Riding Against The Grain

Burnout doesn’t always look like giving up.

Sometimes it looks like tacking up out of habit.

Sometimes it’s pushing through rides that feel flat, even though you love your horse more than anything.

Sometimes it’s smiling at the barn and saying you’re “fine” when you’re quietly questioning if you’ve lost something along the way.

I’ve been there—and maybe you have too.

Here’s the thing: you’re allowed to feel tired. You’re allowed to soften, to pause, to reimagine what partnership looks like for this season of your life.

And the most freeing part? You can do all of that without burning your horse out in the process.

Whether you’re navigating work stress, physical exhaustion, emotional overwhelm, or just the invisible weight of keeping it all together—you still deserve to ride.

But maybe ride differently. Maybe more gently.

More honestly.

More in tune with what your body, your mind, and your horse are quietly asking for.

Here are five ways I’ve learned to keep showing up—gently, honestly, and with care for both of us:

1. Let Go of the “Should” Rides

That voice in your head that says:

• “You should flat today”
• “You should be jumping twice a week.”
• “You should be doing more.”

Kindly escort it out.

Your horse doesn’t benefit from a resentful ride. They don’t thrive under pressure masked as structure. Instead, try asking:

“What would feel good to both of us right now?”

Some days, it’s a quiet bareback walk at dusk.

Other days, it’s hand grazing while you sip tea from a thermos, listening to birds instead of counting strides.

And some days, it’s just showing up to groom and say goodnight.

These moments still count.

They often become the ones that tether you back to joy.

2. Create Rituals, Not Just Routines

Burnout feeds on monotony.

If your barn time starts to feel like a checklist—groom, tack, ride, untack, repeat—it’s no wonder your spark starts to dim.

Try weaving in rituals that root you in presence.

Not tasks. Not goals. Just small anchors of meaning.

Like grooming slowly with your bare hands instead of a curry comb.

Breathing with your horse before a ride—just a few deep exhales, shared.

Or watching them eat in the quiet, just watching, without reaching for your phone.

Rituals invite slowness.

And slowness makes space for healing.

3. Do Less, But With More Care

Progress doesn’t always come from more sessions or higher fences.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is simplify.

A 15-minute ride with soft hands, focused breath, and a willing walk is more connective than a 60-minute ride done on autopilot.

You don’t need to earn your time at the barn with effort.

You don’t need to justify your presence with productivity.

Some of the most profound equine moments happen when you drop the agenda altogether.

When you rest your forehead on your horse’s neck and just listen to the wind.

Care is still forward motion.

Softness is still strength.

4. Let Your Horse Be a Mirror, Not a Machine

Horses are honest in a way we rarely let ourselves be.

• If you’re tense, they feel it.
• If you’re rushing, they hesitate.
• If you’re distant, they reach for you or not at all.

Let your horse reflect what you’re carrying, instead of demanding that they perform around it.

Let them be your mirror—not your measuring stick.

If they’re showing up differently, consider what you’re bringing into the space too.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s partnership.

It’s connection over control.

When you stop powering through and start tuning in, something shifts.

Your horse feels it. And often, they soften before you even realize you needed to.

5. Redefine Progress

Burnout thrives in performance culture—the kind that tells you your worth is measured in ribbons, mileage, or how many jumps you raised this week.

But real progress? It lives somewhere quieter.

It’s in the soft exhale your horse gives when you lead them in from the field.

It’s in the way they lean into you during grooming, instead of standing at a polite distance.

It’s in the consistent, gentle asks. The yeses given freely.

This season, try measuring progress in peace.

In softness.

In trust.

Those are wins.

Those are the real stories of a partnership built to last.

Final Thoughts

You can love riding deeply and still feel deeply tired.

That doesn’t make you ungrateful. It doesn’t mean you’re failing.

It means you’re human.

And honesty? That’s something your horse will always understand.

They don’t need the best version of you.

They just need the most present one.

So if you’re showing up in muddy boots, without a saddle, with nothing to prove—know this:

You’re not falling behind. You’re choosing a slower, softer way forward.

You’re still riding. Just against the grain.