The Belgian Chapter: Dust, Dreams, and a Broken Back

Shortly after summer began, I packed my life and moved to Belgium. I settled in a town called Enghien, about 5 kilometers away from the stable in Herne. Being underage and without a car, my daily commute was a 10 km round trip on a bicycle—come rain or shine—to my job as an Assistant Trainer.

One of my favorites, CJ

My days were filled with the raw energy of young horses. My responsibility was a rotating roster of youngsters: some just being introduced to the saddle, others recently started. When the head trainer, Perinne, was away on holiday, the workload peaked. I found myself, a young girl from Finland, riding over a dozen horses a day and overseeing the entire yard. While the owner, Dimitri, handled the heavy lifting like mucking out, everything else—from grooming and turnout to training, health, and feeding—rested on my shoulders.

Learning the Craft

I was exhausted, but I was happy. I was learning exactly what I had dreamed of, and Perinne was an incredible mentor. The days were long, and my distance learning for high school admittedly took a backseat, but nothing mattered more to me than the art of starting reining horses. I felt lonely during the evenings, when bicycling back home, but too tired to care. I was living the dream...

Best view! Me and Stara my horse who I took with me to Belgium and sold to a super home!

The Turning Point

However, my Belgian dream was cut short after only six months. During a session with a young stallion, I suffered a severe back injury. The pain was undeniable for weeks (months) and I had to make the heartbreaking decision to return to Finland for more medical examinations. I traveled home to face the reality of my diagnosis: multiple herniated discs and a long hiatus from competitive riding.

Finding the Silver Lining

Returning home felt like watching my dreams crumble in real-time. Ahead of me lay a grueling rehabilitation process and the crushing weight of "what ifs." But even in the darkest moments of recovery, I wasn't alone. Waiting for me at home was the best "muzzle therapy" I could ask for: my dear Charley, who I left to my mothers care.

Sometimes the path to our dreams takes a detour, and right now, mine is focused on healing—one day at a time. Somedays it felt like we were healing together, at least Charley really listened to me. Baby steps, back in the saddle, putting up new goals, heading to new dreams.

From that time, I have great friends, super memories, lots of new skills, self confidence and the best distance coach to contact when I have doubts.