February 27, 2026: Recalibrating - Training the Dragon
So We Asked the Experts
If this week had a theme, it would be this: let’s gather opinions.
Sarah Salter:
Thursday, Trainer Sarah Salter rode Bee in both the main arena and the barrel arena for her first ride post-accident. No pressure, just the entire barn quietly invested. There were on-lookers, not in a judgmental way, but in the way that happens when people care deeply about both the rider and the horse and want to see things go well.
Sarah focused heavily on addressing Bee’s gate sour tendencies and her tendency to mentally clock out toward home. The goal was simple in theory but harder in execution: less reacting, more thinking. Bee has access to both sides of her brain. She just tends to default to the reactive one first. Sarah made her work through it with circles, transitions, and patient insistence on responsiveness. Bee broke a sweat, not from confusion but from effort. It was controlled. It was productive. And it was clear that Bee is not broken.
It takes a village to raise a rider…and occasionally evaluate a dragon. Trainers are a spectator sport at Equine Obsession! Dragon still under review.
Main arena. Forward. Focused. Listening. Turns out the dragon does, in fact, have manners. Noted.
Yes. This arena. Redemption tour, first stop.
Friday an experienced barrel racer climbed aboard in both arenas. Different rider. Different feel. Same horse. She pushed Bee forward, tested the buttons, and asked for responsiveness in a way that only someone very comfortable at speed can do. Her verdict was simple: “She’s got all the right buttons. She just needs to figure out how to slow down.” In other words, she’s a sports car without cruise control. Barrel racer mom, watching from the rail, called her a “cute little powerhouse”, which feels both accurate and mildly intimidating.
This is what out of shape Bee looks like at full speed. Same arena. Different rider. Now that’s what she was bred to do.
Saturday we had friends visiting from Kansas City. They’ve heard about Bee. They’ve followed the drama. They wanted to see her do her thing. I’m still too sore in the ribs to ride, so I stayed grounded, but Lupe our amazing horse and property manager graciously stepped in and gave them a demonstration. He rode her through transitions, asked her to wait, and tested her willingness to respond rather than anticipate. Afterward he said, “She just needs to learn to do what I want, not what she wants.” Welcome to my world, Lupe.
Experienced hands. Clear leadership. Calm Confidence. This is what decades of riding looks like.
What struck me most was the consistency in the feedback. Three experienced riders, three slightly different styles, one common thread. She’s athletic. She’s responsive. She’s powerful. She’s not malicious. She’s not crazy. She’s simply a lot of horse.
Which brings us back to the real question. It isn’t whether Bee can be ridden. It isn’t whether she’s trainable. The deeper question is whether I am quickly able to become the rider she requires. That’s a more vulnerable place to stand. Becoming a good rider takes time and a lot of hours in saddle. Yes, I’ve been putting the hours in, but clearly not yet enough.
I also got back on Bee this week, ribs wrapped. We started in the arena, focused on quiet, deliberate reps. No heroics. Just consistency. We walked and pleasure horse trotted or what I would call a 1st gear trot for an hour. The helmet conversation has officially shifted, I’ll be wearing the brain bucket going forward.
Same Bee. Wiser Rider.
We’re not done. We’re recalibrating.
Bee and I are heading to train with Sarah at her place. We’re going to take this month by month, ride by ride, and assess both of us over time. Not emotionally. Not dramatically. Just honestly. We believe Bee is a smart, teachable horse. That has never really been the question. She has talent. She has buttons. She has power. What she needs is refinement and consistency. Sarah will give her that. And I know I am willing to put in the time it takes to become a better rider (Sarah will give me that!).
The part we don’t know yet is whether I can rise to whatever new level Bee ultimately reaches. That’s not a statement of defeat. It’s just reality. Horses progress. Riders either grow with them or decide the fit isn’t right.
We’re not making rash decisions. We’re making intentional ones. Selling her is still a possibility if, over time, it becomes clear that she would thrive more with a rider who matches her athletic ceiling. That would break my heart, but loving a horse sometimes means choosing what’s best for them, not what’s most comfortable for you.
For now, we train. We learn. We show up.
And we’ll give updates as we go.
This isn’t the end of our story.
It’s the beginning of the next chapter.
Until Next Week,
Christina (Bee is still grounded from commentary)
I found this little video helpful in framing my thinking today: Building positive experiences after a fall