I was six years old when I was diagnosed with a benign hemangioma tumor in my left thigh muscle (rectus femoris, for any of my healthcare friends reading this). While not immediately life-threatening, this tumor would cause nerve pain and inflammation with too much weight-bearing activity. That meant I couldn’t play the same way that a lot of kids could, since running, falling, and getting hit with a stray ball were a much bigger risk. Recess for me was spent in the library rather than on the kickball blacktop.
Eventually, on the recommendation of a physical therapist (who also convinced my mom to buy me a Nintendo Wii console so she is truly my hero for many reasons), I ended up on the back of a horse. Like most little girls, I immediately fell in love with riding and being at the barn. It was also a place I could keep up with physically, for the most part, which was a novel experience. Horses became my legs, letting me experience the joy of moving freely.
I was 16 when medical advancements and years of treatments made it possible to have my tumor removed. I took a little break from horses to explore all the new things life now had to offer me, but like most “horse girls” I never really shook that love. I found my way back to horses in college while attending George Mason University, which offered me the chance to compete in the Intercollegiate Horse Showing Association, as well as being a great outlet for all that academic stress and pressure.
Volunteering (and eventually coming on as a full-time staff member) at Healing Strides really brought all the puzzle pieces together for me in my life. I was new in town and looking for a community, and what I found was truly more than I could have ever asked for. This place brought people together, connected by a mutual respect for these amazing animals and riding sport as a whole, and made us all better at the end of the day.
The firm belief that every single person can benefit from being around horses, no matter their background or skill level or diagnosis, suffuses every corner of this place and radiates outwards. Everyone is valued for what they bring to the table, every win is celebrated, every setback is met with stalwart support – no matter how big or small. For a lot of folks, the biggest win is just showing up. Healing Strides takes it from there.
I’m a staff member, sure, but I was a volunteer for 4 years before that. This place is a representation of everything good in the horse-human partnership: quiet patience, love that does not boast, and the joy we find in small moments of freedom. Your support means we can keep going.
