Madella Stables

I’m working extremely hard to undo some long-standing habits in my own riding. Many of them were born from years of riding dangerous horses, young horses, or horses that required me to be defensive just to stay safe. Those patterns became ingrained in my body, and unlearning them has been far more difficult than learning them in the first place.

The beautiful irony is that the better I ride, the less I need those defensive habits at all.

As my position becomes more balanced and my body more organized, the horses find their own balance more quickly. Young horses become easier to ride because I’m no longer creating the very problems I used to brace against. Instead of riding to survive what might happen, I can ride to help the horse succeed.

I invite some of my students to watch my lessons with my own teacher. Yesterday one of them said, “It just shows you have no ego that you let me watch.”

I thought about that for quite a while.

It isn’t really true. I absolutely have an ego. I’d love nothing more than for my teacher to tell me, “Everything is perfect. Wow, you’re amazing,” while my students stood there thinking, “Wow… she’s got it all figured out.”

Wouldn’t that feel wonderful?

But growth rarely happens there.

The truth is, it is uncomfortable to have people watch me struggle. I’ve always been nervous riding in front of others. I still have moments where I want to protect my image, hide my mistakes, or appear more capable than I feel. Allowing people to witness my own learning is one of the hardest things I do—not because I enjoy being vulnerable, but because I think it’s necessary.

I also think students need to know that their frustrations, insecurities, and setbacks are not unique to them.

They need to see someone they respect make mistakes. They need to watch someone receive corrections, get things wrong, become frustrated, and keep going anyway. They need to know that struggling isn’t evidence that they’re failing—it is evidence that they’re learning.

I’m not a naturally gifted rider.

I’ve ridden my whole life, but for many years I simply became very good at surviving. I developed ways of coping, compensating, and getting through difficult rides. Those habits served a purpose at the time, but now many of them have to be patiently unraveled and replaced with better ones. Rebuilding years of muscle memory is humbling work.

These days I’ve learned to celebrate the small victories instead of dwelling on the other 9,002 things I still need to improve. Those little moments matter. They’re proof that change is happening.

In many ways, I think my struggles have made me a better teacher. Because I know what it feels like to be frustrated, I can recognize it in my students. Because I know how hard change can be, I have more patience with the process. And because I am still learning myself, I never forget what it feels like to stand in the student’s boots.

Perhaps the greatest lesson for me has nothing to do with my position or my seat at all.

It’s learning to stop protecting my image.

To stop trying to look like someone who has it all figured out.

To let people see the messy middle instead of only the polished result.

Because I think we all become better when learning is something we share, rather than something we pretend we’ve already finished.

The drama diva turns 18 today 💅

Secret is a LOT in every way - some obnoxious 😂 but she has given 110% of herself, every day, for the entirety of our decade long partnership.

Happy birthday Secret 🎉

Our second arrival of the week is…..

Rico Suave 🕺🏻

President of the good boy club, Rico is probably the goofiest, kindest 5 year old you’ll ever meet 🦄

Responses may be a bit delayed this week as we transition to summer schedules with camp 🎉 and end the week with a horse show 🦄

Response times will be back to speedy once we’re back to lessons June 16 ✨