How The Losers Inspire Us All

Through my work as a writer, I have been fortunate to encounter equestrians and horses who have overcome great odds to achieve some measure of success. I love telling these stories and take my responsibility as their curator seriously; sometimes the obstacles overcome are deeply personal or downright cruel, others the result of nothing more than fate or circumstances or luck (and whether luck is good or bad, it seems, is only known to the mind of the beholder). I try to write the truth of someone else’s lived experience with humility, compassion and respect for their willingness to share a piece of that life with a broader audience.

At the same time, these stories practically write themselves. When I was working on my M.F.A., an instructor shared his secret for writing compelling profiles: choose a subject who is “a loser with a dream on a quest.” I know the word “loser” could be interpreted with a negative connotation, but read it in this context as simply being the opposite of “winner”. As in, life has kicked them around a bit and other people in the same circumstances might justifiably have chosen to give up. As in, there are an awful lot of them out there, because in most contests (literal or figurative), there is only one winner.

Think about it. This formula is pervasive throughout popular literature and film. The entire Harry Potter series is essentially about a loser (an orphan whose adopted family scorns him) with a dream (to become a great wizard) on a quest (to defeat Voldemort). For a fictional horsey example, the movie Hidalgo (extremely loosely based on the life of Frank Hopkins, a real person whose real life story is a matter of debate) tells the story of a disgraced, mixed-race cowboy in turn of the century America (definitely a loser) with a dream (to save a herd of mustangs) on a quest (to win a long distance horse race). Bonus points here because the quest is literal (as it also is in the Lord of the Rings, with protagonist Frodo and his friends taking three rather lengthy books/movies to finally arrive at Mt. Doom).

We look for these “losers with a dream on a quest” in real life, too.

For a stunning example, recall the story of Seabiscuit, a cranky, nondescript, poorly conformed Thoroughbred racehorse whose shy trainer, Tom Smith, was shunned for his unorthodox methods; whose jockey, Red Pollard, was a semi-blind immigrant and whose owner, Charles S. Howard, was a successful entrepreneur whose ticket to riches (the automobile) also caused the death of his son. When this hardscrabble horse defeated regally bred champions like War Admiral in the late 1930’s, his success inspired a beleaguered nation, its citizens desperate for joy in the aftermath of the Great Depression.

Seabiscuit with jockey Red Pollard. Image courtesy of Seabiscuit Heritage Foundation and released to public domain.

In 2001, Seabiscuit’s story enjoyed a renaissance with the release of Laura Hillenbrand’s New York Times’ best-selling book. Not only did the written narrative garner too many awards to list, in 2003 it was turned into an Academy Award nominated feature film that grossed $148.3 million at the box office. (Laura Hillenbrand herself could also qualify as a loser with a dream…read this amazing essay to learn more about her own journey).

To reach such broad popularity, obviously the story of Seabiscuit resonated with a wider audience than just the horse-loving public. On its surface, Seabiscuit is a cool story about a successful racehorse. But really, it is much more than that—it is a classic underdog story, and it is as much about the people surrounding the horse as it is about the horse himself.  

I think the reason for this appeal is that, each in our own ways, most of us see ourselves as losers. I know I do. Every single day, there is a tape that plays in my brain telling me that I am not good enough. It tells me that I will never be enough of a trainer to start not one but two young horses. It tells me that I will never successfully pitch my book, land an agent, and see the project through to completion. It tells me that there is always someone out there who is better at what I do than I am, and because of that, maybe I shouldn’t even bother to try.

In these dark days of winter, approaching the start of pandemic year two, that voice has been exceptionally loud.

Perhaps it is in these times especially that we most need our underdog stories— stories about losers who are so often just regular people, people like you and I, who faced adversity in whatever form but had the strength, determination and grit to persevere. People who had a dream, whether a seemingly simple one or maybe one so big and crazy that they were embarrassed to share it out loud, and yet who still took those small steps along the path to making that big and crazy dream a reality. Sometimes the path led them exactly where they hoped it would. Sometimes it didn’t. But the point is that despite the negative, the dark, that d**m voice in all of our heads whispering this is not possible, these underdogs kept shuffling, limping or crawling their way forward. And in their own ways, they prevailed.

I tend to think that underdogs are not the exception among us, but the rule, and that underdog stories are about normal people able to push past the resistance that slows each of us down. Underdog stories will always be popular because they appeal to the loser living inside each of us, the one who needs to be reminded that (in the words of the late, great Tom Petty) “even the losers get lucky sometimes.” But with all due respect to Mr. Petty, I don’t think underdogs ever prevail due to luck alone. Somewhere along the way, they turned obstacles into opportunities and adversity into strength, and told their inner critic to take a long walk off a short pier.

