Letter to My Younger Equestrian Self
No matter how old you get, you won’t forget the afternoons you spent alone at that first barn. You won’t forget the way the grass ring felt with its slope on the left side, and how you always had to collect a little at the trot to not go racing away. It wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t have to be. Those four stalls, the wood worn smooth by generations of family horses, were your foundation. And it carries you a…