Whenever size inclusivity popped up on my social feeds, I used to ignore it, unable to find the words for how I felt. But lately, with long overdue activism pushing us out of our comfort zones to encourage change, it feels like the right time for those words to come to fruition.

You could call me, if you must, a plus size rider. My breeches are a size 36 or 38, sometimes even a 40 if things run narrow or I don’t want to risk returning a too small size. My boots were labeled “plus” when I bought them. My sunshirts? An XXL. But when people ask me on Instagram what it’s like to be a plus size rider, I tell them I don’t know. To me, I am, and have always been, just a rider. Sure, I have a booty, thighs that touch, and a little more jiggle around my waist than I would like, but my passion for this sport or softness in the saddle isn’t affected by the size of my clothes.

Unfortunately, most of our sport doesn’t see it that way. I can count on both hands the amount of brands I can buy quality breeches from in my size. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen an amazing new product or stunning small business, but their size chart features an XL as a 10-12. Even then, everyone pushes to support small businesses, and while I do my best, usually purchasing accessories or something of the sort, most size ranges stop at a large. The models in the flyers and magazines I get each month? They look nothing like me.

I didn’t used to be “plus size.” In college, as an overworked student-athlete, I was a fit, curvy size 32 in my beloved Tailored Sportsmans. I could easily go into a store, pick something off the rack—albeit from the back where the rest of the mediums and larges reside—and purchase it without worry about it how it might fit. While I never considered myself skinny—I’ll thank my unhealthy relationship with food for that—the range of breeches I could zip up were endless.

But after college, I traded weekly lessons and practices riding numerous horses a day for a job where I spend 80% of my work days sitting at a desk. I ride my semi-retired horse four to five times a week instead of six or seven. A family history of thyroid issues and years of ignoring a gastro-intestinal disorder reared their ugly heads. My relationship with food was slightly improved and I found a person who loves me no matter what size the clothes I buy are. Bodies fluctuate—that’s life.

Now, when I used to be excited, I get nervous when I have to buy new riding clothes. Those “plus” boots I mentioned? They’re at the end of their life and the brand that made them, not my favorite but one I was so excited to see have an offering in my calf size, discontinued them. My options are sub-par quality with bad craftsmanship or customs reaching close to the thousands. If I made a list of breeches in my size, most would be “tights,” not the high quality breeches I am looking for.

I don’t care if a brand chooses to label them extended sizes or if a retailer puts them in a sub category all their own. I do care that the industry recognizes that there are riders out there just like me. They can call it plus sized. But I am me sized. And we all deserve to feel represented in this sport we dedicate so much of our lives to.

-TC

Because—and we’ve all heard this one, too—this will all pass and brighter days are on the horizon.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know we’ve all heard it, but right now, only four weeks in, it makes my heart ache.” I typed those words in early March, back at the beginning of Ax’s rehab, and I wish I had some perspective as to where we would be now.

Quite a bit has changed in the past four months of Ax’s rehab. The end of June should have set us up for almost 30 minutes of trotting, looking toward the reintroduction of cantering. Instead, I head to the barn everyday, telling myself I won’t be disappointed if my inconsistently sound horse is having a “bad day,” as we choose to call them. Right now, Ax can only fulfill his allocated 10 minutes of trotting time on his good days.

When we reintroduced trot mid-May, I cried happy tears during our 10-second intervals down the long side of the indoor, tracking left. To the right, the tears turned to frustration as it took less than one 10-second interval to realize he was head-bobbing lame on the other front leg—that’s right, the leg we weren’t rehabbing. On what had already felt like a precarious ride for the past three months, my boat suddenly got flipped over.

Almost six weeks later, we’ve tried a handful of conservative diagnostics and treatments to nail down what is causing the sudden lameness. A past injury to the right front shoulder is likely the culprit, but our initial thoughts of arthritis aren’t seeming to completely line up with the continued discomfort Ax displays under saddle. Without a rider, he’s sound as “his normal” has been since said past injury, but the second you ask for trot with a rider, his right front isn’t in full working order.

