I am ordinarily a fairly positive, logical, practical human being. I have actually spent a lot of time working on my brain, sport psychology is one of my favourite subjects and I pride myself in being resilient, focused and confident.
I’ve read countless books, been to many talks and read paper after paper on what makes athletes so good. The answer is almost always, the top two inches, how they get their head in the game and not purely their physical prowess.
I really got into sports psychology in 2012. I was in the lead going into the last vet gate of a Europeans when I went the wrong way and ended up coming in the top 20, instead of racing for a medal position. I knew my horse could get a medal that year and I had let her down. I had thrown away my dreams in one silly mistake and I couldn’t forgive myself. I couldn’t sleep through a night, I’d replay it over and over in my head, I was angry and I knew I’d never get that chance again because the next year I was a senior and that was my last Young Rider Championship.
This is when I went to a Charlie Unwin talk and I started working on the mental aspect of being a horse rider. How our mindset effects every minute of the day and how to harness just the power of my thoughts to improve. Since that talk I’ve learnt so much and have a great toolbox of strategies in my head to improve my performance, maintain consistency and keep a level focused head.
But when Azid went lame just before our 80km qualifier I had reached the end of my emotional resilience. I have had, like most people, a very up and down journey with my mental health and understandably it is easier to be positive when things are going well, but I’ve always been pretty good at looking on the bright side.
After two years of rehabing Azid for different injuries I was so excited to be back on track, at the back of my mind was the niggle of ‘will he be capable after all that’ but alongside that is the hope of ‘he’s going to make it’. In my head I could see us at the start line of our first FEI competition at the Royal Windsor horse show, and could imagine us crossing the line, the best 30th birthday present I could have wished for. But without that 80km under his belt Azid isn’t eligible for FEI and we have to start his novice qualifications all over again as he’s run out of time to upgrade.
What I would like to share is that I did feel sad, I did want to give up, I felt selfish for wanting Azid to be sound for me to compete on, I felt dread and regret that I’d have to go through the process of selling another horse so I could buy one that would be capable of doing what I want to do, I felt self-pity and like I would never make it.
And that’s ok, it doesn’t last, it might be a ‘first world problem’ and ‘pretty minor on the grand scale of things’, BUT to me at that time it was a big deal, that’s where all that research and training comes in and picks my emotions up. I’m not going to give up and I will keep working until I reach my goal. It takes elite athletes hunderds if not thousands of tries before they make it big, most people never make it because they never kept trying not because they weren’t capable.
Equestrians are pretty tough both physically and mentally. We haul haylage and water buckets around, push massive wheelbarrows and throw up lorry ramps. We spend every day caring for an animal in all weathers through all seasons. Horses are an emotional roller coaster and you have to become practical, resourceful and resilient. There’s often no one around to see the good or the bad bits of training, what we share with others is usually the competition highlights. That first place may have taken months, years even, of hard work without reward. I’m going to try and get better at celebrating my training successes, but inevitably, I think those emotions will always be hooked on the thrill of competition.
Beth Endurance 