Some things are small. Some things are so small that it’s hard to believe they could make a meaningful difference. Would you notice if something moved 1/1000th of an inch? 1/100th? Would you see if I was 1/1000th of a second faster or slower than you? And even if we did notice, would it really matter?

Justin and Kola were competing in the USA Working Equitation Regional Finals this weekend. The first day, Dressage, Justin tied for first with another rider. The tie was broken by totaling the collective marks, and Justin placed second. The second day, after the Ease of Handling phase—second again. Until…

In the process of checking score sheets, a small addition error was found. When the dust settled, Justin dropped one placing. He trailed second place by… yes… 1/1000th of a point.

For Justin and Kola, that 1/1000th meant some emotional ups and downs, a bit of pressure, and the challenge of channeling that tension into their Speed round. In the end, it didn’t change much. They still rode beautifully. They still came home champions of their division.

But it got me thinking about small differences and the meaning we attach to them.

Competition, by design, magnifies differences. It’s a system of measurement, of ranking, of deciding who wins and who loses. That’s not inherently bad; it can drive growth, focus, and excellence. But when our identity starts to hinge on where we land in that ranking, when our self-worth depends on the data, we step into more dangerous psychological territory.

The idea that who I am is what I achieve, performance identity, is a shaky foundation. In equestrian sport, it’s especially seductive. We invest deeply: time, money, energy, heart. The partnership with a horse makes the stakes feel even more personal. When things go well, we feel validated. When they don’t, we question everything.

When our sense of self depends on the scoreboard, that 1/1000th of a point can feel like a verdict. Not just about performance, but about worth. It narrows our lens until all we can see is how close we came to being “better.” And that steals joy, presence, and perspective from the very thing we love.

The truth is, most of life happens in the space beyond measurement. In the quiet rides, the small moments of connection, the unseen effort, and perhaps most importantly the supportive community that surrounds us . Those things don’t show up on a score sheet, but they are the true substance of growth.

So maybe the challenge isn’t to erase our competitive drive, but to hold it more lightly. To remember that 1/1000th of a point doesn’t define us, it just reminds us how close the margins are between doing and being, between striving and enough.

Justin and Kola didn’t need a perfect score to prove anything. They already had what mattered most: partnership, resilience, and a story that will be retold among friends.

And maybe that’s the point…

Sometimes, the smallest differences are there to remind us of what can’t be measured at all.

~ Paul

#PsychSaturday #PerformancePsychology #EquestrianMindset #1of1000 #GrowthMindset #MindfulCompetition #HorseAndHuman #BeyondTheRibbon #SmallThingsBigMeaning #IdentityAndPerformance #PurposeDrivenPerformance #EmotionalResilience

My horse Revel is the gift that keeps on giving. Last week, I wrote about belief — belief in ourselves, in our horses, and in what’s possible. This week, during my first ride after the Pippa clinic, we had the most beautiful, light, and soft transition from walk to canter. It was just one transition, and we’re really only at the beginning. But I’ll treasure that moment and keep working to let Rev know how good he is at things.

One of our biggest challenges together is undoing what I’ve taught him up to this point. From my work with people, I know that some changes come easily. Sometimes we’re ripe for transformation. We shift one small thing in our balance or our aids and, voilà, the doors fly open. As long as we can reproduce that new balance or way of asking, the new attitudes and behaviors are right there. It’s as if we’d been blocking the good stuff all along and just needed to get out of our own way.

But there’s another kind of change. There are moments when we get things just right and realize that we’ve taught our horses an unhelpful response to the proper aids. After my accident with Revel in 2013, I was terrified he might run off with me again, so I taught him to stop. Apparently, I did this very well. Any time my energy drops or my body softens, he halts, dead still, and still does to this day.

During the clinic, I was working on descente des aides, the silencing or release of the aids. Each time Revel responded and I quieted my aids, he stopped. At first, I was frustrated with myself and then with him. What was I doing wrong? Then it hit me: what if I wasn’t doing anything wrong at all? What if I was actually getting it just right, but in all our years together I had taught him that this moment of quiet meant something else?

It reminded me of my work with children and families. So often, I can see both what’s wrong and how easily it could be fixed if the behavioral contingencies could change. I also know that it would have been easier if the desired dynamics had been established at the start. But now, the river is flowing strong, and we have to make changes mid-stream. This is a task that is possible but that takes thoughtful effort and steady persistence under the guidance of a patient, watchful mentor.

