June 16, 2016 
My love for horses started, like many women, when I was young. My parents made me wait until I was five to start lessons. The memory of my first visit to the barn is seared into my brain. I can remember the smells, the sounds, meeting my instructor and of course, Fritz—my first school horse that I would spend many years riding. Horses have brought so much to my life and helped shape me to be the person I am today.
I have too many people to thank than is possible — today I’m thanking my father. He was beyond a “barn dad”. While I never did get that pony, I got a life-long love for horses and an appreciation for so much more.
I rode at a “working” barn. It wasn’t filled with fancy horses, immaculate stalls, perfectly manicured fences, and there were no Olympic-bound riders, but to me, it was—and still is—perfect.
My father was the best barn dad a girl could ask for.
My dad was the one who would run to the store to get everyone coffee, patiently wait as I wanted to hang out long, long after my lesson ended, and warm my feet up when I’d get defrosting pains on cold winter rides. He developed friendships with the other barn parents—okay, that might have been so he could get manure for his garden and hay for the chickens’ bedding— but he was there. He’d try to come into the arena when I fell off, but what sticks out most is that he took lessons with me.
For the first year or so, my dad and I had lessons together. He picked it up faster than I did, but I blame that on my little five-year-old arms and legs. At some point, I told my dad I wanted to do group lessons with the other kids. I was oblivious to the hurt feelings only children can inflict on their parents. I didn’t get it. I told him he should keep riding—just not with me. Oops.
My dad didn’t keep riding. But he did keep showing up, watching and supporting. I remember one particularly hard fall. It was in the dead of winter in Upstate New York. The arena was frozen solid and it might as well have been a cement block. I was learning flying lead changes. I went one way and the horse the other. We’ve all had that kind of fall where the wind is knocked out of you and you can’t breathe.
My instructor tried to get give me an immediate leg up. I get it now. Get back on before the fear seeps in. And my instructor, at times, was one to be feared. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have things thrown at your head (always missing) if you weren’t listening or messing up your diagonal for the millionth time. I wasn’t ready to get back on. I pushed my trainer away and he fell to the ground. Boy did I think I was going to be in trouble. Five minutes later, after my lungs were accepting air again, I was up and giving those lead changes another go.
Later, my dad said he was proud I pushed my trainer. My 9-year-old brain could not compute. Pushing, especially an adult, is a big no-no. The point he was getting at—that he was proud that I could “communicate” what I needed and stand up for myself.
I can hardly think of an early barn memory that does not have my dad in it.
Years later, my dad was there for me with my riding again. I hadn’t ridden in years, between college and living in NYC, but now, in Vermont, I was contemplating returning. But my 20-somethings did not bring much disposable income. Then I was going through a particularly hard break-up, and my dad sent me money for a few months of lessons. It was the best thing anyone could have done. I reconnected with my love for horses, made some fabulous new friends, and found another level of confidence that you need in your 20s when the real world hits (and hits hard).
On this Father’s Day, thank you, dad. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for taking lessons with me. Thank you for the gift of horses that has taught me empathy, hard work, confidence and given me a place I can go whenever I need it.
I hope you take some lessons again. This time, it’s on me.
About the Author
Gretchen Kruesi, is the Director of Audience at Horse Network, and oversees the execution of audience growth tactics. When not number crunching for Horse Network or at the barn with her favorite Appaloosa, Macintosh, you can find her hiking in the Adirondacks. Follow her quest to hike the 46 High Peaks solo at: www.krazykruesi.com.
