For all of us there are moments in a lesson when the horse is the least complicated part of being in the arena.

We’ve all been there when a student suddenly wells up mid-ride, or they go silent, or respond to a simple request with visible frustration.

As instructors, we often find ourselves supporting our students through more than just riding techniques. The emotional landscape of the arena can be complex and unexpected.

Riding Far is putting together a free training for instructors, coaches, and clinicians to help navigate these moments with greater clarity and confidence.

We’d love your help shaping it.

To make sure it speaks directly to what would help you the most, we’ve asked a few questions a short form, it just takes a few minutes.

If you’ve ever thought, “I wish I had more tools for these moments,” we’d be honored to hear what you need.

You’re welcome to remain anonymous.

Click here -> https://link.ridingfar.com/widget/form/N04MzDGpRHPeU61HEjdg

Thank you in advance for helping us help you.

I hit the ground hard and felt his feet flying over my head. Just moments earlier, we had been standing quietly by the wall.

I’m a professional rider who spends a lot of time looking for what happens before what happens happens, as the saying goes. Sometimes you just don’t see what’s going to happen before it happens and it’s in these moments that we get hurt.

I was lucky this time— a mildly separated AC joint in my right shoulder and a bruised leg. After a few weeks, I’m already back in the saddle. But those weeks out of the saddle gave me something important to reflect on.

With extra time spent sitting with my a$s in a chair instead of a saddle, busy with lessons, office work, and liberty training, something obvious hit me: When my students struggle, I often take the easy route—stepping in and handling things myself rather than breaking it down and guiding them through it.

But what happens when I can’t step in? I find the holes in my teaching. I struggle to be clear, I lack creativity, and I have trouble rephrasing instructions when something isn’t clicking. Ironically, sitting in a chair all day exhausts me because even from outside the arena I can’t help but ride every stride!

So, if so much of my teaching relies on stepping in and “doing,” can I challenge myself to truly teach without doing?

Professionally, my job is training horses—mostly young horses across various disciplines. Working with horses is my life, my trade, my passion. But there’s another part of my job I didn’t train for: teaching.

I worked with my first paid client horse and taught my first lesson at age 16. Until then, all my education was about horses—not teaching. To be honest, I wasn’t adequately prepared to teach back then. And truthfully, am I today? I still haven’t attended school specifically to learn how to teach. Have you?

If your answer is yes, you’re in the minority. Most of us in the equestrian industry teach, but few have formal training in teaching methods, myself included. I find this lack of education unsettling as a whole. If you’re like me, you’re probably teaching without formal qualification. I figure it’s time to change that… and it starts with a conversation.

I remember an ad campaign from the ‘70s where Andy Griffith is sitting at a table with an assortment of food. One by one, he selects something—ham, cheese, or peanut butter and jelly—and places it on a Ritz cracker. Because, as we all know (at least those of us born before 1970), “Everything tastes better when it sits on a Ritz.”

I have been in a reflective space as of late, and one of the things I have been wondering about is: what exactly makes me better at what I do? What is my equivalent of the Ritz cracker?

If I think back to the early days of practice and compare myself to a younger me, I certainly know a lot more now than I did back then. I know more about psychology, neurology, human behavior, performance, and human interaction in general. I also know more about a multitude of interventions, and I have a ton of tools in my toolbox that I didn’t have back then. But did this knowledge and skill make me a better therapist or performance coach?

Certainly, growing my knowledge, skill, and experience went a long way in making me better. But that is more like the ham, Swiss cheese, or peanut butter and jelly. Sure, it is necessary, but is it sufficient to be my best self?

One awareness I keep coming back to is how emotionally stressed I was early in my career. I was often anxious or uncertain when faced with new clients and their difficult challenges. I would panic at times if I didn’t know how to respond. I would get frustrated and angry when clients did not follow through with my suggestions. I judged myself harshly and would get caught up in ruminating about perceived mistakes. In short, I had a difficult time regulating myself and my emotional response to professional challenges.

It makes me smile to think that I have made a living helping people better regulate themselves, and at the same time, the one thing that will continue to make me better at what I do is to grow in my ability to regulate myself. Grow in my ability to regulate my nervous system activation. Grow in my ability to regulate my emotions. Grow in my ability to regulate my thoughts and behavior. Because everything is better when it is done by a well-regulated person. Regulation is the Ritz. ~ Paul

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