Next up is another vet visit—another vet bill—and hopefully some answers. Each day we go without a diagnosis and solution is another delay in the healing of the left front.

My frustration has tried to get the best of me in this time. It convinces me that I should just retire him, letting him be pasture sound, a lawn ornament who gets brushed once a week. It whispers in my ear that I should be upset with my horse and resent each day I pull into the barn driveway. It blurs things in monochrome, reminding me that my horse has been unsound for six months and skipping the details of how and why. It turns my mood into something overwhelmingly sour and takes away sight of reality.

In those moments, I choose to remind myself not of my reality, but of my perspective. In April, while spending endless minutes walking Ax, bareback and in a halter, and relishing in the warm spring temperatures, I couldn’t help but think back to that early March blog post where I felt cheated out of my time in the saddle. The longing to be back atop my horse felt so real at one time, but in that moment, while I was staring at the outdoor ring’s scenery through my favorite ears still fluffy from winter fuzz, those old feelings seemed so small.

That’s what I hold on to now. Because—and we’ve all heard this one, too—this will all pass. Brighter (sounder) days are on the horizon, and I can’t way to see them through those same, now less fluffy, ears.

-TC

Anytime is a great time to buy from a small business, but as most of the country is confined to their homes and businesses are forced to temporarily close their doors and cancel vending at shows, now is an even better time to support those who may be suffering from the effects. I’ve rounded up a few of my favorite small businesses owned by fellow amateurs for your shopping needs, and if you can’t support by purchasing, give them a follow and peruse their online sites whenever you’re ready!

Coast to Coast Equestrian

Coast to Coast Equestrian makes one of my favorite pieces of equine-inspired pieces that I wear daily—the Namesake Cuff. Instead of a chunky, leather nameplate bracelet from a tack shop, the Namesake Cuff is thin, cute, and completely handmade. I have gifted many a Cuff since they opened, and the founders, Jane and Jamie, are the other two-thirds of our equine-obsessed ammy trio. If you follow along on their Instagram, you also may notice photos taken by yours truly and their other handmade items like tack cleaner and conditioner, keychains, and stickers!

Between the Ears Bonnets

Another small business local to me, Between the Ears Bonnets are handmade by fellow amateur Michala. After struggling to find a bonnet to fit Ax’s small ears but normal sized crown, I had a custom one made and it’s perfect. In addition to custom orders where you can choose your colors, trim, and embroidery or a patch, you can find pre-made bonnets that are ready to ship.

Myst Equine Products

I have collected a variety of Myst Equine Products since discovering the brand—and meeting the amazing team of ladies behind it, one of them being an ammy—a few years ago, but the Dry Shampoo is by far my most-used product. Ax gets a generous spritz and rub down with a clean towel a few times a week and he comes out looking cleaner with every use, especially during the chilly weather when bathing isn’t an option. When it is warm enough for a bath, their new shampoo bars comes with a handy scrubby glove, and more than 10 washes later, my bar is still going strong.

ACE Equestrian

I have featured ACE Equestrian belts a few times in the land of blogging, and this is no exception. Founded by Annie, a fellow ammy formerly based in New England, my Black + Black belt is one of my favorites and most worn. I’ve been meaning to pick up the Buck Off Cancer belt that supports a recently diagnosed Massacusetts-based eventer—a perfect way to support two amazing ladies in one—and now is the perfect time.

Stay safe out there, and happy shopping!

-TC

Riding is my sanity—it’s my “me time” at the end of a long day or busy work trip—and with an aging horse, it feels like I am getting robbed.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know we’ve all heard it, but right now, only four weeks in, it makes my heart ache.

I’m not very superstitious, but I think I jinxed myself. At the end of last year, I was celebrating a full year of Ax being sound since his big lameness two years prior and being done with rehabbing a “senior” horse while successfully managing his arthritis. Seven days later, he was off and I haven’t sat in my saddle since.

