The Seven Stages of Horse Show Crud

Because nothing says “successful weekend” like a prize check, solid memories, and a sinus infection.

You made it home. The horse is tucked in, the trailer is (mostly) unpacked, and you’re riding the high of a weekend well spent. Maybe you even placed. Maybe your horse behaved like a saint. Maybe you only cried once.

And then… it hits.

A tickle in your throat. A heaviness behind your eyes. That unmistakable sense that somewhere between the shared water cooler, the dusty warm-up ring, and the communal snack table, you picked up the equestrian equivalent of the plague: horse show crud.

Like any great life event, it comes with stages.

Stage 1: Denial

“This is just allergies.” Or “Maybe I imbibed a bit too heavily last night.” Or the classic (and quite true) “I just didn’t get enough sleep this weekend.”

You say this while chugging coffee and ignoring the fact that your head feels like it’s packed with arena footing. Sure, your throat hurts. Sure, you’re sneezing like your horse just discovered pepper. But it’s fine. Totally fine. Probably just dust. Or pollen. Or gunpowder (if you’re a mounted shooter).

You go about your day as usual, loudly insisting to anyone within earshot that you “never get sick.”

Stage 2: Anger

“WHO BROUGHT THIS HERE?!”

Now you’re mad. At the showgrounds. At the weather. At the person who hacked up a lung ringside and then pet your horse. At yourself for using that communal pen at the show office.

You replay the weekend like it’s a crime scene investigation:

The shared hose
The borrowed hoof pick
That one friend who said, “I’ve been a little under the weather, but it’s probably nothing”
It was not nothing.

Stage 3: Bargaining

“If I just hydrate and take vitamins, I can beat this.”

You enter your wellness era. Emergen-C packets. Zinc. Electrolytes. Herbal tea. That one supplement someone swore by on Facebook. You convince yourself that if you have a REALLY HEALTHY couple of days and  just stay ahead of it, you won’t actually get sick. You’ll make up for all those questionable choices over the weekend. You’ll be kind to strangers. You’ll do whatever it takes.

You even consider going for a light ride to “sweat it out,” which your horse finds deeply suspicious.

Stage 4: Depression

“I am never leaving my house again.”

You have been humbled.

Your sinuses are clogged, your body aches, and you’re pretty sure your soul left your body sometime overnight. The laundry pile from the show looms in the corner like a judgmental spectator.

You scroll through photos from the weekend, wondering how you went from “thriving equestrian athlete” to “human tissue dispenser” in less than 48 hours.

Your horse, somehow, looks better than ever.

Stage 5: Acceptance

“Well, this is my life now.”

You’ve made peace with it. You cancel plans. You commit to the couch. You finally admit (to yourself, if not publicly) that yes, you are, in fact, sick.

You start referring to it casually:
“Oh yeah, just the usual post-show crud.”

Like it’s a rite of passage. Which, let’s be honest, it sort of is.

Stage 6: The Equestrian Exception

“I still have to take care of the horses.”

Unlike normal illnesses, this one comes with chores. Your horses still need to be fed, turned out, groomed, and possibly worked (because heaven forbid they have two days off and turn into a feral creature).

So you bundle up, drag yourself to the barn, and function at approximately 37% capacity while your horse munches on hay like the king or queen it is.

There is no sick leave in horse ownership. Only slightly slower suffering.

Stage 7: The Lie You Tell Yourself

“I feel fine. Totally fine. I’ll be good by Friday.”

It’s Wednesday. You’re still coughing. Still tired. Still not 100%.

But the show this weekend isn’t going to itself.

So you start the cycle again:

Laundry gets done
Tack gets cleaned (or at least wiped aggressively)
Entries get confirmed
Trailer gets restocked
You look in the mirror, pale and slightly unhinged, and say with full confidence, “I’m basically better.”

You are not better.

But you’re going anyway.

***

Horse show crud isn’t just a bug; it’s a lifestyle. It’s what happens when you combine travel, stress, dust, not enough sleep, perhaps a few drinks, and a community that absolutely will share snacks and said drinks.

But here we are. We keep coming back.

Because somewhere between the sneezing and the Kleenex, there’s that one perfect stage, that one good ride, that one moment that makes you think: “Okay, this was worth it.”

Even if you’ll be sick about it later.