It makes me wonder how many times I’ve felt lost in my riding, not because I was doing something wrong, but because my horses had learned that it meant something else. How many times have I gone chasing different solutions when what I really needed was clarity, help in refining my communication, and patience in helping my horse understand that what I once taught was unhelpful, and that now I want to change the flow of the river?

Man, it’s hard to change things mid-stream. ~ Paul

#PsychSaturday #DressageJourney #MindfulRiding #EquestrianLife #LightnessInRiding #DescenteDesAides #Horsemanship #RiderMindset #EmotionalHorsemanship #HarmonyInMotion #ChangeTheFlow #LessonsFromTheSaddle #RidingFar

Psych Saturday: Show Prep

When we talk about show prep, most people picture a checklist. Pack the tack trunk, polish the boots, braid the mane, review the test. Maybe we also think about our pre-ride routine, how we like to warm up or the way we visualize the course. Those things matter, but they only scratch the surface of what true preparation really means.

Equestrian sport is unique in that we don’t just bring ourselves to the show ring—we bring our horses, their needs, their emotions, their readiness. And we also bring our lives. Every late night, every work stressor, every family responsibility rides along with us. The state of our nervous system can shape the show experience far more than whether we remembered to pack an extra pair of gloves.

This weekend, Justin and his horse, Kola, are heading into a licensed Working Equitation show. The goal: earn the qualifying score they need for the USA Working Equitation Regional Championships. The stakes feel high, and Justin has done all the obvious prep—tack cleaned, entries sent, Kola fit and ready. But the real preparation is happening on a deeper level.

When we step into competition, our nervous systems don’t function in isolation. They carry the imprint of the week, or even the month, leading up to the show. Maybe Justin had a long week at work. Maybe family pressures or unexpected stressors cropped up. 

When our nervous systems are revved up our perception changes. We often filter the world through a negative lens. For Justin, walking into the arena isn’t just about his aids or the shape of Kola’s circles. It’s about whether he can notice the good moments, the quiet tries, and the rhythm they share, or whether his nervous system keeps scanning for what might go wrong.

So what does real preparation look like? Of course, it includes the list, the clean tack, the packed snacks, the warm-up plan. But it also includes caring for the yourself. For Justin, that might mean five minutes of grounding before tacking up, or reframing the stakes: yes, the qualifying score matters, but what matters more is riding in a way that Kola can trust.

Preparation also means compassion. If the week was hectic, Justin can acknowledge that reality instead of fighting it. He can notice that his nervous system is more sensitive, and plan accordingly, simplifying his warm-up, focusing on connection rather than perfection. That kind of awareness is preparation in its own right.

As Justin and Kola step into the arena this weekend, their partnership will reflect not only hours of practice, but the totality of their shared life context. If Justin carries stress but softens his edges, Kola will feel it. If he braces against imagined mistakes, Kola will feel that too.

The truth is, show prep doesn’t start the night before. It starts weeks, even months, in advance. Every time we choose how to meet life’s stressors, care for ourselves, and honor the partnership we’re prepping. The bigger picture always comes with us, and learning to integrate that truth is part of the art of being an equestrian.

This weekend, Justin is riding for a qualifying score. But in another sense, he’s riding for something bigger: the ability to show up fully present with Kola, even in the midst of pressure, nerves, and life’s inevitable chaos. That’s a form of preparation that no checklist can capture, but it’s the kind that matters most. ~ Paul

#PsychSaturday #EquestrianLife #ShowPrep #MindfulRiding #WorkingEquitation #HorseShowReady #EquestrianMindset #RideWithPresence #HorseAndRider #PerformanceUnderPressure #HorseShowSeason #EquestrianJourney #MindBodyHorse #EquestrianWellness #RideConnected #HorseShowMindset

I am accosted every day with sponsored posts, infomercials, and other advertisements. We live in a world where we are constantly being sold solutions to our problems. Like many others, I would love help with a wide assortment of issues, including my hearing loss, overall wellness, weight management, fitness as an ever-aging man, and, of course, elevating my riding skill and ability.

Horse people share in this experience. The internet is flooded with solutions to a million different challenges riders face. There are products and services to fix one unsoundness or another behavioral issue. Promises, promises, and more promises.

I was recently reading a discussion in a Facebook group started by a rider facing fears. As is often the case with fear-related posts, the conversation was flooded with goodwill. People offered compassion and shared their personal stories of overcoming fear. Many normalized the experience and then offered solutions or resources that worked for them.

