I first became interested in reining while visiting family in Amsterdam, of all places. My aunt Carolien, a prolific horsewoman and a huge inspiration to my sister and me, keeps reiners at a barn just outside the city. One cold day, after sharing some coffee from her thermos, Carolien let me ride one of her more seasoned horses. I didn’t bring my boots, so I wore hers, clacking the spurs down the walkway ‘Lucky Luke’ style to make her laugh. The first time I tried the spins, I was transported; muscle memory took over, and I was back on pointe, doing fouettés. Coming out of the spins, I looked at her and broke out into the biggest smile. It was better than dancing.
My aunt Carolien back in the day
From birth until my early twenties, my world was ballet. I worked tirelessly, molding every muscle until the movements were solidified, an effortless exterior masking the pain and struggle underneath. Anyone who has been a professional ballet dancer (or near to it) understands the level of discipline that is needed to “make it.” Maybe it’s just me, but everything I’ve done since just doesn’t seem as hardcore. That is, until I started riding again…
Returning to horses as an adult filled that gap and then some. It’s like dancing but with the most exquisite, dynamic partnership. When a massive beast begins to trust you, you can’t help but start trusting yourself too.
Still in Amsterdam, I watched every episode of "The Run For A Million," Taylor Sheridan’s reality TV show that follows the best reining trainers as they prepare for a big show. I quickly learned who I liked (Craig Schmersal and his seriously talented daughter Addison) and studied the various maneuvers. Suddenly, my Instagram explore page was filled with sliding stops, reining power clinics, and tips and tricks. Yet, I still hadn’t swung a leg over another reiner since my aunt’s.
A few months ago, I finally started reining lessons in Los Angeles. As I walked past arenas at one of the fancier training facilities, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Although I rode most days, I felt new to the world of training, disciplines, and technique when it came to horses. Riding a horse is one thing, but learning a discipline from scratch, on horses with different buttons, and overcoming fears every ride is another.
Initially, I was holding so much tension, reverting back to the classical ballerina, the perfectionist. When my arm started cramping at the walk, I realized I needed a different approach. Funnily enough, my trainer is fascinated by ballet as her six-year-old has recently started. When I struggle with something, she tries to relate it to a move her daughter has been practicing. The main takeaway is being able to isolate different parts of your body – holding tension in one area while being completely fluid in another. In a rundown before a sliding stop, you’re supposed to steadily increase speed until you say “woah,” and the horse bends under itself, sliding its two back legs along the ground until it makes a complete stop. You have to exhale, melt into the seat, and curl from your center. The first time I tried, I pushed my feet into the stirrups, bracing myself for the coming stop, and sabotaged the whole thing. Isn’t that a good reminder for life though? Stay present, breathe, lead from the gut.
Maybe one day, I’ll show. That would be a huge milestone in riding for me. But just as my love of ballet was always about the class, the same goes for riding. I love the daily practice, the meditation, the triumphs and failures, and having to laugh at yourself. That perfectionism does creep in, but I try not to take myself too seriously. I take responsibility for what is working and what is not, never blaming the horse. I try to stay open and curious. I always try to find the win of the lesson. It can be small and usually is: didn’t push out of my stirrups at the stop; transitioned smoother; was breathing more. When I have a frustrating lesson, I just want to go back the next day. Because when something clicks between your mind, body, and the horse, there’s nothing like it.
This summer, my sister and I are returning to Amsterdam to ride with our aunt once again. I can’t wait to show her all that I’ve learned and all that I’ve overcome. I have my own spurs now too.
Ruby x