I blame it on growing up owning a hardy pony who did most of the injuring to others as opposed to getting injured, but whether it’s just from a superficial scrape or something more serious, my horse coming up unsound always sends me spinning. Sure, Ax is a healthy, fit, freshly 20-year-old horse, but he also has 20 years of usage on his legs, most of those with weight on his back while jumping over fences of various heights.

So, when Ax suddenly trotted out lame in early January and presented with some swelling in his fetlock, I was concerned. It persisted after a vet visit and two weeks of conservative care, and I was worried. Then, radiographs showed the potential of something serious and I was devastated. But when an ultrasound finally showed some desmitis, I was relieved. After three diagnostic appointments and over a month of stressing, we found that Ax pulled the lateral oblique sesamoidean ligament in his left front. I never thought I’d be thankful for a soft tissue injury.

Relief aside, I am officially sidelined, sitting on the bench instead of in the saddle. Ax’s rehab process is expected to be between four and six months, the typical amount of time for a minor soft tissue injury like his. From 15 minutes at the beginning to 40 minutes by the end of March, each day I go to the barn for his prescribed handwalking, which lately has been more like kite flying. Like a toddler on a leash, he has taken up the occasional hissy fit, pulling off scarves and hats while trying to roll at any moment. Within the first eight weeks, he will have three treatments of shockwave therapy to aid in healing of the ligament, then a second ultrasound to check its progress before I can tack back up for a few minutes of walking.

If you look on social media, it looks like Ax and I are doing okay—happily plodding around endless laps of the indoor arena. But what Instagram didn’t see were the tears pre-diagnosis or the heaping spoonfuls of Ben & Jerry’s that felt like they helped with the stress over vet bills that still feel like they are consuming me. Though the feeling has faded as we have both become adjusted to the rehab schedule, real life felt like a nightmare because riding is my reliever and that was out of the question.

Call me selfish—I know it could be worse. Ax will be sound again; a mild soft tissue injury is far from career-ending, especially since his lifestyle consists of hacking around the ring in a semi-retired-but-not-really way. Even the vet has assured me that he should be back to 100% with time. But riding is my sanity—it’s my “me time” at the end of a long day or busy work trip—and with an aging horse, it feels like I am getting robbed of those four to six months. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I know we’ve all heard it, but right now, only four weeks in, it makes my heart ache.

-TC

Amid an array of half-finished grocery lists, an organized lineup of my horse’s blankets, and miscellaneous championship winner interview questions in the notes on my phone, I have a habit of keeping a list of the best things that have happened each year. The date and an emoji or two serve as a log of some of the year’s highlights—call it my modern way of keeping a diary.

In what feels like a record year both in and out of the saddle, 2019’s list includes a few especially exciting moments. So as the world prepares to close the door on the last 365 days, it feels only right to look back on the best of them.

In April, Ax cantered his first line and vertical since 2017’s Mystery Lameness. After 16 months with all four on the ground and only trotting the occasional small crossrail, I’m not sure who was more excited. A few months later, in October, he cantered his first full course in almost two years. It’s the small victories, friends.

Ax also turned 19 on January 7, which still feels unreal. Almost as unreal as the fact that he will now be turning 20 next month. Thankfully he keeps letting me know that his age is just a number and that he couldn’t give a buck about it. The goal is to keep it that way in years to come.

One of the year’s big announcements came when I began a new job at the United States Hunter Jumper Association in May, which might have been the best thing I did for myself in 2019. I love my new job and all the traveling I was able to do because of it. In a five-month span, I found myself in Devon, Pennsylvania for an equitation classic held during Junior Hunter Finals; Crete, Illinois and Santa Fe, New Mexico for zone jumper championships; Lexington, Kentucky for the Green Hunter Incentive and International Hunter Derby Championships, as well as time in the USHJA office; St. Louis, Missouri for zone hunter championships; and Findlay, Ohio for the Emerging Athletes Program and Horsemanship Quiz Challenge Nationals. It’s safe to say spent quite a bit of time in airports and at horse shows in 2019.

Photography was also huge theme this year. With warmer weather and shedding ponies, May held the first few client sessions of 2019 for Terisé M. Cole Photography and they didn’t stop until the fuzzies started coming back in late October. I never would have though it would be a record year for my little side-hustle.

