Sandhills Equine Online Exclusive

reprinted with permission from Sandhills Equine Online Exclusives 

Equestrymen

The unsung heroes of the equestrian world
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By Ed Oeltjen


“These guys need a support group.” 
I had just started dating my now wife, and we had moved beyond the honeymoon stage. 

See, in those early days, I had enjoyed the benefits of a fresh, new relationship. I got to shows and was given a comfy folding chair, asked what kind of beer I’d prefer, and sauntered to the ring just in time to watch her jump around some colored poles - blissfully unaware of just how much money she had dropped for that 86 seconds of glory. 
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I knew that dressage was supposed to look like a dance, and realized that it was not because it was always graceful and elegant, but because the warmup often resembled a high school prom where someone had spiked the punch and no one could remember which way the electric slide started. 

And cross country was exciting. Or rather, it made her excited. To me, she went out of the box, jumped 2 jumps and disappeared while her friends stood and chewed their nails until we heard her horse’s thundering hooves approach to cross the finish line. Or maybe it was a different rider, on a bay horse, black helmet, and big smile… they still all look very similar to me. 

And then the fresh relationship faded into the heat and humidity of the summer. My comfy chair was now stacked high with a sweaty saddle pad and other bits of unidentified equipment. And when I say unidentified, I mean, there is stuff that a lunch lady would wear, or a dominatrix, or maybe a soccer player, but they were for the horse!

And I had to learn to pre-purchase my beer of choice. Not that there wasn’t beer in the cooler, but it was probably going to be what was on sale at the nearest gas station, or something purchased by my equestrian because ‘the bottle looked cool’.
 
Suddenly I was the runner - running back to the barn to fetch a forgotten number, or to the tack store to buy a tube of some sort of magic calming potion on days that it looks like my equestrian might be in danger. (side note - the tack store ladies always appreciate a beverage or two and I now get a trainer discount because of it).

And suddenly I was the carrier. I got ‘gifted’ a ring side bag. One that I thought was for my beverages, but it turns out it was for spurs and crops and rag with slime of unknown origin. I was carrying saddles, and feed, and other items that I don’t even know about since the pile was above my head and I was balancing the entire load precariously since apparently taking more than one trip is out of the question. 

And then I began to spot them. My fellow brethren. They were also loaded down with various items that they surely weren’t aware of the purpose.  They were also pulling out their credit cards as their daughter or wife or girlfriend hurried away with a prized piece of leather. They also were hot, sweaty, and a little exhausted from climbing up and down the mountains of emotions that come with those few minutes in the arena. 

I wasn’t alone. 

And in fact, I was a part of a very cool family of people, each coming from completely different backgrounds, and each having different stories of how we made our way to a glorified field in the middle of nowhere to watch some horses fancy prance around in circles. 

For our equestrians, the glory comes from conquering fears, achieving goals, and having a relationship with a huge four legged beast with a brain the size of a walnut. They unify over the rollercoaster of emotions that come along with the sport. They are quick with positive comments. “Wow, your horse looks really great.” “You really rode that jump well.” “Your last Facebook video was hilarious.” 

My new found friends and I started by simply sharing a knowing glance, a friendly half smile, and maybe a few words of greeting. But while our equestrians were sharing their weekend with the masses, we were relegated for the most part to our immediate acquaintances. And while we did live the highs and lows of our own equestrians, we were largely unattached to the true emotions behind it, thinking that perhaps we were the only ones feeling confused and slightly lost. 
As our friendships grew, we learned of our varied backgrounds. Some of us knew more than others. Maybe how to lead a horse. Maybe how to pack the cooler. Maybe what a saddle is, or what treats were preferred. Perhaps some have even ridden horses. Or some never have the desire to even get close to those large, sweaty animals, but will be in the stands, cheering their equestrians on no matter what the outcome.
 
So I decided that we needed to have a support group. 

As a husband to someone who not only actively competes, but also runs horse shows, I’ve felt just how the whole vibe of a show can change with some positive words and feeling of inclusion. I figured if the husbands and dads started to view a show weekend as a social outing with a sense of community, that the whole show itself would be elevated.

What started with a cooler of beer and some friendly chit chat has now grown to awards, apparel, and the shows now feel like a team building exercise for those of us that may still be confused why people keep saying “inside leg to outside rein.”


Ed Oeltjen, is blissfully unqualified as an equestrian, but is the husband of eventing trainer and dressage show organizer, Cassidy, and the founder of Equestrymen, the support group for horse husbands, dads, and anyone who finds themselves supporting an equestrian. ​