By Allison Stitzinger
In the beginning, I wasn’t sure I’d even like riding other horses.
It was the fall of 2021, and Dino, my once-in-a-lifetime Wonder Pony, the partner that no other horse will ever come close to, had been diagnosed with a hind suspensory injury at the age of 23. It effectively ended his competitive career and launched us both headfirst into his retirement. I was, for the first time in 11 years, without a horse to ride.
As I mourned the end of an era and the true beginning of Dino’s golden years, I thought about what my riding life would look like from here on out. Dino had essentially been the only horse I’d ridden for over a decade, and we had melded into one creature the way horses and their chosen humans tend to do. Imagining riding without him was a foreign, impossible-to-navigate landscape.
I wondered if I would even want to keep riding now that he was out of commission, or if sitting on other horses would only prick at my grief and remind me painfully of glory days past. I wondered how on earth I could afford to purchase and board a second horse in order to keep riding, if that was even what I wanted. I wondered if I would simply hang up my boots for good, my riding life beginning and ending in the beautiful story of one great love. I wondered if I was a horse person—or a Dino person.
Immediately after word of Dino’s injury and subsequent rehab and retirement got around, I was flooded with offers of horses to ride from nearly every member of my barn family. In my heart, there was still a scrappy, hungry young rider with big dreams and empty pockets who was taught to never, ever turn down an offer to ride. So, I graciously accepted the astounding generosity of my barn mates.
Each time I swung a leg over and settled softly into a different saddle, a part of me sparked to life through the cloud of grief of my own horse’s retirement. With each ride, the wonderful truth came shining through loud and clear: I loved horses, and I loved riding. The end of Dino’s career didn’t mean the end of mine.
In the months following Dino’s injury, I sat on anything that was offered to me that wouldn’t purposefully try to kill me. I rode thoroughbreds, warmbloods, ponies, draft horses, quarter horses, and horses whose breeding I couldn’t even begin to guess at. I sorted in my mind the types and personalities I enjoyed, and those I didn’t.
At this stage of the game, I was crunching the numbers and saving every penny with the goal of buying a second horse, and each horse I had the opportunity to ride was another data point to use in the search for my next partner. My barn manager had generously offered to hold a spot in the barn for another horse for me, and in my mind, buying a young horse was the next logical step in the progression of my riding career. I scoured online ads and made spreadsheets and briefly considered buying a very cute buckskin Welsh pony sight-unseen from the other side of the country to train and resell. I inquired about leases, I reached out to local trainers, I talked to friends, and I did more math, stubbornly determined to get a second horse of my own one way or another.
In the end, the cold, hard reality of my bank account quickly crushed that dream. While I could stretch and save to buy and board a second horse, it would be tight, and doing so would all but eliminate my ability to put anything in my savings account. If I were to encounter any kind of big, expensive emergency, horse-related or otherwise, I’d be in serious financial trouble. Disappointed and a little defeated, I put the idea of a second horse aside for another day.
But as time passed, the offers of horses to ride kept coming. A situation that began as a loving, temporary response to my heartbreak turned into a consistent supply of regular rides filling up nearly every day of the week. On weekends, I routinely had two or three horses to ride each day, and as Dino came back into light work, I found myself needing to carefully schedule my weeknight barn time to make sure he and all of the other horses on my list got ridden enough times each week.
Before long, friends at my home barn recommended me to friends at other barns in need of a rider, and I found myself traveling to ride their horses, too. Many days, I found myself in the enviable situation of having too many horses to ride, which still absolutely astounds me. My inner twelve-year-old cannot believe that her life has blossomed into one in which there is an overabundance of horses to ride.
I did think that at this point in my life, staring down the barrel at my 40th birthday, I’d have gotten past the catch riding phase. I’m no longer in my teens or 20s without a horse of my own on a minuscule budget, fueled by that desperate inner fire that compelled me to throw a leg over anything anyone would let me.
I thought by now I’d be the one with a lovely horse to offer a driven young person. But in so many ways, I’m surprised to have found myself here again—accepting each horse offered like a precious gift and a golden opportunity to learn and grow. It turns out I’m still just a girl who desperately, innately, intensely loves horses and riding.
I’ve been catch riding for four years now, and it has been, in a way, the maturing of that unquenchable love for the horse that first ignited in me when I was young.
I love sitting on a new horse for the first time, asking gentle questions to see what responses they’ll offer. I love the finesse of the conversation with each horse, learning each other’s language and finding a way to communicate. I love working to make each horse more relaxed, more beautiful, and more balanced with each ride. I love how the things that Dino taught me apply to all horses, and how each individual has even more to teach me. I love the challenge of finding the best training approach for each horse, and the joy of a breakthrough in understanding.
Over the past four years, I’ve ridden dressage horses and eventers, western trail horses and hunters, and pleasure riding horses—and I’ve loved them all. Each one is full of magic, and each one has given me something unique. Every horse I ride becomes mine in a way, and my heart for all horses has grown right along with my skill set as a rider.
I still hold onto the hope that a young horse of my own is in my future. After all, what better way to honor the many horses I’ve catch ridden over the years than to use what they’ve taught me to shape my next long-term equine partner? In my mind, there is no more fitting application of the skills and experience these horses have given me.
That goal may still be a long way off, but until the next season in my riding life comes along, I will learn and dream and treasure every ride, gratefully relishing the joy of life as a catch rider.
Allison Stitzinger is an adult amateur rider based in Bucks County, Pennsylvania who thankfully never got too tall to ride ponies. Over the 30 years she’s spent in the saddle, she’s tried everything from hunters to eventing to barrel racing to side saddle to fox hunting, though she supposes her current favorite discipline is dressage. She still can’t believe that she gets to ride horses every day, and gets paid to talk about them all day long at her job as an equine veterinary receptionist.
