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“Impossible Dream? Welcome to Reality”

Kailin Baechle

Here. Now. In this moment, the entire world is frozen, as if one tiny movement or a sharp

intake of breath would cause the world to implode before our eyes. I only have one last chance to

prove that we belong here in the National Championship. One chance to prove to myself, my

supporters, and my adversaries that my years of blood, sweat, and tears weren’t wasted. This is

it. The entire world is spinning around me. The blue and white of the arena walls blur into the

evergreen of the shavings under his feet. It’s probably because I’m subconsciously holding my

breath, and the lack of oxygen is inhibiting the function of my brain. I can feel the eyes of each

person in the stands, staring anxiously to see if he’ll take a wrong step.

“Whoa.”

I’m not sure if I’m saying it to him or myself. All I know is I’m repeating the word

incessantly, until my voice wavers enough to make the word incomprehensible. Now my entire

body is shaking- twitching in sharp, sporadic movements. I’ve lost all control. I close my eyes. I

need to calm down. I need to feel, deep down inside of myself, that I have control. That I can-

and will- do this. He stands beneath me- still, but poised to spring into any movement that I ask

of him at any moment.

Beneath the cover of my eyelids, I can see the words coming back to me- the words that

have stained the mirrors in my room for years. “The greatest barrier to success is the fear of

failure.” “Before you win, you have to believe you are worthy.” “When you need something to

believe in, start with yourself.” I have recited these words over and over, dreaming of this

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moment. Now I’m here, and it’s time to put them into action. I gasp for air and manage to take a

breath. I curl my fingers tighter around the reigns, feeling their cold roughness through my

immaculate white gloves.

How did I get here, anyway? Well, eleven years ago, I was a girl with a dream- an

impossible dream that only a six-year-old has the audacity to dream. I was going to be a

horseback rider, and I was going to be great. On a stormy fall day after years of relentless

pleading, my mom’s white Lexus SUV pulled into the dusty gravel drive of Meadowood Stables.

When I stepped into the barn for the first time, the wind whipped through the open ends of the

barn, threatening to lift the whole structure off the ground, much less a forty pound girl. By that

time, the entire barn was empty other than the lesson instructor, Leslie. All of the show horses

had been worked for the day, being ridden or jogged before the humidity came to slow them

down. Leslie stood with her hand resting on the neck of a dusty bay quarter horse with a round

white star that was beginning to bleed out with age. His personality matched his name- Buddy.

Within minutes, I put my feet in the irons for the first time. Despite Buddy’s smaller stature, my

bony legs barely fell halfway down his sides. My mom was absolutely terrified. To her, it

seemed impossible for a girl that small to control such a powerful animal. And I wasn’t just any

six-year-old girl. I was the girl who would run away from the soccer ball when someone kicked

it in my direction. Nevertheless, I gazed into the eye of a thousand-pound animal without a hint

of fear. My hand made its way from his forehead, between his ears, down his muscly neck to his

powerful shoulder. The feeling wasn’t new to me- it was natural. In his giant eye, I saw more

than darkness- even more than the honest soul of the gentle animal that lived behind that

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glistening eye. I saw myself. I saw my heart, my soul, my dreams, and my future. At that

moment, I grabbed the reins, looked up through his fuzzy ears, and never looked back.

Of course, just riding was never going to fulfill my grandiose dreams. I wanted a show

horse of my own. On Christmas morning when I was ten, my mom insisted that we go to the

barn to take Christmas pictures with Rambler- the lesson horse I was riding at the time. When we

got to the barn, it was absolutely breathtaking. Snow was falling softly from a creamy white sky

onto the couple of inches of fluffy powder that had accumulated overnight. The barn was

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completely empty. The twinkling Christmas lights that had been strung above the stalls were the

only light in the silent expanse of darkness. Out of nowhere, Natalie- my trainers’ daughter-

appeared and asked if she could read me a poem that she wrote. Seeing that I had no choice, I

agreed. She led me into the middle of the dark arena. It was a long poem, but I’ll always

remember the ending lines: “A little lady, a gift for Kailin, her name is Sadie.” At that moment,

all of the lights in the barn flashed on at once, accompanied by an echoing metallic click, which

was soon followed by the unmistakable mellifluous sound of metal shoes hitting the pavement in

the stall aisleway. My parents emerged with a video camera near the rail, and before I could

process what was happening, my two trainers appeared from the aisleway leading a prancing

mare with a giant red bow around her neck. Her coat glistened like melted chocolate, shining

almost purple under the bright lights. She was unlike any horse I had ever seen. She had a white

stripe that stopped hallway up her face instead of continuing up between her eyes, and she had a

back that looked like Santa Claus must have been just a little too heavy. Now I know she was

