Sally Mellish shares her story about her life growing up riding horses. When her physical conditions meant that riding was no longer an option, she became aware of the lack of representation that is present on social media of non-ridden equestrians. This, compared with the stigma that can be associated in creating an alternative form of work for her horses, meant that she has had to overcome adversity in order to create her own peace within the lives of both herself and her horses.
Finding Peace as a Non-Ridden Equestrian
Horses have been part of my life since the day I was born. Growing up on a farm, I spent over 30 years surrounded by horses. For me, riding was just part of life; we bred horses both to work and to ride. My earliest memory of riding goes back to when I was 10, and I was excited to start what I thought would be a lifelong journey on horseback. I had no idea that later in life, I’d be forced to consider giving up riding. Back then, the equestrian world was simpler—no one questioned your choices, whether you rode or not. But in recent years, I’ve had to navigate a path marked by judgment and misunderstanding, both online and off. This is my story of embracing the role of a non-ridden equestrian and overcoming the stigma that comes with it.
In 2019, I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis and osteoporosis. My bones had become fragile, and doctors warned that riding could leave me with permanent injuries. Still, I continued riding up until 2023, when a serious accident changed everything. My horse spooked unexpectedly, throwing me to the ground and leaving me with three fractures in my spine, one in my hip, and two severe breaks in my wrist. This was the first time in all my years of riding that I’d sustained such a serious injury. During my recovery, family and doctors alike urged me to stop riding to avoid further, possibly irreversible, harm.
After months in a cast and countless conversations with my family, I knew I had to make a choice: keep riding and risk more accidents, or prioritize my health and retire my beloved horse from riding. Although it was heartbreaking to sell my riding gear, I ultimately knew that this decision was best for both of us. He was 13 years old, the same age I’d retired his mother, and I could tell he was ready for a quieter life, just as I was. From that point forward, I became a non-ridden equestrian.
However, the transition wasn’t easy. I was surrounded by people who didn’t understand my decision. At the yard where I kept my horse, other riders questioned why I even kept him if I wasn’t going to ride. Their negative comments made me doubt myself, and I briefly considered walking away from horses altogether. But horses had been part of my life since birth, and I couldn’t imagine leaving them behind. So, I sought out others in the same position and found a supportive community of non-ridden equestrians.
Leaving the yard gave me the space to focus on groundwork with my horse. Though my condition wasn’t improving, I refused to let anyone’s opinion diminish my love for horses. I realized that the criticism I faced from other riders wasn’t just personal—it was part of a larger, unspoken divide between ridden and non-ridden equestrians. The judgment also extended to social media, where I received messages from people who simply couldn’t understand my choice. I couldn’t understand why this mattered to others—shouldn’t we each have the freedom to choose how we interact with our horses? In the end, I decided to ignore the negative comments and focused on what truly mattered: my health and my horse’s happiness.
Since then, I’ve dedicated my social media platform to representing non-ridden equestrians and showing that there’s more to horse ownership than riding. With the support of others who understand, I’ve helped build a community that educates and supports those who can’t or choose not to ride. We encourage people to enjoy their horses in any way that feels right, whether that’s through riding or connecting from the ground. While I sometimes feel a pang of regret watching others ride, I’m reassured when I look at my own horse, knowing he’s living a happy, relaxed life.
Despite the support I’ve found, the non-ridden equestrian community still often goes unrecognized. Social media platforms and equestrian businesses still overlook us, treating riding as the only legitimate way to enjoy horses. But the value of being a non-ridden equestrian should be acknowledged. I’ve put my heart into caring for my horses, and I’ve achieved so much more through groundwork than I ever expected.
The stigma against non-ridden equestrians needs to change, both in person and online. We are equestrians, too. From day one, I was taught the principles of horse ownership: love, care, trust, and respect. These values don’t depend on being in the saddle. Whether ridden or non-ridden, all of us start by building a bond from the ground. And maybe, in the end, that’s what really matters.