Outside all things equine related, my boyfriend and I moved into a cute little duplex in June for the next chapter of our adventure. After years in a dingy, post-college apartment, moving into a place we loved the second we set foot inside was refreshing and feels so much more like home.

The other big news in 2019 came in July. I began the month with a boyfriend but ended it with a fiancé. Everything else really pales to promising your partner forever over Thai noodles and a movie and getting to don a sparkly family heirloom. Let the wedding planning begin!

For the first time in a while, I’m not super excited for another January 1. This year was full of memories and much-needed life upgrades, so I’m a little sad to put it in the past. That said, because 2019 was so amazing, I can’t wait to see what 2020 has in store.

– TC

Thanksgiving serves as a reminder to be gracious for what we have. For this ammy, the past two years have held events around this time that have my heart feeling especially thankful for what is still here.

There’s no denying that those of us who own or lease horses can call ourselves lucky. But with that responsibility comes the heartbreak of when things go awry. If you could rewind to November 2017, you’d find me spending most of it frantically calling the vet, crossing my fingers, and clutching the tissue in my pocket for when I would inevitably burst into tears at the unknown of Ax’s future. Few things break your holiday spirit like your vet uttering, “I think he fractured his scapula; I’m referring you to the nearest hospital,” as your horse stands on three legs behind her, shivering from whatever pain is wracking his body.

Almost a year later, October of 2018 brought the loss of an important four-legged member of our family. In what was a whirlwind of a week, my mom’s horse, Blue, went from being a seemingly healthy mare, to a diagnosis of rapid liver failure. The prognosis? “Could be a week. Could be a year.” While what my mom did for Blue was the best for her well-being, it stings just the same—we all know that these days come when we bring any animal into our lives, but it doesn’t make the decisions any easier.

Now two years later, I am still grateful for every day I get to put my foot in the stirrup and swing onto Ax’s back. Whenever anyone asks how he is doing, my response is an immediate “I am just so thankful to still be able to ride him—to have him here.” As for Blue, she rests at my childhood home. Ax now wears some of her blankets, and every now and then, I catch him doing something out of his ordinary but that was very much in hers.

It is easy to forget how special these animals are, even those we love endlessly. For me, it wasn’t a top ribbon or victory gallop that reminded me how lucky I am, it was realizing how close I could be—and almost was—to losing my horse of a lifetime. For that, and for his continued snuggles and demanding of cookies, I am forever thankful.

-TC

In classic adult amateur fashion, I often find myself riding after working an 8:30-5; scheduling farrier appointments on lunch breaks; and enjoying a glass of rosé while rewatching the week’s livestream.

I started riding when I was 10, quickly ditching dance and competitive swimming for ponies. For most of my first year in the saddle, I was thoroughly terrified to do anything faster than trot and was a complete brat to my instructors—I distinctly remember having to take my weekly lesson with a different instructor and rolling my eyes at my mom as I trotted by, attempting to post and steer at the same time.

A few years later (and probably much too early), I got my first horse. My mom had a Thoroughbred when she was a teenager and my pony-loving soul brought her back to the sport, so it was no surprise when Smithfields Irish Angel, a then-7-year-old Morgan mare, became part of the family in 2005. While my mom worked out the kinks that came with a green mare that was dubbed “flashy, yet not enough for the saddle seat ring,” my novice riding was reserved for the lesson horses for a few more years. After many more lessons and a solid foundation in dressage for both of us, Angel and I were looking less green, so I took the reins and Miss Blue View, a Thoroughbred mare, was welcomed as my mom’s new mount.

From there, Angel and I went on to top more than a few hunt seat equitation and pleasure classes on the local circuits, 4-H, my high school’s equestrian team, state fairs, and whatever weekend show we found ourselves at—bless my parents for trailering us around summer after summer. Though we only dabbled in the rated Morgan circuit a handful of times—her USEF record is less than a page—she gave me the show experience of a lifetime. Outside the show ring, Angel got me through four years of private, college-prep high school; would jump just about anything I pointed her at; absolutely hated if she was the only horse in the barn; and would stand on the crossties for hours if it meant she was being groomed. I can thank that pony for filling my childhood walls with ribbons and my bookcase with more trophies and silver platters than actual books, but more importantly, she was the first horse that, very clichéd, had my heart.

