How I Let Go of Riding My Mare: Acceptance, Reinvention, Growth

⏱ Reading time: about 7 minutes

Introduction

When you buy a horse, you picture years of trail rides, progress, and partnership in the saddle. I had that dream too. Then my mare’s health took a different path. Diagnosis after diagnosis led me toward another form of love and presence: stopping ridden work, reinventing our relationship, and putting her well-being first.

1. The shock and the hard acceptance

The shock wasn’t sudden. It settled in like a shadow growing over months, even years. When I bought her, I already knew my mare wasn’t completely sound. The veterinarian who examined her couldn’t clearly identify the cause, but her cautious look made me realize the road might be full of obstacles.

A few months later, reality set in: she was markedly lame. The verdict fell: navicular syndrome in the right front. I tried to keep believing, telling myself we’d find a solution. But more than a year later, other diagnoses piled on like a cascade of bad news: a navicular bone cyst on the right, navicular syndrome in both fronts, kissing spine.

We tried everything: shoes, boots, corticosteroid injections, medication. Nothing truly worked—or at least not long enough for hope to become a real victory. I also multiplied parallel approaches, calling on many professionals: an equine massage therapist, osteopath, chiropractor, acupuncturist, and laser therapy. Each attempt fed a small flame of hope that died out a few weeks later.

Throughout this process, I turned to groundwork, notably the Parelli program. It was a new way to understand each other and stay connected. She needed to move, despite the pain, to preserve mobility, support her physical issues, and maintain mental balance. Groundwork allowed us to meet those needs without worsening her discomfort.

In September 2023, three years after she arrived, I decided to retire her at the age of 11. It wasn’t an impulsive act but the result of a long journey. Little by little, I stopped seeing myself as her rider and became, above all, her caregiver.

2. Understanding to better accept

With each new diagnosis, I moved a little closer to my decision and further from the idea of riding her again. Some results were particularly hard to take, like the navicular cyst—an irreversible, degenerative condition. How could I imagine she might get better in a lasting way?

I read a lot, listened, and compared the opinions of the professionals around me. All of this helped me build an increasingly clear picture of reality. The more I understood what was happening in her body, the more I saw my role had to change.

I came to a simple but essential conclusion: her well-being came before anything else—even before my deep desire to ride and develop a horse–rider relationship. I chose to put that commitment first, for good. In truth, the process had started well before the official decision: I was already riding her very little because she often wasn’t doing well, and I always respected her signals. What really changes is how you project yourself. Hope and vision of the future make all the difference between waiting for her to get better and accepting she will never return to ridden work.

3. Reinventing the relationship

When riding became impossible, I looked for other ways to share quality time with her. Walks in-hand, grooming sessions, and ground games quickly became our new common ground. The Parelli program helped me keep a framework for learning and communication. I progressed to Level 2, but at some point I hit a wall on several exercises that required working at the trot.

Despite those limits, there was immense satisfaction in seeing her comfortable in her body, even without riding. This transformation took on another dimension when I chose to move her to an environment better suited to her needs. I was thrilled to see her join a new herd and live a horse’s life in a space adapted to her physical constraints and temperament.

That’s when I understood that her well-being wasn’t measured solely by the absence of lameness, but also by her ability to interact, move freely, and express natural behaviors.

4. What I learned about myself

This journey taught me patience, letting go, and listening. I learned that it’s important to fight for your horse—but only up to a point. When efforts turn into stubborn persistence, they end up wearing us down and harming us more than helping.

I also redefined what it means to be a horse owner. At first, I thought I’d bought a horse to ride. Looking back, I realize I mainly brought a companion into my life—someone with whom to build a deep bond, a being beside whom I could grow through the relationship.

This experience revealed the priceless value of the emotional bond over performance. If I were to start again with another horse, I would begin by building that bond before even thinking about sitting on their back.

5. Messages for those living the same thing

Acknowledging your emotions is essential. They are 100% normal and even necessary to move forward. Sadness, anger, and doubt are part of the process. There’s nothing to hide or downplay.

Surrounding yourself with people who understand helps you get through this stage. My loved ones heard about it again and again as I questioned myself. I even considered rehoming her before changing my mind. There were times when I felt like nothing but a caregiver, even though I felt I had so much more to give.

Remembering that our horse does not measure our relationship by hours in the saddle helps put things in perspective. When we face a situation we can’t control, the best we can do is accept it and make the most of it. This difficult moment can become an opportunity to create something constructive—for yourself and for your horse.

Conclusion

Letting go of riding my mare was one of the most painful decisions of my life as a rider. It’s also the one that allowed me to discover a deeper relationship—one that respects her real needs. Today, I no longer measure our bond in miles covered in the saddle but in moments shared, glances exchanged, and trust built step by step.

If you’re going through something similar, your value as an owner does not depend on your ability to ride. It’s measured by your commitment to giving your horse a life that respects their well-being—even if that means reinventing your vision of horsemanship.

Sarah Pierard
Passionate about horses and committed to their well-being.