Prioritizing the Horse Over the Title
“The industry may still glorify speed and early success, but I know now that longevity, soundness, and a willing partner are the real achievements worth striving for. So, I choose patience. I choose education. I choose listening. And most importantly, I choose my horse — every single time.”
If there was anything I did as a disservice to my horses, it was pushing them too hard to meet a competition deadline. I look back now and ask myself, why? Why did I rush them along for a title that, in the grand scheme of things, nobody really cares about? Why did I feel the need to prove something to others, only to find education gaps and mental stressors in my horses later? The setup for young horses, particularly in futurities and retraining competitions, so often fails them. I see it now in a way I wish I had seen earlier. And, honestly, I’m turned off by all of it.
The pressure of competition, the allure of winning, and the need to be seen as a skilled horsewoman once pushed me to ride with urgency rather than patience. I see so many others following the same path, and it’s heartbreaking because I know where it leads. The reality is, we are often setting up our horses for failure — mentally, emotionally, and even physically. A title doesn’t mean much if my horse is fried, confused, or pushed past his limits.
I’ve come to realize that we desperately need to incorporate horsemanship components into speed events showcasing young horses — events that reward patience, understanding, and long-term soundness, rather than just speed. If futurity competitions were structured in a way that weighted times accordingly — perhaps factoring in smoothness, willingness, and mental composure — we wouldn’t be out here blowing these young horses’ minds just for another buckle to add to our walls or titles to add to our résumés. The idea of winning should never come at the cost of our horse’s well-being.
Photo courtesy of Marcella Gruchalak
It has taken me years to understand that success isn’t defined by wins and titles but by the relationship built with the horse. For so long, I equated my worth as a horsewoman with how well I performed in competition. I thought proving my abilities in the show pen was the ultimate marker of success. But horses don’t care about buckles. They don’t care about prize money, points, or titles. They care about how they’re being treated in the moment. They care about whether they feel safe and understood.
Growing as a horsewoman has meant unlearning the belief that faster is always better. It has meant listening more and forcing less. It has meant realizing that a soft, confident, and willing horse is far more valuable than a burned-out, mentally frazzled one that won a few early futurities but is unrideable by age seven.
In looking back, I’ve asked myself a hard question: Was the training method for my horses just forcing them into a mold? Was I building a partnership, or was I just demanding compliance? The answer, at times, is difficult to face. But growth only comes when we’re willing to acknowledge where we’ve gone wrong and make it right.
Photo by JMF Photos
One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned is how much my horse has been trying to tell me all along. The small resistances, the hesitations, the frustration — all of it was communication. And I ignored it. I chalked it up to bad behavior, lack of effort, or just a need for discipline. I wish I had realized sooner that those moments weren’t about defiance; they were about confusion, discomfort, and stress.
When I slowed down and truly started listening, everything changed. I began to see the signs of mental overload before they turned into bigger issues. I started recognizing when my horse was mentally checked out, overwhelmed, or simply not ready for the level I was asking. I learned to step back and ask, “What do you need from me?” instead of always pushing forward.
Horses don’t fake their reactions. They don’t lie. If they’re struggling, they show it. It’s just a matter of whether or not we’re willing to listen.
Photo courtesy of Marcella Gruchalak
The reality of young horse competitions is that they are a broken system. At their start, futurities were meant to showcase a young horse’s talent and training at an age-appropriate level. The age-propriety aspect has gone by the wayside as the pressure to win has increased. Instead, futurities and young horse competitions are built around deadlines and showing what appears to be a finished young horse, not around what’s actually best for the horse. That’s the harsh truth. A horse that isn’t mentally or physically ready by a certain date is often forced to be ready anyway. We see it over and over — rushed training, skipped foundations, horses barely two or three years old being asked to handle physical and mental pressure they aren’t mature enough to carry.
And what happens to those horses after their futurity years? Some make it. Some become high-level competitors. But too many are broken down, fried, or left behind. It’s common to see horses that were pushed too early sold to a buyer in a completely different discipline. The industry, for all its glorification of young horse champions, often forgets these horses after their prime years in competition are over.
I don’t want to contribute to that cycle anymore. I don’t want to be someone who trades my horse’s well-being for the temporary validation of a win. I’d rather have a sound, happy, willing horse at age 10 than a nervous, sour, physically compromised one at age six.
Photo by JMF Photos
So where do we go from here? How do we create a system that values longevity, partnership, and mental well-being over quick wins?
I believe we need structural changes in young horse competitions. We need:
- Horsemanship-based scoring components in speed events to reward riders who maintain control, show patience, and demonstrate a true connection with their horse.
- Time adjustments or alternative scoring formats that don’t punish a horse for going slower if they’re moving with correctness, relaxation, and willingness.
- Educational incentives for riders to learn about biomechanics, mental development, and appropriate conditioning rather than just focusing on drills and faster runs.
- Encouragement for long-term goals to reward horses that go on to have sound, successful careers beyond their futurity years.
We need a shift in mindset. We need to stop glorifying the idea that faster is always better. We need to recognize that true horsemanship isn’t about how quickly we can produce a winner but about how well we can develop a happy, healthy partner for the long haul.
Photo by Marcella Gruchalak
At the end of the day, more buckles, titles, and prizes don’t matter if I am, or my trainer is, blowing up my horse. If I’m sacrificing the horse’s mental and physical health for a fleeting moment of recognition, then I’ve failed them. I don’t want to look back on my riding career and see a collection of awards that came at the cost of my horses’ well-being. I want to look back and see horses that trusted me, enjoyed their jobs, and lasted for years because I put their needs first. I want to know that I did right by them, that I listened, that I prioritized their well-being over my own ambitions.
I know now that the real prize isn’t a championship title — it’s a sound, willing horse that wants to be with me, that trusts me, that enjoys their work. That’s what truly matters. And that’s the kind of horsewoman I want to be. The pressure to be a winner will always be there, but I refuse to let it dictate how I how I ride or how I treat my horses.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the true reward isn’t found in a trophy case — it’s found in the quiet moments, in the trust my horse gives me, in the years of soundness and willingness that come from doing things the right way instead of the rushed way. The industry may still glorify speed and early success, but I know now that longevity, soundness, and a willing partner are the real achievements worth striving for. So, I choose patience. I choose education. I choose listening. And most importantly, I choose my horse — every single time.