I do not often feel compelled to respond directly to these posts, but something about this one drew me in. I realized what had caught my attention: the conversation paralleled the way solutions are presented in the commercial world. Read this. Follow this strategy. Work with this person (including a generous endorsement of Riding Far). All of your problems will be solved. Promises, promises, and more promises. All well-intentioned.

There are obvious problems with this marketing strategy. Perhaps the most important is that no single approach or solution works for everyone. We are individuals. Certainly, there are commonalities, yet there are also differences in nearly every aspect of our being. Many times these small, subtle differences in neurology, physiology, psychology, or behavior make all the difference in whether a particular solution works for us.

What if, instead of playing off people’s problems and fears and offering amazing products and services that promise to solve everything, we elevated people and organizations that make it their mission to develop broad and deep knowledge drawn from a wide range of sources and perspectives? Imagine a service that begins with the question, “Who are you?”, honoring the individuality of both person and experience. A service that partners with you in creating a plan that makes sense for you and works with your strengths. A service that actively connects and integrates multiple perspectives and knowledge bases, rather than operating in a silo—or worse, offering services with limited education, knowledge, or expertise.

What struck me in that Facebook conversation, and what continues to shape my own work, is the realization that people do not need more promises. They need to be seen, understood, and supported in ways that make sense for them. I have experienced firsthand the allure of quick fixes, and I have also felt the deep satisfaction of discovering solutions tailored to who I am, not who someone thinks I should be. That is the kind of service I believe in and strive to provide: one that respects individuality, integrates diverse knowledge, and builds genuine partnership. In the end, it is not about selling certainty. It is about walking alongside others as they find their own way forward. Join me in championing those who ask, “Who are you?” and empower us to find solutions as unique as we are. ~ Paul

PC – Erin Gilmore Photography

#PsychSaturday #RidingFar #EquestrianLife #EquestrianMindset #SportPsychology #HorseAndRider #RiderConfidence #EquestrianWellness #MindfulRiding #EquestrianCommunity #FearlessRiding #HorsePeople #RiderGrowth #EquestrianSupport #WholePersonApproach #EquestrianJourney #RiderResilience #EquestrianWisdom #HorseRiderConnection #EquestrianCoaching

I have been on the road a lot lately. This weekend finds me in Winfield, West Virginia for the Appalachian Trainer Face Off (ATFO). The ATFO is the brain child of the Tinia Creamer and the Heart of Phoenix Rescue. If you don’t know the story of Heart of Phoenix Equine Rescue, INC and the Appalachian Brumbies, it is one worth reading about. Unwanted horses released on the old strip mines forming feral herds, struggling to survive. Tinia saw a need and did something about it. She has never looked back.

The ATFO, a 100-day trainer challenge with feral horses, showcases these horses while uniting trainers to prepare them for adoption. Each year, the competition improves in some way, benefiting the horses, the trainers, and the equestrian community.

Originally a 100-day training challenge for riding horses, the ATFO now includes a 365-day division for horses needing more time, a showcase division for non-competing horses, and a “Whipper-Snapper” division for young horses focused on groundwork. This year, the event introduced “Rider Wars,” which aims to enhance riders’ knowledge, skills, and horsemanship.

We often discuss the need for role models or heroes in our world, seeking inspiration and guidance. I used to admire people for their great accomplishments, but now I value those who embody Maya Angelou’s quote, “When you know better, do better,” as my standard for choosing heroes.

Falling short of an ideal, making mistakes, or missing the mark is not the real issue. We are all flawed, and our creations are imperfect. The critical question is how we respond when we recognize these flaws. Do we wallow in self-pity and shame? Do we blindly forge ahead to keep going? Or do we grow, develop, and strive to do better?

I have missed the mark in my life and work more times than I can count, and I haven’t always handled my mistakes well. Even when I tried to do better, my efforts were far from perfect. Spending time with passionate, deeply human individuals working tirelessly to make a difference inspires me to keep striving to do better. I hope you’ll join me. ~Paul

PC – Erin Gilmore Photography

#AppalachianTrainerFaceOff#HeartOfPhoenix#HorseRescue#FeralHorses#Brumbies#EquestrianCommunity#HorseTraining#RiderWars#WhipperSnapper#EquineAdoption#DoBetter#Horsemanship#InspireChange#TaniaCreamer#WinfieldWV#EquestrianInspiration#MakeADifference#horses#relationshipswithhorses#ridingfar#ridingfarllc#equestrian#equestrianlife#sportpsychology#equestriansportpsychology