was steep, and I struggled with cryptic judges’ comments, self-doubt, and unrealistic expectations. I contemplated getting a new horse, a different trainer, or an ‘on the bit’ bit, but these foolish notions only made progress more elusive.

After a spectacularly pitiful dressage show performance, I had an epiphany: what I was doing wasn’t working and I wasn’t having fun. Trying to absorb everything about dressage at once was like drinking from a firehose. I decided to start thinking strategically and advocate for myself. By incorporating what I had learned in my professional career and harnessing the power of planning, I became the active driver of my progress.