On December 30, 2025, I went to the barn for my first lesson.
I thought I had signed up for riding lessons, but my trainer, Erin, said I needed to lay some groundwork before we got to riding.
Literally.
For the next 9 lessons, I did groundwork, learning to understand and communicate with horses …on the ground.
It wasn’t until the 10th lesson that I “finally” got to ride a horse named Big Pony.
Except it didn’t feel like a "finally" kind of thing because, along the way, I fell in love with groundwork.
Let’s rewind…
During my first two lessons, I did groundwork with a horse named Rumi. He had a dysregulated nervous system.
Rumi was tense, wanted to do exactly what you asked, and lived deep inside his own mind. That was something I very much related to at the time. (I’m happy to report that, thanks to our trainer Erin, both Rumi and I are doing a lot better haha).
Then January 6, 2026 happened.
I got to the barn about 15 minutes before my lesson so I could just talk to Rumi in his stall before our lesson began.
As I was standing there, the horse in the stall next to Rumi poked his head out, looked at me, and didn’t stop looking.
I wasn’t sure who he was or whether he had an owner, so I hesitated to say hi, but he kept staring at me. Eventually I walked over to say hi to this giant chestnut horse, looking at me like he knew me.
When I went over, he stuck his nose out and let me pet him.
Then something happened that no horse had ever done before with me. Within the first five minutes of meeting, he put his head on my shoulder, relaxed, and basically fell asleep while I was petting him.
Erin arrived for our lesson, walked up, and saw Geno and me together. I’ll never forget what she said: “I was going to have you work with Rumi again, but it looks like Geno chose you.”
I never forgot that remark because part of me was disappointed; I really liked working with Rumi and wanted to work with him again.
Erin pulled Geno out of his stall and told me we’d work on getting him to step up onto the pedestal, something he had never done before. Another trainer had tried to get him up but hadn’t been successful, so this would be a challenge.
It took the better part of an hour, but Geno finally put both of his front legs up, and I was so, so, so proud of him. Like a mom seeing her son accomplish something hard for the first time.
I wrote in my journal that day, “I hope I get to work with him again. We connected so nicely. I wish he was my horse <3.”
The next lesson, it only took me 8 minutes to get Geno up on the pedestal; the lesson after that, only 2 minutes.
Erin told me, “We had another student work with Geno on the pedestal, and he wouldn’t go up for her,” and part of me was really happy.
Of course I wanted the best for Geno, but I secretly liked that we had this special little bond. Or so I thought; later, Erin told me she kinda got the feeling it made me happy, hahah.
Geno and I worked together a couple more times before I told Erin, “I want to buy a horse for my 40th birthday. I’ll be in North Carolina all of February, but when I get back to Florida I want to start seriously looking.”
While I was in NC, Erin started texting me links to horses for sale that she thought would be a good fit. She sent me one that I didn’t think was super cute, but I said: “If we find one with Geno’s personality, I don’t care if he’s lime green.”
After that, Erin stopped sending me horses to look at, and I figured it was because she was waiting for me to get back to Florida so we could continue our search.
March 2nd was my first lesson back at the barn with Erin, and I got to work with Geno again, and I just couldn’t believe how much I had missed him while I was gone.
I was back at the barn the next day for another lesson, and Erin said, “Elizabeth is going to sell Geno,” and my heart plummeted.
I asked who she was selling him to, and Erin said, “To you, if you want him.” That was the easiest, fastest yes of my life. I signed the contract that afternoon.
I wired the money, and by Friday I was officially a horse owner.
Before I wired the money, Erin said, “As your trainer, I need to tell you, I don’t think Geno is necessarily the right horse for you. We don’t know when or if he’ll ever be safe for you to ride and—”
I cut her off and said I didn’t care if I ever rode him. There were other horses to ride, but there was only one Geno.
I really can’t explain it, but even then I knew this horse and I would be so good for each other.
I barely knew anything about horses at that point.
I didn’t know Geno was a warmblood. I didn’t know what a warmblood was.
I didn’t know that horses were trained to jump or that Geno had spent 20 years doing that. I had no idea what “grand prix” level meant. I had never heard the word “Zangersheide” in my life, and no one told me Geno was a former world champion, bred from elite, highly sought-after jumping bloodlines.
I just knew that when he nuzzled me, I felt completely at ease.
Geno regulated my nervous system in a way that years of therapy never did, and I kinda suspected I regulated his nervous system too.
After becoming a first-time horse mom, my lessons started feeling so much more important.
I wasn’t just doing this as a hobby anymore; I was responsible for this horse’s quality of life, and he deserved someone who would step up.
… But boy, did I have a lot to learn. Remember, I didn’t even know what a warmblood was.
All I could really tell you was that horses have two ears, a tail, and a big nose.
Geno and I just crossed the six-month mark of him becoming my horse, and I’ve learned a lot, but I still have a lifetime of knowledge to gain.
Surprisingly, what I’ve learned so far has way less to do with “this is how you ride a horse” and way more with leadership, boundaries, nervous system regulation, and the joy of taking risks when you spend most of your life sitting safely behind a desk.
More about that coming soon.