High Achieving Horseback Riders

I’ve been thinking a lot about rest these days, about how much we push and carry on and then wonder why we are exhausted. About over-scheduling, yet still feeling like we’re not enough. Worrying about the state of the world, the state of our communities, the state of our planet.

It’s so much. I’ve been enjoying a quiet summer in Nova Scotia, physically removed from that’s happening in the US, but still seeing headlines in my email every day. I’ve rested my body, and then moved it...a lot. I haven’t been lifting, which is usually a 3x/week sanctified practice, but I haven’t felt called back to it yet.

I’m coming out of a hard burn-out, if I’m being totally honest, and it’s made me realize how much rest we could all really use. Like you, I identify as a high achieving horseback rider - these days, the high achieving is a bit more separate from the horseback riding than it used to be, but both are parts of my identity.

So when it comes to rest, I've not been great at it. But now, if I could design a perfect world, every person would get two weeks every quarter, at least. One to gradually wind down your system, and one to really rest. Maybe throw an extra week in to prepare for reentry. 

Wouldn’t that be great? Ideal, really. I look back at who I was in Q1 and Q2 - I don’t recognize her anymore. I see snippets here and there - my stamina is back, but I also rest more. My interest in working is at 30%, maybe 40%, whereas most of the year it was a hard 100% - work as much as I can, and then work some more.

Feeling resting at Crystal Crescent Beach

I can’t physically do that anymore. It transformed me into someone I didn’t know, and I did not like. I felt like the villain in my own story - exhausted, withdrawn, angry, resentful, frustrated, lonely, sad. I cried a lot. My anxiety was through the roof - there were so many mornings I sobbed while walking the dog. I thought that only happened in movies, then suddenly it was my life.

When High Achieving Horseback Riders Need a Break

I’ve always been proud of my resilience - there’s never a question for me if I can or will do something. I just do it. I get things done. But my resilience finally ran out this year, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know if you’ve ever had your well run dry, but it is a bewildering, humbling experience.

There isn’t a happy ending to this story yet - I’m better. I’m enjoying sea air, tinged with pine, and long walks on vast beaches. I’m reading a ton of books. I’m drinking iced vanilla lattes like it’s my job, and eating my weight in delicious scones. I’m (clearly) writing a lot, exorcising the pent up poison I’ve inflicted on myself.

It’s a slow process, this healing business. I have four weeks until I go home, and my main concern is: “Will I remember how good this balance thing feels, or will I fall right back into my old habits? Will I push myself to the breaking point again? What does balance look like when I’m in my regular places?”

When I coach a new horseback riding client, I hear how frustrated they are when they do all this work, whether it’s yoga or strength training or pilates, and yet they don’t feel it translates into the saddle. They mount up, and it’s like they haven’t learned or changed anything. It’s right back into old habits, old ways of sitting in the saddle, of twisting slightly right or left, of weighting one stirrup more than the other, of forgetting to breathe, of having one leg swing and the other grip.

Changing habits and patterns is hard. It takes work, awareness, and consistency.

Healing is hard - it’s exhausting.

We don’t have the bandwidth to add all these exercises and routines and equipment into our days. We’re already maxed out.

It can be incredibly aggravating for high-achieving people, like most of my riders, to not see results when they put in the work.

I have to remind them (and myself) that healing and making changes is not linear. It’s not immediate. Yes, there is a Before & After, but mostly, we’re in the middle, in the thick of it, doing the work.

My system is simple - change how you breathe, bring awareness of your posture to your daily routines, practice movement pattern reprogramming - but it still takes consistency. It’s as bare-bones a process as you could ask for, but it’s still hard for folks to remember, to do the work, to make time for themselves.

As a coach, I work to support them as best I can. I can send the check-in emails, message them on Voxer, create a group program for support. But I can’t do the work for them, just like my therapist can’t do the work for me. It’s hard for the exhausted system to reprogram, especially when you add pain to the mix. Pain is not just a physical problem - it’s mental, social, financial, emotional. It’s a deeply invasive cycle, and it creates fear as much as it creates despair.

The best I can do, in my role as coach, is to create a safe space for my clients to let down the walls, to take 60 minutes with me and just breathe. Breathe, and move gently, and be seen and heard and validated. To have simple techniques that don’t demand a lot of bandwidth but provide nearly guaranteed return on investment. To be unconditionally supported in a way we often can’t do for ourselves, and that even our friends and family can’t provide.

Holding space for each other is a gift in these exhausting days - finding community and solidarity, one more shoulder to help carry your burdens. It’s easier to carry the hard and heavy things with someone else there. I got into this profession, this life of helping others heal old injuries, to be the extra shoulder with nothing asked in return (other than being paid). I’m looking forward to coming back from my resting time with stronger shoulders to stand beside my riders, as well as taking better care of myself.

In the spirit of holding space, I spent the last week creating a new resource for folks who are curious about my work, or who don't know what exactly it is I do, or if it applies to them. It's a two-part offering: Part 1 is the EquiForm Supported Rider Assessment, a series of questions about your internal support, alignment, stability, and integrating all of that into the saddle. Part 2 is the EquiForm Supported Rider Guide, which helps you work through the four steps in my method. If you've read this far, I'd love to share it with you as a thanks. You can find it here. I hope it helps.