Because I didn’t have much of a junior career, becoming an amateur by USEF’s ruling wasn’t much of an upset. When it came time to leave for college, Angel stayed behind as I moved a state south, giving my mom another horse to ride and leaving me feeling horse-less. Riding wasn’t about to leave my life though, so I joined my college’s IHSA team and was introduced a bit more to the traditional hunter/jumper world that I had only a peek of during my days in IEA.

The summer after my Sophomore year, I had secured a job as a camp counselor at a barn on Martha’s Vineyard when a lease opportunity opened up at my barn. I had no plans on leasing or buying another horse—let alone as I was about to go live on an island for the summer—but Southern Axcent, an Oldenburg gelding with a resume in the 3’ adult divisions and a bit of stopping problem, was suddenly joining me for the ferry ride. That summer was a game changer and it quickly became apparent that there was no way I could send him back to be sold. Ax became officially mine in August 2013, and shortly after, Breeches and Boat Shoes was born so that my family could stay up to date on our happenings.

I wrapped up my college career in 2015 with a Bachelor of Science in Equine Studies paired with a minor in Business and four years in IHSA, three of them as my team’s captain. In that time, Ax traveled back and forth to school with me and to the island twice more for summer escapades, participated in his first and last show as an IHSA horse, taught me how to sit a solid buck, and helped me get over my jumping fears despite his tendency to throw in a nasty stop.

Post college life began with a job at a local equine magazine and a desire to get back in the show ring. Ax and I spent the season in the 2’3”/2’6” Modified (mortified) Adults with plenty of highs—finishing fourth in the medal final and holding back tears mid-victory gallop—to go with the lows—breaking my nose right before the hunter classic, which I rode in with a lovely black eye. The ribbons from 2016’s finals still hang behind my desk as a reminder of how lucky we were.

Unbeknownst to me, that would be our last full season in the show ring—for now, at least. At the first show of the following year, right as I was about to head into the ring, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I didn’t want to be there. Instead, Ax and I spent the spring and summer doing hunter paces and enjoying the pressure-free environment of not prepping for shows. That November he came up lame and a trip to the local equine hospital left even their best vets puzzled—thus being dubbed the Mystery Lameness of 2017.

Now, two years later, Ax and I still haven’t seen the show ring since and spend our days schooling at home, finally finished with rehabbing from the lameness that threw us for a loop but still battling the arthritis that followed. I got a new job in early 2019 at your favorite hunter/jumper association, which came with a decent travel schedule that I love but also takes away some of my riding time in the busy summer months. Add the side hustle that is Terisé M. Cole Photography to the equation, plus a fiancé, and my barn time is limited to three or four days a week.

In classic adult amateur fashion, I often find myself riding after working an 8:30-5, usually as the sun is setting or it is already dark; scheduling farrier appointments on lunch breaks; and enjoying a glass of rosé while rewatching the week’s livestream. According to USEF, I’ve been an amateur for years, so by now, I guess I’ve taken on the persona.

– TC

Formerly the author of Breeches and Boat Shoes, a blog I created in college as a way to keep my family updated on the goings on with my then-new horse, blogging has been in my life since 2013. As the years have gone on, much has changed since the founding of B&BS and the late college nights that kept it alive. Now a full-time professional in the communications sector of the equine industry and a fully-fledged adult amateur in the saddle, my blog and I are moving onward and upwards.

I introduce you to The Working Amateur, a more mature but equally equestrian space to bring my creativity and thoughts to the internet. Don’t worry—Ax and I are still here, just with a little more life experience and a lot more wine. Stay tuned for a splash of fresh material, some of the same content you (and I) know and love, and plenty of Ax’s cute face.

-TC