Tarnished

He was the most handsome horse I'd ever seen, and when he locked eyes with me for the first time, I saw his magic. This gelding was bred for greatness and at the prime age of seven, he was just getting started in his career.

His coat looked like tarnished silver - not dapple grey, but a brownish grey that is distinct in any arena. He stood with a sort of royal stature, showcasing his European descent through his chiseled muscle and carefully curated conformation that had been meticulously maintained for generations. His eyes were big and curious, his body and heart capable of soaring over Grand Prix fences with ease.

I fell in love with Tarnished as a barn onlooker long before I ever imagined I'd be awarded the opportunity to ride him. At the time, I was leading the lesson program while managing college full-time. I had started training for the upcoming Chicago Olympic Triathlon and as my fitness progressed, so did my abilities in the saddle.

Tarnished was the nicest horse I've ever sat on, and his heart of gold gave me the confidence to ride out even his scariest bucking bronco fits inside the cold indoor during the winter months. Tarnished's owner was a full-time working career woman who I looked up to for her poise and humility, especially for someone who had been so lucky in life. Humility is a rare gem in this sport.

A jumper by nature with ambitions (and all the capability) to one day reach the Grand Prix arena, Tarnished had a large canter like a war horse riding into battle. Uphill with a powerhouse of a hind end, Tarnished had all the hops and all the moves. His swagger was next to none.

He was stabled across the boarder-only grooming stalls, which meant I got to talk to him and give him affection while tacking up and cooling out other client horse rides I had been picking up. We had a routine of pets in his stall, kisses, and occasional cookies and carrots. He was a cuddle and a lover, and relished in the affection. He was never mine, but up until that point in my life I had only ever had the opportunity to love other people's horses.

I'll never forget the day I arrived at the barn only to learn that Tarnished had been turned out (as he rarely was) in a pasture when he threw a buck, landed wrong, and shattered one of his hind limbs.

I arrived after he was already gone, and so close to my first lesson that I didn't even have time to properly cry.

I'll never ride another horse like Tarnished, but I will always keep him in my heart as the first opportunity I had to sit on a Grand Prix jumper prospect.

One day when I jump my first Grand Prix course, I will dedicate it to the horse that helped me believe.