“sway-backed”- so swaybacked that her back made a perfect U shape between her withers and

her hips. But to me, she was perfect. My trainer handed me her leadrope, but I still couldn’t

believe it. She was mine. I had a show horse. I held my hand out to say hello, and her velvet

nose immediately dropped onto my palm and made its way over to blow warm, balmy air onto

my face. That’s when I saw the golden plate on the side of her halter with the inscription “Kailin

Baechle” below “Private Conversation.” I threw my arms around her neck, and my tears made

black blotches on her chest. I was no longer just a lesson rider.

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Thus began my seven year career showing in saddleseat equitation- a career that would

eventually total 127 show ring appearances with 68 first place and 33 second place finishes.

Before I knew it, I had a new trainer, Kent, and a new horse- Devote. Devote, or arguably

Devoté, was a seventeen-year-old round-barreled chestnut mare with a big white stripe and an

even bigger heart to go with it. When I was twelve, she took me to a place that I had never

imagined, even my wildest of dreams- the World Championship Horse Show in Louisville,

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Kentucky. It was surreal. In contrast to the usual brown dirt and dusty white walls, Freedom Hall

was overflowing with electric color. The walls were scrubbed clean until the white paint shone in

contrast to the royal blue drapes behind them. Instead of dirt, the ring was filled with neon green

cedar shavings. Even the judges’ booth in the middle of the ring was surrounded with bright

yellow flowers. I’ll never forget that pungent Louisville smell. The smell of baby oil, horse

sweat, and cedar that shot into my nose with the cold sting of the blasting air conditioning that

provided some relief from the Kentucky August heat. The very air I breathed was supersaturated

with excitement. As we stood in the warm-up ring waiting for the gates to open for our class, I

marveled at the riders around me. Everyone in my age group was from other chapters- I had

never competed against any of them before. Next to me was Gavin Gagnon- the boy who had

won the World Championship the year before and the three years before that. Before I was done

admiring his beautiful bay mare, the gates opened, and down the chute we went. When Devote’s

feet hit the bottom of the ramp, her neck flew back into my lap, and my seventeen-year-old mare

decided that she was ten years younger. At the end of the thrilling class, the announcer’s voice

echoed through Freedom Hall. “The choice of the judges is unanimous.” I leaned down and

patted Devote’s sweaty shoulder, telling her that I thought we did amazing, anyway. The

announcer’s voice boomed again. Kent’s hands were against her neck and then my waist. Her

hooves pounded against the green shavings. The cameras flashed, and I must have smiled. I was

in the winner’s circle. I won the World Championship. “Congratulations, Kailin,” the ringmaster

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said as he handed the blue ribbons to Kent. In that moment, my impossible dream seemed to be

possible, after all.

The next year I won again with a horse named Murray and a new trainer named Gary, but

I had yet to really find the “greatness” I dreamed of. I hadn’t yet found the horse that would take

me there. That June, I found myself in Kentucky on a horse-trying trip with my mom and Gary.

It was our third day of the journey, and I had chosen my favorite pink polo shirt to wear on that

warm June morning. As we pulled into the drive of the Leatherwood Stud Farm, it was the most

beautiful place I had ever seen. As far as the eye could see, there was rolling green pastures

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dotted with mares and their foals. The drive seemed to go on forever as we drove all the way to

the back corner to the training barn called Visser Stables. As I walked into the barn, Neil Visser

brought out a lean bay gelding named Harley Rally. Gary gave me a leg up onto his back, and

off we went. It was probably the worst ride of my life. When I asked him to trot, all he did was

canter, and when I asked him to canter, all he did was trot. In short, it was a complete disaster.

How could something so wrong feel so right? Looking up through his chiseled black-tipped ears,

something inside of me knew that he was the horse I needed to buy. He was the horse that would

carry me to greatness. As we pulled back onto the highway, my mom asked which horse I

thought we should buy. In a moment of faith, I asked God to give me a sign that my intuition

was right. At that moment a big, flashy black pickup truck swerved in front of us, and there was

nothing other than a giant Harley Davidson decal on its rear window. Call it coincidence or call

it destiny, I immediately turned to my mom and said “Harley Rally”. She turned to me in

disbelief, given the disastrous ride that I had just had, but she saw in my eyes that I was serious.

