I remember the heat, mostly. In Redding, California the sun burned down into our arena, leaving a temperature that rarely fell below 102 degrees. I remember the horse hair that stuck to the back of my legs, and for that, I blame my mother, who insisted that good balance came from riding bareback. I also remember the long rides on my friend's ranch, the feeling of four powerful hooves underneath me, gliding through the creek she had... the open pastures where we would let our horses run, at what felt like a thousand miles an hour, their feet thundering on top of the soil.

I also remember the nerves I had whenever I climbed on something new, or something I noticed to be fresh. I remember feeding our horses peppermints and wondering if it would give them a sugar high before I was about to ride. Going to school in boots, feeling insecure because I didn't want anyone to think I wasn't "girly enough."

And then, I started showing. Everything changed after that. I no longer wore large tee shirts or little yoga pants stuffed into boots, but shirts that zipped up the back, covered in sparkles. I wore chaps that were hot and spent what felt like forever getting my horse spotlessly clean. I began to understand the time it took to prepare for something you wished to be successful in. I took lessons with new people, felt the hard ground hit me after falling 15 hands, more times that I would probably like to remember. It was then that I began to learn about persistence, confidence and how to work through frustration.

Fast forward about five years. I was in high school, competing on the rodeo team. My shirts no longer zipped up the back but stayed covered in dust and sweat. My horses were no longer slow and collected, but full of energy and hard to hold back. During this time I traveled the state of California, competed at the High School Nationals in Wyoming (which is the largest rodeo in the world with over 2,500 contestants) and got to know everyone from stock contractors, rodeo clowns, and bull doggers. I spent so many weekends in our live-in-quarters horse trailer, running all over the rodeo grounds with my friends and trying to work through my nerves when I backed into the box or went through the gate faster than I had anticipated. I tried all the events I was interested in- barrels, poles, breakaway, team roping and goat tying. It was then I began to notice how many options I had in the horse world.

Fast forward another three or so years. I started to get my feet wet in reining and was even offered a few out-of-state NCAA scholarships. Eventually, I packed up and moved to Murfreesboro, Tennessee to become part of their Equestrian team and compete with the Stock Horse students. It was then that I realized this passion could take me anywhere I wanted to go if I wanted it bad enough.

Growing up, I remember a lot of things about my horses and what it felt like to be a part of them...but I never really realized all I was learning. Sure, I learned the parts of the horse (another shout out to my mom, with her binders full of equine information), different ways to tie a knot and how to track a cow, but I never took the time to notice what those horses were teaching me and how it would stay with me as I grew.

Horses teach you so much about people. They teach you to be patient, to improvise and they definitely teach you to come out of your comfort zone. I've learned how to trust from learning how to read horse behavior. I've learned to take time and focus on my animal and what makes them comfortable. It's taught me to be observant and to care; to slow down and tune in, which carries into my everyday life outside of the barn.

I've learned to be creative. There's nothing like trying to solve a problem with 20 different approaches. As a rider, you have to work with your horse's limits and knowledge; one horse may like a certain approach that another does not. I've learned to deal with fear- and not just my own. In so many situations, I had to be the comforter, and in many cases, I was not prepared to comfort an animal taking off or jumping sideways or running backward, because I was a bit surprised myself. I had to put my own feelings aside to comfort and calm my animal. Furthermore, I've had to help my horses get over their fears. whether that be a fear of tarps, getting in the trailer, walking over a puddle...it all took time and a creative approach. There is never a quick fix for a horse that won't turn into a bigger problem later...kind of like life.

I've learned a lot about dedication and persistence. I can't count the days I spent, dripping sweat after repeating over and over some stupid exercise until it felt halfway decent. In the horse world, you get used to being repetitive. There were too many days where I was determined to make a perfect pattern, a perfect run, and my horse just simply told me no. And in those infuriating moments, I had to set my feelings aside and go back to the basics, cursing myself for choosing to participate in a sport that required the cooperation from something 100 times my size without the slightest understanding of the English language. In those moments, dealing with people in a workplace seemed too easy.

Now, I see how much I have been given by being allowed the opportunity to step into this world. I've worked with ropers, World Champion barrel racers and cow horse competitors, I've worked under cutters, reiners, jumpers, trainers and horsemanship professionals and made friends all across the country. I've traveled, literally, from one coast to the other living this incredible life. And all the while I had no idea just how beautiful this gift was.

I mean, how many people can read a 1200 pound animal? How many people can climb on a horse's back and ask "what do you need?" and understand the answer when it's not even spoken out loud? How many people can make something that large move and react with cues you can not see from the rail? It's a talent I have grown to cherish, not because it makes me feel successful or ahead of anyone else, but because I can share an intimacy and understanding with something so much more complicated and powerful than myself. With an animal large enough to crush me in a heartbeat, I can share a bond and a mutual trust found in the quietest of moments or the most chaotic of situations. A chemistry I can feel at a flat out run or across the barn that I step into in the morning. Feeling a horse react to you and with you is unlike any other feeling in the world. It's rewarding, it's unbelievable and it's addicting all in the same breath.

I cherish this gift because it has put me more in touch with myself, it's made me braver, softer and more analytical. I've met people I never considered myself good enough to work with, competed in places that sometimes felt larger than life and I've discovered the truest version of myself. It's crazy to think this all started by swinging my leg over a horse. At times I am still shocked by the kind of incredible lifestyle this passion has let me live.

It's more than loving an animal, more than being persistent and it's more than the buckles you win at the shows. For me, it's a rock in my life. Life can be terrifying, especially when it doesn't go as planned...when you have no idea what's coming next and an even less idea of how you should handle it. Sometimes life feels like this large, foreign ocean that has sucked you in just to leave you drowning. I've felt that way more times that I would like to admit but one thing has always given me comfort, and that is the belief that this passion will always take me wherever it is I want to go. It's the one thing I turn to when everything falls apart. It's what I remember when I think of my happiest memories and what drives me to create a better future. It's what has helped me move through life with love and excitement and what has grounded me and brought me back to a place of confidence and peace when nothing else can.

Competing in the horse world put me through my first 2 years of college. It taught me how strong I could be, how brave I could be and it showed me to be selfless. I learned not to give up, but also, I learned to fight ruthlessly for what I want. I saw the United States from one side to the other and I learned to deal with everything from fear and nerves to disappointment and frustration. I was able to know what it felt like to win after endless hours of effort and what it felt like to lose just the same.

Like I said, being a horsewoman is the truest part of myself and the side of me I know the best. It fulfills me in ways nothing else can because it has given me so many skills and provided me with the most knowledge of how to make my way through life. It's always been there to comfort, push and grow me. Horses were the first thing that taught me the biggest rule of life- whatever you put into it, is what you will get out of it.