Here are some of my favorite underdog stories I’ve written from the past year or so:

Quinlan Shows Us How to Lose our Leathers, No Matter the Obstacles

Learning to Trust Gave Satin’s Angel Her Wings

Back from the Brink: Kilkenny Cairo Heals at her Home on the Range

From $400 Racetrack Reject to Hampton Classic Tricolor

Author’s note: The cover image is of Seabiscuit winning the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap with Red Pollard up. You can watch the race here.

Defining Excellence in a New Year

Ah, the New Year. While there is nothing inherently special in the change of a calendar number, there is perhaps a certain logic in taking a few moments to reflect on the year that was and the year yet to come. Particularly here in the northeast, the New Year ushers in the height of winter, a time when even Mother Nature herself is primarily hibernating, resting and still. It is a time when many of us instinctively turn inward.

I believe that it is impossible—and perhaps irresponsible—to come out of the experience that was 2020 without a greater appreciation for all of the many positive elements in our lives, and to carry this perspective with us into the future. For me, I believe one of 2020’s greatest lessons was in being reminded that reshaping goals to suit your individual circumstances is not a form of failure. In fact, it may be a mark of “excellence”.

Anna on a wintry day at High Knoll Equestrian center, several years ago.

I recently came across a column titled “Defining Excellence” that originally ran in the October 2016 issue of Dressage Today, written by Dr. Jenny Susser, a sports psychologist. Particularly on the cusp of a new year, in an era of continued long-term uncertainty, her thoughts really resonated with me.

“What is excellence?” Dr. Susser asks. “Many of us see excellence as a distant, intangible phenomenon reserved for someone else…something that has nothing to do with us as individuals…I believe that we are all excellent, not just periodically or on a special occasion, but daily.”

This is a strange winter for me, because it marks the first time in over twenty years that I have not stabled or had access to an indoor arena to keep my horses in work. Even stranger, to not go indoors was a deliberate and conscious choice, made for many valid reasons (pandemic, finances, horse needed a break). But despite the logic behind it, for the first several weeks after the ground froze and ice and snow made hacking unpleasant and the horses were truly on vacation for the foreseeable future, I found myself feeling extremely unsettled. I saw photos and videos on social media of friends and acquaintances schooling, training and even competing. I saw snowbird equestrians prepping for their southern migration, and those who have already permanently moved to more temperate climates fairly reveling in that choice.  And I thought to myself—I want to be doing that. I am just wasting time right now. I will never get to where I want to go if I take all these months off.

Oh, for some lovely summer days right about now…

“If you are spending a lot of energy comparing yourself, your horse, your progress, your ability or your results to anyone else, that is basically swimming in someone else’s lane,” says Dr. Susser, who was a competitive swimmer. “Staying in yours is a way of sticking to your strengths, minimizing your weaknesses and performing to plan.

Ride your own ride. This is a mantra I share with students all the time. But I need to give myself permission to practice this philosophy when it comes to my own goals. The progress I make must be measured against only one metric—my own. Are my horses and I doing a little better than the week before? The day before? Do we finish the day’s activity—whether it is a ride or groundwork session or even just grooming on the crossties—safe, happy and relaxed? Is my horse better off after my interaction with her than she was before it?

Lee and Anna on trail. It was an excellent ride.

“Excellence is not only relative but is highly personal,” writes Dr. Susser. “Sadly, this sentiment is not typically embraced, especially in our dressage culture, where nothing ever seems to be good enough. If you think about it, we see excellence every day but perhaps miss the opportunity to celebrate because we are stuck on a definition of excellence that seems like it will forever exclude us.”

A new frame: My choice to give all of my mares the winter off is one of excellence. Rest gives bodies and minds time to heal and recover from the micro and macro stresses of harder work. Rest gives a break from the routine of work, which can sometimes become too stagnant or repetitive. In preparing for a distance ride, the rest days are as important as the conditioning days, if not more so. Rest is part of a plan to achieve excellence not just in the present moment but in the future as well.

“…if we begin to move our measure of excellence to ourselves, then something becomes possible,” says Dr. Susser. “Create lots of ways to assess your excellence and make them highly personal and relative to you, your horse and your goals.”

One of the best parts of the day is hanging out with the horses while the sun rises over their breakfast.

Looking forward into a new year, I am going to strive to keep this as my main objective: to achieve excellence every day. Excellence is achieved in small details, in making gradual progress toward larger objectives, and yes, in tangible outcomes such as competitive success as well. But perhaps the best mark of excellence is returning a relaxed horse to the paddock after a satisfying work set—and knowing that both horse and rider will be excited to do it all again the next day.