I’m not going to tell you exactly how old this photo is, but my dad took it of me at one of my first horse shows. I was wearing clothes that were primarily from a women’s boutique, not a Western store, and boy, did I hate those pants. This is what happens when your parents don’t ride. I love them anyway!

“How do you make your parents understand your obsession with horses when they don’t ride?” A friend of mine recently posed this question. It’s a valid one, and a question with no easy answer. I’m not even sure you really can make a non-horseperson understand this crazy, smelly, dangerous, expensive, four-legged-centered world in which we lunatic eventers reside. It just might be one of the great mysteries of the universe, or at least one of the great chasms dividing the world as we know it into those that love the smell of horse poop and those that do not.

And don’t even get me started trying to distinguish between the two very confusing categories of true horse people versus people who just have horses. And have you ever tried to explain your sport versus barrel racing or breed shows or the Clydesdales? Sigh. It’s a twisty, turny, convoluted road with no easy answers. Trying to decipher the code clearly to those you love who think you are speaking some crazy combination of Swahili and Chinese can drive you straight to the loony bin.

I understand my friend’s frustration. She’s a twenty-something, determined to make it in the eventing world professionally, horse crazy entrepreneur who is giving it everything she’s got. Her parents are dubious. I get it. They have reason to be. Blood, sweat and tears don’t even begin to cover the expense or the hardship or the darned reality of trying to make it in the horse world. And let’s be real, those of us who live the life, whether we are professional horse folks or not, do tend to be a bit round the bend. But we can’t help it. It’s what makes us tick. What makes us who we are. It isn’t just a hobby or a diversion; it’s a lifestyle, an addiction. We couldn’t change it even if we wanted to, and Lord knows there are times I’ve wanted to!

My mom swears my first word was “horse.” I’m…

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