Informed rider coaching

Want to know what rider progress REALLY looks like?

It’s not the 67.95%.
It’s not the win.
It’s not the championship placing.

It’s “things went wrong… and I knew how to deal with it.”

And that is exactly what I’m seeing from my clients at the minute.
Yes, there are rosettes. Wins. Placings. Clear rounds. BD scores. Championships.

And I am ridiculously proud of every single one of them!

But the bit that really gets me in the coaching feels? The messages afterwards.

“Warm up was a nightmare… but we pulled it back together.”

“He was a bit spicy, but I didn’t feel stupidly nervous.”

“I was going to do it for the experience, nothing more.”

“Lots to take away and work on… but a huge amount of difference.”

That’s the stuff.

Because a rosette tells you what happened on one day. Those messages tell me what has changed underneath it.
They tell me these riders can feel things starting to unravel without deciding the whole day is ruined. That they can deal with the unexpected.
Make decisions. Regroup. Work out what happened and what to do next. Without me there!

More importantly, they’re actually getting out there and doing the things they wanted to do with their horses.

This is EXACTLY why I created Informed Equestrians.

I never wanted to create riders who became more dependent on me. Quite the opposite.

I want riders who can think. Who understand their horse and themselves. Who have enough knowledge and practical tools in their back pocket that when the plan inevitably goes slightly t**s up, they don’t fall apart with it.

Because riding isn’t performed in a laboratory.
Warm-ups will be chaos sometimes.
Your horse might suddenly decide moving cars are terrifying.

There will be flapping paper, busy arenas, nerves, excitement and approximately 400 things you hadn’t planned for.

You can’t control all of that.

But you can become much better equipped to deal with it.

Thats the informed equestrians mantra: Engage. Empower. Enable.

Engage with what is actually happening rather than blindly following instructions.

Empower yourself with the knowledge, skills and support to make better decisions.

Enable yourself to go out and actually use it.

And right now, I’m watching that happen everywhere within the team.

Riders competing again after long breaks.
Riders dealing with spicy horses without their own nerves taking over.
Riders heading to championships with zero expectations and coming home with placings and brilliant memories.
Riders having imperfect tests and still coming away buzzing because they know how far they’ve come.

That’s success.

Not because I made it happen.

Because they did.

That is the rider I want to help you become too.
Not somebody who never has problems. Somebody who knows what to do when they happen.

So if you’re looking through these screenshots thinking…

God, I’d love to feel like that with my horse.

Come and join us.

Message me ENGAGE and I’ll show you how Informed Equestrians can help change the way you think, feel and ride — so you can become the rider who knows what to do when it matters.

Katie

There’s one question I find myself asking clients more and more these days….

Does it actually bring you joy?

If it does… brilliant.

Go all in.

If it doesn’t…

Why are you doing it?

I have this conversation surprisingly often.
A rider will tell me they want to start competing.

“Great,” I’ll say. “Why?”

And sometimes the answer is exactly what you’d hope.

“Because I’ve always wanted to.”

“I love the buzz.”

“I’d love to see what we’re capable of.”

Perfect. Let’s make it happen.

But every now and then, the answer is a little different.

“I feel like I should.”
“Everyone else at the yard competes.”
“I thought that’s what you’d expect me to do.”

That always makes me stop.
Because I genuinely couldn’t care less whether you compete.

If that’s your goal, I’ll help you get there.

If your dream is to hack around the countryside with a happy horse, I’ll help you do that too.

If all you want is to ride without feeling anxious every time you put your foot in the stirrup…

That’s just as worthwhile.

The point is that it has to be your goal.

Not mine.
Not social media’s.
Not the rider on the next yard’s.

Yours.

It reminds me of something outside the horse world. Most of you know I’m slightly addicted to horsepower… both the four-legged and four-wheeled variety.

My partner is every bit as much of a petrolhead as I am a horse nerd. The funny thing is that people often look at our cars and assume they’re about status. That we’re trying to impress people. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

We bought the cars we wanted because they make us smile. I deliberately bought the thirsty petrol V6 instead of the sensible diesel.

Financially? Probably not the cleverest decision.
But, every single time I press that start button and hear that engine growl into life, I grin. That little smile is worth something to me.

If that doesn’t make sense to you, that’s absolutely fine. You’d probably choose the economical diesel. And you’d be right.

For you.

It’s exactly the same in the horse world.

Want the expensive boots?

Buy them.

Train with the big-name coach?

Go for it.

Compete every weekend?

Crack on.

But only if those things genuinely bring you joy.

Not because someone else told you that’s what you should do.

There’s far too much peacocking in the horse world. Too much comparison. Too much chasing what everyone else is doing.

Life becomes a whole lot simpler when you stop asking,

“What should I be doing?”

…and start asking,

“What would actually make me excited to tack up today?”

That’s one of the biggest reasons I created Informed Equestrians.

It isn’t a place where everyone is expected to chase the same goals.

It’s a community of riders who support each other in finding their own path.

Some members are chasing personal bests.

Some are rebuilding confidence.

Some are aiming for championships.

Some just want happier hacks and a better relationship with their horse.

Every single one of those goals is equally valid.

Because success isn’t defined by a rosette.

It’s defined by whether your horse is adding to your life rather than becoming another source of pressure.

So here’s my challenge for you this week.

Before you book that competition…

Buy that gadget…

Compare yourself to the latest social media post…

Just ask yourself one question.

Does it actually bring me joy?

If the answer is yes…

Go and enjoy every second of it.

If the answer is no…

Maybe it’s time to stop chasing somebody else’s version of success and start building your own.

That’s exactly what we do inside Informed Equestrians.

Not by telling you what your goals should be.

But by giving you the knowledge, confidence and support to pursue the goals that genuinely matter to you.

Whether that’s your first dressage test…

Jumping bigger tracks…

Building your confidence…

Understanding your horse better…

Or simply enjoying every ride a little more.

If you’re looking for a community that values progress over pressure, knowledge over noise, and joy over expectation, I think you’ll fit right in.

I’d love to welcome you inside. Drop the word ENGAGE below.

Katie

Sometimes the more “correct” your position becomes, the less useful it is to the horse underneath you….

That’s exactly what was happening with one of my clients recently.

We were working on her position and the contact when she asked:

“Where should I actually have my hands?”

My answer?

“Wherever your horse needs them.”

Which, admittedly, sounds like one of those spectacularly unhelpful coach answers.

So I explained.

She’d previously been told to carry her hands higher and closer together, which, classically speaking, wasn’t wrong. Ultimately, I do want her hands carried as a balanced pair in a relatively neutral position.

That’s the goal.

But every time she tried to put them there right now, the rest of her position started to unravel.

Her upper body became more rigid.

Her arms became less able to follow.

And most importantly, the horse wasn’t going any better for it.

So what exactly were we achieving?

A more textbook-looking pair of hands at the expense of everything else?

No thanks.

I likened it to a downhill skier. A skier wants to be in their tuck. It’s efficient, aerodynamic and balanced.

But watch them actually ski….They move.

An arm comes out. Their body shifts. They make adjustments to deal with a turn, a bump or a change in balance.

They don’t stubbornly stay in perfect tuck while disappearing sideways into a snowdrift because that’s where their arms are supposed to be.

They adjust. Then they come back towards neutral.

Riding is the same.

There’s a difference between an end goal and an absolute rule. Correct is the destination. It isn’t always where you start.

And this is why I think you have to know the rules to break the rules.

When we first learn to ride, we’re given rules:

Heels down.
Hands still.
Sit up.
Kick means go, pull means stop
Don’t pull on the inside rein too much

Useful? Absolutely.

They give us a framework for something incredibly complicated, eventually though, simply knowing the rule isn’t enough.

You need to understand the principle behind it.

Knowing the rule tells me where I ultimately want this rider’s hands.

Understanding the principle tells me why.

Experience tells me when forcing them there today is actually taking us further away from the goal. Because you can’t intelligently break a rule you don’t understand.

You’re just winging it - which isn’t a strategy.

It’s also why I’m wary of absolutes in riding.

“Never do this.”
“Always do that.”
“Your hands must be here.”

Real horses don’t read textbooks.

Different bodies. Different training histories. Different strengths and weaknesses. Add a different rider and the whole equation changes again.

Good training has principles.

Applying them requires judgement.

I don’t want riders collecting 437 rules and panicking when the horse doesn’t follow the instruction manual.

I want you thinking:

What am I trying to achieve?

What is happening underneath me?

Is what I’m doing helping?

If not, what can I change?

Sometimes you need to come out of the tuck to stay on your skis.

That’s exactly the kind of thinking we develop inside Informed Equestrians.

Each week we unpack the why behind the riding in our live masterclasses, with practical ride plans and coaching frameworks you can actually take into the arena.

You’ve also got the coaching library to dip into when you’re stuck and the team chat for those inevitable:

“Right… what the hell do I do with this then? moments.

It’s your virtual yard in your pocket — proper coaching, evidence-based discussion and riders who want to understand what they’re doing, not just collect more instructions.

If that sounds like the rider you want to become, comment ENGAGE and I’ll send you the membership details.

Katie

Escaped horses. A loose stallion. A banging judges' box = Perfect training conditions.

Last night I went to school Abbie after the competition had finished at my yard. The dust had barely settled and I headed into the jump arena to school. I do this often. I find it helps keep things interesting.

Right beside the jump arena are the turnout fields, where horses were being actively turned out. Along the bottom fence, two 4-year-olds had escaped their field and were merrily grazing on the hedges and shrubs in the forbidden zone. Along the left side, more turnout paddocks. The judges' box was being tidied up, banging away. And in the arena next door, the stallion was being loose schooled and having the time of his life.

For most people, all of this would be a big no-no for getting on and schooling your horse. For me, it was a challenge accepted moment.

Because I know I need to train in busy environments. My horse needs to get used to non-anaemic surroundings. If I want to go competing, head to championships, or just be out and about, my horse needs to get used to those busy environments. They need to become part of the norm. I need to know how to ride her when she gets tense, worried, or overstimulated, so I know how to bring her back if she's triggered.

Now, I'm not saying go out and purposely scare or overstimulate your horse. Far from it. My point is that you need to train appropriately. Do your homework at home, so all of this becomes part of the vocabulary.

You can't take your horse away from home and expect them to behave in an environment they haven't been prepared for.

If you're competing on grass, make sure you've ridden in a grass field or arena before. If you're competing indoors, make sure you've done some indoor training. If you're heading to a busy venue, get your horse used to spectators moving, walking, and making noise.

Get used to riding your horse when they're unsure, so you learn how to bring them back and partner them effectively.

We have a system for this inside informed equestrians called: Person, Task, Environment.

If you want to know more and help build a training plan that gets your horse ready for busy, real-world environments, drop the word ENGAGE below and I'll show you how.

Katie

ENGAGE-EMPOWER-ENABLE

My saddle fitter pointed something out about my horse the other week that I’d never really noticed.

I’d popped the saddle on Abbie, realised I’d grabbed the wrong girth and legged it back to the tack room.

The saddle fitter held her while I disappeared.
When I came back, she was laughing.

“She’s like a puppy. She watches your every move.”

Apparently, the entire time I’d been gone, Abbie had been watching exactly where I went and waiting for me to come back.

“Oh really?” I laughed. Bless her. That’s quite cute.

But I’ve thought about that little interaction quite a lot since.

Because we all want our horses to like us, don’t we?

We might dress it up as wanting a “partnership” or a “connection”, but ultimately I think most of us would be slightly devastated to discover our horse thought we were a bit of a dick.

And Abbie is NOT an overly affectionate horse.
She’s an independent lady.
The running joke is that she’s basically me in horse form.
Small circle. Keeps herself to herself. Very definite opinions.

If she likes you, brilliant.

If she doesn’t, she’s never nasty. You’ll simply receive the equine equivalent of a polite but incredibly frosty email.

There are no hours of cuddles.
She doesn’t need to be attached to me at the hip.
But there is this quiet understanding between us.

I’ve always called her my warhorse.

Because genuinely, I think if I pointed her towards battle and said, “Come on then Abs,” she’d probably sigh at my latest terrible idea and gallop in anyway.

I felt that in her the first time I sat on her ten years ago.
It’s why I brought her home.

And over those ten years we’ve built something.

Not through making her “love” me.

Not through treats.

Not through endlessly trying to make every interaction positive.

Through thousands and thousands of small interactions.

Being consistent.

Being fair.

Listening when she tells me something.

Sometimes saying, “I hear you, but we still need to do this.”

Learning what she needs from me.

And giving her the opportunity to learn what I mean when I ask something of her.

That’s partnership.

And actually, when I think about it, I’ve done this with horses throughout my life.

My previous mare, Star, came from my coach.

One day my coach hopped on her during a lesson.

And almost immediately Star went tense.

The best way I can describe her entire demeanour was:

“YOU’RE NOT MY MUM.”

She knew this person.
This person had ridden her before.
But apparently Star had decided that particular employment contract had been terminated.

I got back on.

She relaxed.

And we carried on.

It’s funny looking back at those stories, because they explain quite a lot about the way I coach now.

I don’t coach a horse. And I don’t coach a rider in isolation.

I coach the partnership between them.

That’s why I’m not interested in making you dependent on me.

And it’s why I don’t want to become the person who has to get on your horse every time something goes wrong.

I want YOU to become better at understanding them.

I want YOU to learn how to communicate more clearly.

I want YOU to become the person your horse can rely on.

A client said to me recently that her horse feels more relaxed and happier now — and that she feels far more capable riding him herself.

One of the biggest changes?

She’s riding him more consistently rather than handing him over to someone else whenever things become difficult.

And I said:

“Yeah. Because you’re building a relationship.”

That takes time.

Consistency.

Patience.

A fair few mistakes. And thousands of completely unremarkable Tuesday evenings at the yard when nobody is watching.

But eventually those interactions add up.

And one day your saddle fitter holds your horse while you disappear to grab a girth…

…and points out that your fiercely independent little mare hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you left.

That, for me, is worth far more than having a horse who simply does as they’re told.

If you want to learn how to build that kind of partnership with your own horse — where you understand each other better and you become the person they can rely on — that’s exactly what we work on inside Informed Equestrians.

Drop ENGAGE below and I’ll tell you more.

Katie

There are some days you ride because your horse needs it.

And then there are days you ride because you need it.

Today was one of those days.

The last few weeks have been… hard.

The sort of hard that leaves you mentally exhausted.

The sort of hard where all you want to do is go home, crawl into bed and switch off.

I could quite easily have fed Abbie, given her a cuddle and headed home.

Instead…

I tacked her up.

Not because I had to ride.

Because I needed to ride.

The moment I swung my leg over the saddle…

Everything else became a little quieter.

For a while, it was just me.

My rockstar of a mare.

And whatever we chose to do.

The emails could wait.

The to-do list could wait.

Life could wait.

Because horses have this incredible way of bringing you back to the present.

They don’t care what happened at work today.

They don’t care about your last competition.

They don’t care what someone said that upset you.

They simply ask…

“Can you be here with me?”

And if you’re not…

They know.

If you’re tense…

They feel it.

If you’re clear…

They respond.

That’s the power of horses.

Not because they magically fix our problems.

They don’t.

But because they remind us that, underneath all the noise, the stress and the exhaustion…

There’s still a quiet strength within us.

Sometimes we just need a horse to help us find it again.

I think that’s why, no matter what’s happening in life, I always leave the yard feeling a little lighter than when I arrived.

So maybe Churchill was onto something after all.

There’s something about the outside of a horse that’s incredibly good for the inside of us.

If horses are your place to reset too, I’d love to know.

What is it about being with your horse that brings you back to yourself? ❤️

And if you’re looking for more conversations like this—where we talk about the horse, the rider and everything in between—you’ll always find a seat waiting for you inside Informed Equestrians.

Katie

Today I refused to get on a client’s horse.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because it would have been the least helpful thing I could have done.

The rider was struggling with the canter transition.

One of those classic situations where the issue wasn’t ability.

It was timing.

She’d ask.

Nothing.

Ask again.

Still nothing.

You could see the frustration building with every attempt.

So we changed the exercise. Broke it down. Made it simpler. Started rebuilding the pieces.

Then came the words I hear all too often…

“Will you just get on her and do it?”

“No.”

The look on her face suggested she’d expected a very different answer.

So I explained why.

Could I have got the transition?

Almost certainly.

I’ve ridden thousands of them. I know the timing. I know the feel.

But that wouldn’t have solved the real problem.

In fact, it probably would have made things worse.

Firstly, she’d already started doubting herself. Watching me hop on and make it look easy would only reinforce the story that I can do it… but she can’t.

Secondly…

I don’t need the practice.

She does.

My job isn’t to prove I can ride.

My job is to help someone else become a better rider.

That means giving them the opportunity to discover the feel for themselves.

To make mistakes.

To adjust.

To try again.

Because that’s where learning lives.

As coaches, it’s tempting to reach for the cheat code.

Jump on.

Fix the problem.

Everyone feels better for five minutes.

But has the rider actually learned anything?

Sometimes, yes, I’ll have a quick sit. There are occasions where it genuinely gives valuable information or helps the horse understand something.

But that’s never my first option.

My first responsibility is to the partnership standing in front of me.

To give the rider the tools, the understanding and the confidence to solve the problem themselves.

