Triple Trouble: What Makes a Horse Next Level?
“How do you know when you have one of the great horses? It’s not when the trophies stack up, or when people stop you at shows to compliment their beauty. You know you have a next-level horse when…they cover for you instead of exposing you. When they steady your ride on the days you can’t steady yourself.”
In the horse world, there are countless ways people try to measure greatness. Some will tell you it’s about training; if your horse has been under the guidance of the best in the business, then you must have something special. Others will point to cashed checks and buckles stacked on the shelf as proof of a horse’s worth. Then some will point to an allure of beauty — a horse that looks like it stepped straight out of a movie scene, bold color and mane for days.
All of that can be impressive, but none define what truly makes a horse next level. For me, a horse’s greatness isn’t proven by what they can do when the circumstances are perfect. It’s proven by what they give you when you’re anything but.
A good horse can shine when the rider is strong, balanced, and focused, and when they’re well-conditioned and ready to perform. That’s when the horse can show the peak of what they’re capable of. But those moments, as thrilling as they are, don’t reveal the heart of a horse.
A great horse is the one that carries you when you don’t deserve to be carried. They’re the ones who read between the lines of your sloppy cues and try anyway. They’re the ones who keep you safe when your mind is elsewhere, when your body is weak, or when your emotions are overwhelming. They’re intuitive enough to know you’re not at your best, and instead of exposing that, they cover for you.
They change their body stance ever so slightly to keep you upright. They ease their pace so you don’t lose balance. They make subtle adjustments that you may never even notice until you look back on the ride and realize how much they gave you. That is the dividing line between good horses and truly great ones.
Photo by Mollie Himes
I obtained this understanding from my own mare, Hot Sauce. Five years old, and true to her name, she’s usually full of fire. She’s forward, spicy, and the kind of horse that lets you know she has opinions — she’s the type of mare people see and are immediately intimidated.
Her greatness, while obvious in her willingness to give her person 200%, showed itself more clearly in the most humbling of moments. This past weekend, I was battling one of the toughest stretches of illness I’ve ever faced. I had leptospirosis, a brutal infection that affected several of my organ systems. I was struggling with colitis, cellulitis in my arm, a urinary tract infection, and a flu-like fatigue that made me weaker than any other sickness I’ve ever contracted. My body was insanely weak, my energy was depleted, and my mind was foggy.
In that state, most people would have stayed home. And honestly, maybe I should have. But I had a competition lined up, and I chose to go. Part of me wanted distraction, something to take my mind off the relentless misery I felt in my body. Riding has always been my reset button, my therapy, and my escape. So despite how sick and drained I was, I saddled up Hot Sauce and entered the arena.
Photo by Tim Frank Photos
From the very first stride, I knew I was not myself. My legs were weak and barely offered support. My hands felt clumsy and heavy. My posture was extremely forward no matter how hard I tried to correct it. Every cue I gave was delayed, sloppy, or nonexistent. It was, without a doubt, one of the worst performances I had ever ridden in competition.
Anyone who has worked with a young horse knows how quickly they can mirror your weaknesses. They pick up on nerves, inconsistency, and imbalance. At five years old, Hot Sauce had every excuse to unravel under the weight of my poor riding. She could have ignored my cues, rushed through the patterns, or gotten frustrated with my lack of direction. And truthfully, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. Instead, Hot Sauce did something I hadn’t anticipated — she took care of me.
Photo by Genevieve Burnett Photography
She slowed her stride — not in a way that made the run look off, but just enough to keep me balanced. She softened through her movement ever so slightly when I began bouncing all over her back. She adjusted her turns, made them a little rounder, a little steadier, so my lack of strength wouldn’t pull me off. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable to anyone watching from the outside. But from the saddle, I could feel it — gentle, intentional adjustments she was making to keep me safe.
She carried me, not just physically, but emotionally. She glided through those patterns with a grace that was more than physical ability. It was an act of partnership, of awareness, of choosing to fill in the gaps where I fell short. When we finished, I wasn’t proud of my riding, but I was deeply proud of my horse. And in those ugly moments, I knew: this wasn’t just a talented mare. Hot Sauce had proven herself to be something far greater.
Photo by Tim Frank Photos
What she did wasn’t about training. It wasn’t something drilled into her through repetition or correction. You can’t train a horse to take care of you when you’re weak. That’s a choice they make from the depth of their own character.
Hot Sauce could sense I wasn’t okay, and instead of reacting to my sloppiness, she chose to steady herself. Horses are prey animals by nature; flighty, reactive, quick to respond to instability. The great ones override that instinct. They don’t just follow your cues; they watch over you. That’s something no championship buckle, polished pattern, or high-dollar check can replace.
Photo by Genevieve Burnett Photography
It’s easy to get swept up in the glamour of wins, scores, and polished performances, but greatness isn’t about what a horse can do on its best day. It’s about how they carry you through your worst. For me, that competition with Hot Sauce will always stand out; not because it was flawless (it was so far from it), but because it revealed the kind of horse she truly is. She showed me she’s not just fiery and fun when I’m strong. She’s reliable, steady, and caring when I’m weak. That’s the real definition of a next-level horse.
Photo by Genevieve Burnett Photography
How do you know when you have one of the great horses? It’s not when the trophies stack up, or when people stop you at shows to compliment their beauty. You know you have a next-level horse when they become your anchor when faced with it. When they cover for you instead of exposing you. When they steady your ride on the days you can’t steady yourself.
Those are the horses worth their weight in gold. I know, because I have one. Hot Sauce, my fiery mare, proved it to me in the quietest, most humbling way possible; by carrying me through the weakest ride of my life with more grace, softness, and care than I ever could have asked for. That is something no buckle will ever outshine.
