Equestrian Riding Quotes

If I've learned anything over the years, it's that horses do listen to you. They may not have a clue what you're saying, but they know the tone in which you say it. I'll sing to horses so hooked on their own nerves they're ready to climb into the sky, and sometimes it's one of the only things that keep them on the ground.

And I learned this long ago, that sweet freedom can be found in the middle of a meadow, upon the back of a faithful mare. Careless and wild we both shall be, on our ride across familiar fields, with steps that blend into the earth below.

Riding is the step-by-step seduction of the horse.

Marta Jolicoeur: We all learned how to ride from George and had wonderful riding careers but more than that, George taught us how to be successful in life...George had us all sized up. He used to tell me that I'm a worrier and he was right! I used to get rally nervous in the ring when I was about fifteen, and he made me go around the ring, reciting out loud, 'I know I'm going to see a distance. It might be a little short or a little long, but I know I'm going to see something.' I would have to say it loud over and over again on course...

Katie Prudent: One of the greatest things about those times was that everything he [George Morris] taught us in the equitation had form with meaningful function. Your straight back was for strength, and your heels were your anchor. Everything he taught us made so much sense and that knowledge translated from equitation to the jumpers.

Opening the lid, I looked down at the gleaming belt buckle and rubbed my thumb over the engraved word 'Champion'. Realizing that right then I actually felt like one, I dropped my knee in the dirt, pulled my cowboy hat from my head, put it to my chest, raised a hand to my forehead and thanked the heavens for a job well done, a clean, safe ride and for the woman waiting for me in the stands.

Once, while at my uncle’s farm my father took me for a ride on my uncle’s buckboard. Not knowing any better, my father took the bridle off of the horse to give him a break. It seemed reasonable to me, but any farmer will tell you that’s not what he should have done. Thinking that he was free and then realizing that he wasn’t, the horse bolted, dragging the wagon down a path and then through a stone quarry where the buckboard was reduced to kindling wood. After my uncle found out what had happened, things were not quite the same for some time to come. Fortunately, the horse survived with only a few scratches but the buckboard was beyond repair and poor Pop never lived down this occurrence. I guess that he wasn’t much of an equestrian either.

Training horses, heck riding horses, isn't easy. Failing is part of the process. It's how you brush yourself off and get back in the saddle that counts the most. There's beauty in the breakdown. Everything is about balance.

Everything that mattered in Hank Reed’s life, outside of his family, revolved around horses. Starting with his days as a cadet, he had lived in a world that could measure everything—honor, kindliness, discipline, sporting spirit, diligence, and, most of all, courage—in equestrian terms. His brain was crammed with the nomenclature of horses: cantle, withers, curb chain, bran mash, fetlock, stock tie, near side, picket line. He knew the aids for a flying lead change, the correct attire for a foxhunt, the thunder of charging by platoon, and the serenity of riding alone on a quiet path, with only his mount’s breaths and cadenced footsteps for company. The rhythm of a horse’s strides was like music to him—the walk a ballad in four/four time, the trot a rousing two-beat march, the canter a smooth three-beat waltz. Reed knew the scent of fresh straw in the stable, the tickle of a horse’s whiskers as it nuzzled up a carrot. He knew that endless moment when a fall was inevitable and then the sudden breathless smack of landing hard on packed dirt. He knew what the end of a day on horseback felt like, salty with sweat, dirt under his fingernails, and a mind whitewashed from all worry. More than anything, Hank Reed understood what was unspoken among all of these horse soldiers. Sunburned, brusque, tough, accustomed to giving and taking orders, they knew that if you live, eat, sleep, and breathe horses for long enough, they become part of you, and your soul is forever altered.

Perfectionism stifles confidence. Perfectionsists subconsciously undermine their own confidence. It's just simply difficult to build confidence when there is consistent focus on making mistakes-or not making them-and a hyperfocus on the outcome of performance.

Just remember that perfectionism with a healthy dose of judgement will erase your confidence and ensure that you ride small. Excellence with a healthy dose of acceptance will encourage confidence and gove you the best chance of Riding Big.

...having the ability to flex your emotional muscles can often be the difference in both acheivement and enjoyment in equestrian sport. Building your emotional muscles will help you leverage all of your talent, training, and effort.

The ultimate goal of Dressage is to create a picture of horse and rider moving as one.

Eventing:

Horse Trainer: Shaping Equine Athletes

Riding Instructor: Guiding Aspiring Equestrians

Equine Artist: Capturing Equine Beauty

Equine Event Planner: Creating Unforgettable Experiences

Equine Journalism: Storytelling in the Horse World

Withhold judgment amid the less-than-perfect rides and remember the serenity of horses munching hay. Do not compare yourself to others, for there will always be those who do a perfect canter pirouette and those who fall. Be content with the level where you are and the horse you are riding, for it is all as it should be; you will ascend precisely at the right moment. Do not distress when you experience setbacks, for they often unlock doors to greater ability and understanding. Be gentle with yourself, do not underestimate your horse, and above all, ride with joy. – Lynn Wolf

One metaphor we can use to understand these two ideas is riding a horse. Many people believe racism is like a skilled equestrian’s choosing, through decisions and commands, to go faster or slower, to jump a fence or avoid an obstacle, to follow a certain route or not. However, thinking structurally, we can understand that racism is more like a merry-go-round. You may be going up, down, and around, and you might feel as if you’re riding

Robbie said he never saw a horse take so easily to a rider, but Annis wasn't surprised. Bits always understood what she wanted, from a slow walk to a trot, from a canter to a gallop. He was as eager as she for their more daring rides, the ones they made when no one could see them. He loved to run, and they both loved jumping. He sailed effortlessly over fallen trees, mane and tail rippling. He popped over rows of shrubs as easily as a leaping deer, making Annis feel as if she could fly.

Someday you will find yourself laughing at a joke when you thought you would never be happy again. You will find yourself smiling and admiring the beauty of the mountains, when the world once felt so cruel and unforgiving. And maybe when trotting on the back of a horse, you will hear your heart beating, I'm still here. I'm still here.