I love a plan. Perhaps it comes from my professional background as an Operations Manager, or maybe it’s simply the need to stay organised in a busy life. Horses and plans do not always go hand in hand, but having to adapt a plan is very different from having no plan at all. For me, that was the key to having a successful year.
The start of 2026 saw Jerry, my 6-year-old part-bred Connemara, and I beginning to form a real partnership, having welcomed him into my life in 2024 as a newly backed four-year-old.
Following the winter, we were ready to enjoy day camps and lessons and starting to feel more comfortable over fences and producing consistent prelim results. However, I was not an overly confident rider as the height increased, nor did I have much experience over solid fences. Coupled with having a younger horse, albeit an incredibly willing and genuine one, I was always conscious of the need to protect both his confidence and my own.
Setting goals
Rather than focusing on one big end goal, I concentrated on small, short-term objectives and created a mini plan to help us reach them. Ultimately, I had the goal of completing an 80cm one day event, but I knew this would involve a large amount of growth for both of us, and I didn’t set a timescale for this; I focused on the smaller goals to take us on that path.
I would choose a competition or lesson that I wanted to aim for and then work backwards, identifying what I needed to put in place to get there. That might have been booking a lesson, reviewing the number of times I rode each week, or committing to fitness work for both me and my horse. Breaking things down into manageable chunks helped us keep moving forward and gave me a constant sense of achievement. It also meant that when things did not go to plan, and trust me, they certainly did not always go smoothly, I could simply adjust my focus rather than feeling as though all our progress had been lost.
Focusing on those smaller achievements also helped me appreciate the everyday moments. In fact, some of my favourite memories this summer came from experiences that would never result in a rosette. A standout moment came unexpectedly when we hired the gallops to do some canter fitness work. I spent the entire session grinning from ear to ear, simply enjoying the feeling of cantering my pony and having fun. That feeling of joy should always be there even when the nerves kick in.
I have been anxiously waiting in a start box and reminding myself that if I do not enjoy this round, I did not have to do it. Admittedly, by fence four any doubts had usually disappeared, and the feeling of excitement and joy had firmly returned. But those moments served as an important reminder of why we keep pushing whilst also enjoying the journey.
Holding onto my 'why'
We have horses because we adore them, and my lovable Jerry is always my priority. A fellow EquiTeam member once described him as being like the child on the school bus, bursting with excitement on the way to a school trip. It was such an accurate description and one that I always want to protect. As we progressed and began competing more regularly, it became increasingly important to ensure that enjoyment, for both of us, remained at the forefront of everything we did. It can be easy to become focused on results, qualifications, or what comes next, but I never wanted to lose sight of why I started.
Whenever the pressure began to build, I would remind myself of one simple phrase: rider first, competitor second. That mindset allowed me to leave each outing feeling proud of what we had achieved, regardless of where we finished in the placings.Like many riders, I am also my own biggest critic. Self-doubt and imposter syndrome have a habit of appearing just when you least need them. I can certainly remember turning up to some competitions and training sessions wondering if I really belonged there.
Over my experience this year, however, I have learned two important lessons. The first is that we often place far more pressure on ourselves than anyone else does. At almost every competition, or lesson, I have met friendly, supportive people who genuinely want to see others succeed. The equestrian community can be incredibly welcoming when we allow ourselves to be part of it.
The second lesson is that growth often requires us to feel uncomfortable. None of us improve by staying firmly within our comfort zone. There were plenty of moments this season that felt daunting, but I knew I owed it to Jerry, and to myself, to focus on the task at hand rather than dwelling on those doubts. Every time we stepped outside our comfort zone, we learned something valuable and often left feeling more confident than we arrived.
Looking back, we achieved more this summer than I ever imagined possible. We followed a plan, even if it occasionally needed adjusting, and every milestone helped strengthen our partnership and build confidence. There was no single breakthrough moment; instead, progress came steadily over time.
We went from feeling nervous at the thought of tackling a show jumping course to confidently competing around 80cm, progressing from cautiously trotting into logs to galloping over solid fences and cantering through water. It was the accumulation of those small wins, and taking the time to appreciate them, that ultimately made the difference. It’s important to acknowledge that I didn’t achieve this alone. Friends and family who never stopped cheering me on, supportive coaches, understanding yard owners, and eagle-eyed equine therapists have all been an invaluable source of support along the way.
This winter is about maintaining that progression, albeit at a slightly more relaxed pace. Next year will be about consolidation rather than pushing for the next big step. We have challenged ourselves, embraced the uncomfortable moments, and learned a huge amount along the way. Now it is time to become comfortable again, enjoy the journey, and continue building on the foundations we have worked so hard to create.
Mhairi x
Links to recourses that you might find useful after reading this blog:
