March 5, 2025 
It can be the case that we look back on our lives and can easily identify inflection points—the key moments and events that led to change, to new goals, to opportunity, to adventure. In Sydney Collier’s case, this was an epiphany of epic proportions. As she struggled to find purpose following a deadly diagnosis at the age of seven (she had the incredibly rare Wyburn-Mason Syndrome) and the first of multiple strokes at the age of eleven, her mother and grandmother took her to the 2010 World Equestrian Games (WEG) to watch the para dressage competition. The trip would reignite the driven, motivated, joyful competitor trapped inside Sydney’s new physical reality. In this excerpt from her memoir Beyond Expectations, Sydney shares what it was like to rediscover the excitement for all that’s possible in a life with horses.
***
I can’t do justice to the feeling I had when I saw para riders for the first time—it was at the World Equestrian Games in Lexington, Kentucky. These were athletes with disabilities like me, competing at the upper levels. My earlier childhood goals didn’t seem so far away anymore. For the first time in what felt like years, I felt my inner fire rekindle deep within. It may have been a small flame, but it wasn’t gone like I’d feared.
The rider I remember the most, the one who really affected me, was a woman without arms. She held one set of the reins of the double bridle in her mouth, and the second set of reins with her bare feet, and she rode beautifully. I’d never seen a more striking example of inclusivity as that woman in my life. Nothing was stopping her from achieving her goals, and it made me feel like I could do the same thing.
I had a true epiphany, just like a moment out of a movie! I stood there watching and thought, If these athletes are out there pursuing their goals, then I can do it too. If I really apply myself, it could be me on this team.
It was the most empowering moment of my life to date. Even though I was different, I wasn’t as useless as society seemed to be telling me I was.
For the first time in a long time, I had hope. My mother thought she’d opened Pandora’s Box, but there was no turning back for me. It wasn’t enough to watch others ride at WEG. I wanted to meet as many riders as possible. I went from shuttered, surly, teenage Sydney, to excited, chatty Syd in the blink of an eye. My mom and grandma probably had whiplash. I had an absolute blast!
My mom and grandma stayed in the background and let me explore, giving me freedom. I enjoyed every moment and met as many people as possible. It’s easy to coddle your disabled child and try to protect them from the world, perpetuating dependence. My family didn’t helicopter me or wrap me in bubble wrap like I was some broken thing. Instead, they gave me free rein and let me explore. I’ve always been my own person. I am so grateful to them for allowing that independence to evolve.
That independence allowed me to walk up, limping the whole way and leaning on my cane, to anyone and everyone who was around, so that I could introduce myself and say hello. I knew the sport of para dressage was a way that I could step up to the challenges I was facing and not let life beat me down. It became apparent that it gave me the strength to embrace my new body and my new self. It was the beginning of something exciting.
One of these introductions became life-changing.
I opened with, “You look like someone I should know.”
I am so damn cheeky, but it would be the most important meeting of my life. That rider turned out to be Jonathan Wentz, who would set a cascade of events into motion that led me to where I am today.
At the time, Jonathan was about nineteen years old and representing the United States at his first World Equestrian Games. He had the sunniest disposition—so friendly and welcoming. At over six feet tall you might think he would seem unapproachable, but he had a presence about him, an energy, a way of making others feel comfortable—something I emulate to this day and hope to provide for others.
Jonathan’s goal to be a positive light and help bring more young riders into the sport of para dressage quickly became apparent. It was his passion, and it was something that really resonated with me. Before I knew it, he offered to introduce me to Hope Hand, founder and (then) president of the United States Para-Equestrian Association (USPEA), so that I could be “classified,” right then, right there—at the World Equestrian Games! (According to the FEI, classification by “Grade” enables competitors to be judged at an international level on their individual skill on their horse, regardless of their physical impairment. “The competitor’s mobility, strength, and coordination are assessed in order to establish their Classification Profile. People with similar functional ability Profiles are grouped into competition Grades. For para dressage, the Grades range from Grade I for the most severely impaired, to Grade V for the least impaired.”)
My grandmother was with me during my chat with Jonathan, while my mother remained on the other side of the arena. As I felt my life suddenly being swept up in a current that might lead to a future I hadn’t thought possible, I hurried back to where my mom was waiting.
“Mom, Mom!” I said, my voice full of excitement and disbelief. “You’ll never believe this but I’m going to get classified right here for para dressage and start doing this! Right now!”
Before she could utter a word, I was off again.
After Jonathan’s ride, he took me to meet Hope, as promised, and get classified. I did not know what to expect. I assumed the process would happen on a horse, where I was most comfortable—I imagined maybe I’d even get to ride Richter Scale, the horse Jonathan had just competed. I was so hyped.
To my disappointment, there was no horse. Watching other riders is never the same as being on a horse myself, so it bummed me out. Any day I can get on the back of a horse is a good day. Later, physical therapists trained as classifiers explained that being on a horse can make someone look more able-bodied than that person actually is, so classifiers base their evaluation on the rider only, unmounted.
The classifiers at WEG led me to a trailer, with my grandma in tow as chaperone. There I did a series of muscle tests to help determine what “Grade” I would be when competing in para dressage, so that I would ride with athletes who had similar abilities on an even playing field.
I remember thinking, Is this actually happening?
I was classified as a Grade II rider, so I would ride tests that included fifty-fifty walk and trot requirements, parallel to a Second Level dressage test, minus the canter aspect. I felt elation. I hadn’t even known this sport existed a month ago! In the blink of an eye, my mindset changed from believing dressage was boring to appreciating all the potential there was for me in the sport.
“Mom, Grammy, next WEG and Paralympics—it’s going to be me on that team,” I announced.
My diagnosis and stroke would not define me anymore. I wanted to write the rest of my story.
This excerpt is adapted from Beyond Expectations by Sydney Collier and Heather Wallace and reprinted with permission from Trafalgar Square Books (trafalgarbooks.com).