Riley was not trained for equitation when he arrived home to Fairfield South Saddlebreds

a week later. He couldn’t pick up a trot without skipping for a few steps, he couldn’t halt for

more than a few seconds without fidgeting, and he cantered with huge strides like a gaited horse.

From the beginning, many people tried to convince me that I had made the wrong decision, and I

would never be successful with a horse like Riley. No one believed that he would ever be a

champion equitation horse, but then again, no one ever believed that I would be a champion

equitation rider. For three years, we trained and trained and trained until slowly but surely, we

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began to take the shape of an equitation team. Equitation isn’t always about having a robotic

horse that lets you just sit on its back and look pretty. I have never wanted to be that rider, even

if it meant winning every class I went into. For me, equitation isn’t about the competitions or the

titles. It’s about the unbreakable bond between a horse and his rider and the indecipherable

language that they speak. It’s about unconditional love and impossible dreams that somehow

find their way into reality. Riley and I have been to Hell and back together, but we have never

given up on each other. That’s why we’re here now.

I can do this. “1… 2… 3.” I open my eyes. It seems like we’ve been standing here for

hours, but it’s only been a few seconds. Everything is clear now. I just have to keep him moving

in a straight line until his nose touches the white wall. Well, that’s only the first step, but we’ll

worry about the next segment when we get there. I tighten my right hand, squeezing my fingers

to my palm in an imperceptible movement to shift his bit to the right side of his mouth. I shift

my right hip into his back and touch him ever-so-slightly with my right calf.

“Canter.”

He picks up his correct lead without moving a foot out of place. We’ve never done that

so perfectly before. His nose touches the rail, and I halt him and pivot him 135 degrees to the left

to face the other side of the arena. A thousand pounds of pure muscle surge beneath me, yet we

don’t move anywhere. I can hear the whispers in the stands now. I know they can’t believe what

they’re seeing. Harley Rally doing a perfect equitation pattern? Impossible.

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“Trot.”

He surges into a bold show trot without a hint of uncertainty. He bends his body perfectly

as I ask him to execute a half-circle once we hit center-ring. He stops before I have to say

anything. In this moment, we’re perfectly in tune with each other. He knows what I’m going to

ask next before I even begin to ask, and I can anticipate his every move. He transitions

flawlessly into a canter to complete the circle and makes a straight line to the opposite rail.

“Whoa.”

All that’s left to do is pivot 90 degrees to the right and trot back to the line-up. Oh, and I

have to take my feet out of the irons for the entire distance back. I can do this. 139 rides on

Riley, and it all comes down to this. It all comes down to digging my knees solidly into the

saddle and lightening up on his bridle to let him fly down the rail like the performance horse he

is.

“Ready Riley? Trot.”

Before I feel the sting of my jods rubbing against the skin of my knees like sandpaper,

I’m back in the lineup. The whole crowd erupts in applause. Here, in my last equitation ride, I

have finally achieved the greatness I have always dreamed of. No matter the results of the class,

my impossible dream has found its way into reality. I throw my arms around Riley’s neck, which

is now covered with white, frothy foam where the reins have rubbed against it.

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“The 2013 American Royal Saddle Seat Equitation National Champion is… Number

247: Kailin Baechle.”

Hot tears form in my eyes and escape down my cheeks as we turn into the winner’s

circle. I had never even imagined winning a National Championship with him. So many mixed

emotions find their way into my head. Of course I’m overjoyed that we won, and I finally got to

experience a true moment of greatness. But this is our last time. After tonight, I will never see

Riley again. After tonight, everything we have worked for will be nothing but a memory. It’s

time to pass on my dream to another little girl. I look up at the crowd and the lights and the

cameras. I want to take it all in one last time. The crowd cheers louder than ever before as we

march down the rail for the very last time.

When I was six years old, I met an old bay quarter horse named Buddy. He looked at me,

and I looked at him. I knew I was where I was supposed to be. I was a girl with a dream- an

impossible dream that only a six-year-old has the audacity to dream. I put my feet in the irons,

looked up through his fuzzy ears, and never looked back. Impossible dream? Welcome to reality.

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