This essay has been difficult to compose and I am struggling to find the right words. I apologise if my words bother you. It is not my intention.
When I was much younger I was very serious about competing in dressage and jumping. It was the reason I rode horses. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy a trail ride or a trot around the paddock. I did. But the prospect of competing, showing off my skills, and coming home covered in glory was so exciting. I’m not sure I would have persevered with riding in later years if I had not been fired up to compete when I was younger. In those days, if I had to clean paddocks so I could compete next week, that was okay. If I had to polish saddles and bridles, sweep tack rooms, replace stable bedding, drag heavy water buckets, or whatever chore needed doing just so that I could attend the next competition, so be it.
Nowadays, and for a long time, the thought of competing with my horse is about as exciting as a dental visit (apologise to dentists reading this). The transformation from loving to compete to having zero interest in competition came about in my late teens or maybe very early twenties.
I remember asking myself one day why did I compete. Why do it? Is it for the glory? Is it to test my abilities against others? Is it to help me set goals in our training? Do I do it to show off my skills? Or is it to be part of a fraternity of like-minded competitors?
Shortly after I began having these questions I realised something very important that shaped the future of my horsemanship. It occurred to me that if I went to a competition and came home with no ribbons or prizes it was a bad day. If a judge wrote a critical report of my test, even if it was helpful criticism, I became sullen and mad at myself. It was a shock to realize the joy I got from competing and being with my horse was dependent on how successful a day we had. It was a cathartic moment. A horrible cathartic moment. I felt ashamed of myself.
I realized my ego was too fragile to be a good competitor. I had made competing all about me and how I felt about myself and my horsemanship. I could have used competitions to set goals and give me a pathway to being a better horse person, but I didn’t. I could have used competitions to gauge the progress I was making in my training, but I didn’t. I could have used competitions to make good friends with whom I could enjoy riding, but I didn’t.
So I stopped competing. I didn’t want to compete again until I knew that there was fun in just spending a day with my horse even if we came last in every event. I believe I’ve reached that point, but now competition has no interest for me. I don’t need it to have fun with my horses. Even cleaning a paddock or applying sun cream to a pink nose or trimming feet is fun because they are excuses to hang out with my horses.
I believe we should all ask ourselves the reason we compete. Then ask again in a year and again in 5 years. Do the reasons change?
In my view, we should compete only when we feel we have had a good day because we spent it with our horse, even if we came last. I suspect competition has ruined more horses and more human/horse relationships than most of us want to admit.