Because the goal has never been for my clients to need me forever.

The goal is for them to become the rider their horse needs.

If that’s the kind of coaching you’ve been looking for—where understanding comes before shortcuts—you’d fit right in inside the Informed Equestrians community. We’d love to welcome you.

Katie

Some weeks make this much harder to remember than others.

It is very easy to give too much energy to the things we cannot control:

Other people’s opinions.
Things that have already happened.
Plans that have gone wrong.
Conversations we keep replaying long after they are over.

Meanwhile, the only part we truly own is how we choose to respond. That does not mean pretending everything is fine.

It means finding perspective, taking what is useful, letting go of what is not, and choosing not to let one difficult moment define the whole picture.

Last night, the Informed Equestrians group reminded me of that.

It had been a tough week for a lot of us. Motivation was low. Some people really did not feel like riding.

But they got on anyway.

Not because they suddenly felt inspired.

Because discipline got them there.

And afterwards, the group filled with through-the-ears photos.
That familiar view between two ears which fixes most things and makes you remember…

A good ride.
A quiet moment.
A little spark returning.

Sometimes that is all it takes to remember why we do this.

For most of us, horses are our hobby. They should be a place we go to enjoy ourselves, reconnect, learn and breathe.
They should not become another stick we use to beat ourselves with.

So when things are not going well, try to remember the feeling when they do.

The softening.
The rhythm.
The little breakthrough.
The quiet mooch around the block

The moment you finish riding and think, yes, that is why.

Hold onto that feeling when your mind starts wandering off in the wrong direction. And surround yourself with people who help bring you back when it does.

I am very grateful I have that around me.

And if you are looking for a supportive place to learn, reflect and keep moving forward, there is always room in Informed Equestrians.

Drop the word ENGAGE below to find out more about our awesome virtual yard.

Katie

I was making my lunch today.

Nothing exciting. Just a smoked ham salad.

As I was chopping tomatoes, spring onions, mozzarella and all the other salady bits, I caught myself holding the knife exactly the way chefs do. Fingers tucked in. Knuckles guiding the blade. Using the full length of the knife instead of that awkward stab-chop motion most people start with.

Years ago, I worked in hospitality and watched chefs prepare food at what looked like lightning speed.

When I first tried to copy them, I was hopeless. It felt awkward. Slow. Completely unnatural. But I stuck with it because I understood why they did it that way.

It was safer. More efficient. More consistent. Now I don’t even think about it. It’s simply how I chop food.

And it made me think about riding.

How many times have you heard someone say…

“I only did it the once.”
“I rode that movement really well… once.”
“My horse softened… once.”
“We did it in the lesson but could t get it again!”

Here’s the thing. If you can genuinely do something once, you’ve already proved it’s possible.

The real question is…

Do you know why it happened?

Because if you understand what created the result, you can recreate it. If you don’t, you’re left hoping it happens again. That’s the difference between luck and skill. And it’s one of the reasons I think we’ve become a little bit obsessed with confidence.

Everyone wants to feel more confident.

You see I’d much rather help you become more capable. Because capability comes from understanding…
Understanding gives you a process….
A process gives you consistency…And consistency is where confidence comes from.

You don’t have to force it. You don’t have to fake it. You don’t even have to wait until you “feel ready.” Because confidence isn’t the starting point. It’s the by-product of repeatedly doing something well because you understand how and why it works.

That’s what good coaching should give you. Not just the ability to ride something once. But the understanding to do it again tomorrow…

And next week…

And next month…

Because that’s where real progress lives.

If you’re ready to stop hoping for good rides and start understanding how to consistently create them, I’d love to welcome you into Informed Equestrians.

It’s your virtual yard in your pocket, packed with evidence-based coaching, honest support and the understanding you need to become the rider your horse deserves.

Drop me a message with with the word ENGAGE

Right I’m off to enjoy my salad.

Katie

Confidence is a dangerous thing… especially when it’s completely unsupported by understanding.

Somewhere, a medieval artist confidently told everyone, “Don’t worry lads, I’ve absolutely nailed this elephant.”

The horse world isn’t much different.

“I know how to ride on the bit.”

“I know how to engage the hindleg.”

“I know how to ride a half halt.”

Do you?

Or have you just drawn another elephant?

The problem isn’t getting it wrong.

The problem is being so certain you’re right that you never question it.

That’s where progress stops.

Curiosity will always beat certainty.

Stay curious
Katie