“Rider eight-oh-three to the start!” A monotone voice ran through the speakers. This was it, my first time back on the cross country course since last summer. Am I nervous? Of course. Nightmares have taken over my sleep until today.  
My trainer, Meg, is always been a comfort of mine, and as she hands me the reins to my Swedish Warmblood, I look to her for words of encouragement. Instead, she just nods to me. My stomach twists in confusment, but as I mount Moose, my dark bay gelding, I have to brush off the nervousness.
The start line is just how I remember it, busy with prancing horses, and paramedics on the standby. I shiver at the thought of them, but continue to walk on. Bending down slightly to show the official the medical card attached to my arm, I scoped out the course.
Exactly how I recall it. The first water feature starts at jump seven, and the second starts at jump thirteen. You pass through the ‘western frontier’, and along with a few singles, you’re soon done. The three miles you pass through don’t seem that long while you’re on the course, but as I look at it right now, I feel overpowered.
“Arabella Evans is at the start, on Midnight Myth.” The buzz startled me, but I pushed my heels down, ready for anything from this moment on.
“You good?” The chunky man who had checked me in had a hand on my practically dancing horse, and I nodded to him.
The murky sky made me even more tense, and Moose could feel that. Muttering a few comforting words to him, the bell rung, and I sit low on my seat bones, cueing for a canter, and took off.
I immediatly half halt after a smooth transition, but still quickly approach the first jump. Realising my reins slightly, I two-point, and land standing.
Moose glide over the oxer with ease, and a weight came off of my shoulders. We made it over the first jump, and at the rate he was going, we wouldn’t have any time faults.
The last time I had been on a cross country course? Things hadn’t gone so smoothly.
~

“Rider one-ninety-seven approaches the first water feature, starting with the two singles in a r-”
I remember the dark clouds that day, and the announcer’s voice cut off by the sound of the crowd’s gasps.
A hoof knocked into the solid faux wall, and sent me flying forward, with Moose following after. I land in the water, my back hitting the small rocks at the bottom of the pond.
He falls onto me with his muscular hindquarters on my chest, and I pray he is okay, even though I heard ribs crack, and feel a sharp pain in my torso.
I hear a golf cart rushing towards us, and I see out of the corner of my eye Mallory in it, along with Erica, a teammate of mine.
Moose is a large, big boned warmblood, standing at eighteen hands high, and I’ve never felt luckier when he daintily stood up, avoiding any more injuries.
“C’mon Moose,” Soft footsteps travel away from me, and the shadow above me moves away once Moose does as well. As the paramedic probed my ribs, they found I had broken two ribs and a clavicle. My body wasn’t the only thing injured. At that time, I had lost all sense of safety when on the cross country course.
~
I haven’t shown in cross country since then, after recovering, I only schooled in preparation for The Event at Rebecca Farms, where I am now.
Landing after a ditch brings me out of my thoughts, and as I turn the corner approaching a brush fence, I can see the second water feature in the distance. There’s a moment of controlled impulsion before Moose tucks his feet in and heaves himself over the jump.
“Arabella Evans approaches the second water obstacle. With her clear round in show jumping and score in dressage of 23.7, so if she keeps this speed, she could be in the running for a spot for medalling!”
The thing is, with so much cheering and so many distractions, it’s easy for rookies to freak out, and cause their horse to freak out. You have to learn to block it all out, it’s only you and the horse.
With wind rushing through my ears, Moose’s hooves on the patted down grass, I felt at home. There was no knot in my stomach as we came up to the last jump, I had faced my only fear.
Shaking his head out, my gelding practically pranced to the finish line, and I laughed along with him. My trainer and family were there, seemingly more proud than I was.
As I stand with flashing cameras in front of me, a tricolored ribbon on Moose’s halter, with a sunny, Montana sky behind me, I look back to last summer.
Was it worth it, wasting precious time of my riding career because of one mistake? There’s nothing you can be afraid of while riding.
You mess up often, and you work hard to fix your mistakes
You fall, and you get back on.
You intend to improve your dressage score, get a faster cross country time, and you work to make a clear show jumping round perfect.
Nothing should come in between you and your dream.