Learning to Ride in a New Body

Jackson and I enjoying a sunny stroll

One of the biggest lies I believed after surgery was that once I lost the weight, riding would be easy again. That my body would just "work" the way it used to. That I’d swing my leg over the saddle and feel… at home.

But the truth?

Nothing felt familiar.

My seat, my balance, my strength — all of it felt foreign. I wasn’t just adjusting to a different version of myself physically… I was grieving the rider I used to be.

Post-surgery, my body was lighter — yes — but it was also weaker in ways I didn’t expect. The core strength I once took for granted was gone. My muscle memory felt scrambled. Even my confidence was shaky, because the body I used to ride in so instinctively… didn’t exist anymore.

And nobody really talks about that.

Nobody warns you that you might need to relearn how to post, how to sit deep, how to keep your legs still. That even simple things like mounting could feel awkward again. That your body might hesitate, even when your heart is all in.

At first, I was frustrated. I would get down on myself after every ride — comparing my present performance to my past capabilities.

“You used to ride so much better.”

“You shouldn’t be struggling with this.”

“This is supposed to be easier now.”

But slowly, I started shifting my focus from what I had lost… to what I was building.

Every time I stayed centered through a transition — that was a win.

Every time I mounted without help — a win.

Every time I stopped obsessing over my form and just enjoyed the ride — a massive win.

It wasn’t about riding better than before.

It was about rebuilding a relationship with my body, on new terms.

I had to start giving myself grace, just like I give my students. I would never look at a beginner rider and shame them for not “getting it” fast enough — so why was I doing that to myself?

I realized I had to meet this new version of me — just like I would a green horse. With patience. With consistency. With kindness.

Yes, there have been setbacks. There are days my balance is off, or I feel like a stranger in my own body. Days I cry after dismounting because I feel like I’ve gone backward. But then there are days I surprise myself — when my timing is just right, when my seat feels secure, when I dismount and smile instead of sigh.

Those are the days I hang onto.

Those are the reminders that I can ride in this new body. That healing is happening — not all at once, but little by little, in the small moments that add up.

This journey isn’t about returning to who I was.

It’s about becoming someone stronger — more aware, more grounded, more grateful.

So if you’re learning to ride again — whether it’s after surgery, illness, a baby, a breakup, or just a long break — please know this:

You’re allowed to start over.

You’re allowed to relearn.

You’re allowed to ride differently than you did before — and still be proud of the rider you are now.

Because showing up for yourself in the saddle, in whatever body you’re in today, is nothing short of brave.

And brave rides beautifully.