I didn’t set out to be one, mind you, it just kind of happened. Looking back I should’ve realized it was foretold: I’ve been asked to ride horses that aren’t mine since my first boarding experience way back in 2007. Now I’m getting paid to be a trail horse trainer. This makes me a professional, according to science (citation needed).
The first paying gig sprouted from a non-paying ride from last year. A friend of mine, who I met by just tagging along with her and her husband for no reason other than they, too, were riding Arabians (it works), offered her 6-year-old horse as a substituted ride when mine were out of commission, for one reason or another. I said. why the heck not? Let’s go.
Soft entry into horse training
Dillin (the horse) is lovely. In fact I’ve made the request/demand that if he is ever offered for sale that I get first right of refusal. Do I need more horses? Of course not. But in fairness to me, this was before Stormy was given to me.
I rode Dillin a few times after and have always loved it. He’s quite a greeny beany, being only six. This means he’ll eyeball something I wouldn’t otherwise bother to notice, worrying the big rock isn’t a big rock so much as it is a lair of a horse-eating granite troll. As mentioned in a previous post, I do not punish horses through their anxiety. If the horse is nervous about something and then you apply stress, you’ve turned a spark into forest fire. Now every time he perceives something spooky, he must also be afraid of me? Let’s be smarter, people.
ANYWAY, when Dillin eyed either a picnic bench or a fire ring (jury’s still out), I let him. We stood there, him arching his neck, ears pricked forward, with some snorts, and me sitting there like a blob of congealed Jell-o, radiating calm while applying a second layer of tan to my already baked face. Meanwhile, his besties moved up the hill, without him. I reminded Dillin that he was the bravest horse in all the land. He could do this. Sure enough, he picked his way through the scary campsite unscathed, with lots of praise lauded on him via my cooing voice and neck rubs.
Becoming a trail horse trainer, apparently
Fast forward to July of 2025. A friend of Dillin’s mom has a five year old Arabian who’d never been on trail. This horse is named Legacy. “Legs” for short. Legacy’s owner was nervous about taking him out, especially after back surgery, and was understandably worried about falling. Green horses do green horse things, and trails are full of surprises. And wild hogs.
So I was hired to train Legacy on trail. I’ve taken him out twice, for a total of 6 hours. I’m typing this from my office and not a hospital bed, so obviously: success.
We’ll go out again once the trails dry out. I’m about to offer my services to others. Legacy is the sixth horse I’ve started on trail. Not only do I take the horses out, I record the rides on my DJI camera. Both of Legacy’s rides are on my YouTube channel (unlisted, they’re long and let’s be real: helmet camera footage is a niche interest. Especially when nothing is catastrophic). But they’re great for owners to see progress, and for me to talk through my process in real time. Like when Legacy gave me a little buck. Nothing rodeo-worthy, just a curt “no thank you” to my suggestion we canter a wee ways. Like a toddler pushing away a spoonful of peas with a little jammy fist of displeasure.
How kind of him to communicate.
More personally, I’m excited that this might be a real thing. That decades of riding experience might become part of how I support myself. It’s proof that staying open to new opportunities can pay off being open to new things can pay off. That life paths diverge all the time, they only ask we take a chance and walk down them.
Yeah, I’m a horse trainer now. Not because I planned it, other than a soft aside to the universe via a quick “maybe I should become a trail horse trainer?” thought only to myself. But because horses, and maybe the universe, heard that soft wish and conspired. Then I, a professional according to science, answered: Yes.