When Alysa smiles on the ice, you can’t help but gaze back and smile too. It’s not just about the technicality of her performance or her graceful jumps. It’s the joy.

You can tell she loves being there. And it would be the same performance whether or not she had a crowd watching. 

For ice skaters, there is a place where blades carve stories into freshly groomed ice. Where speed feels like freedom. Where flying only requires the courage to leap. 

We share the same arena. 

For equestrians, there’s a place where mere humans stand 10 feet tall. Where children really are raised in barns, and to fly, all you have to do is put your heels down. We don’t measure our success with ribbons and bows, but rather in inches and feel. We show up consistently because we love horses deeply. 

When we show, we show to feel power. We show to feel joy. 

Alysa’s story isn’t about athletic achievement. It’s about autonomy and bringing back the joy of it all. It’s about redefining what success means, stepping away and coming back on your own terms. It’s a real-world example of showing up unfiltered and honest. 

Here’s what equestrians can learn from her journey.

“Winning” on Your Own Terms

At 16, Alysa Liu walked away from figure skating.
At the height of her success.
After becoming a national champion.
With the world watching.

Why?

Because she was disillusioned by the system. By the pressure. By the way she was being trained. Somewhere along the way, the joy had faded.

So she chose herself.

Years later, she returned, not to prove anyone wrong, not to chase validation but to reclaim the sport on her terms. She restructured her training. She took ownership. She made space for joy again.

And then?

She made history, becoming the first American woman in over two decades to win a major international gold in women’s figure skating.

But here’s the thing, the real victory wasn’t the medal.

It was the autonomy.

What This Means for Riders

In the equestrian world, winning often equates to ribbons, championships, qualifying scores, and year-end awards.

But sometimes winning looks like:

• Choosing a trainer who aligns with your values
• Moving up a division when you feel ready
• Not showing because you don’t feel well 
• Staying at a level longer to build confidence
• Taking a break when burnout creeps in
• Saying no to pressure that doesn’t feel right

I keep seeing social media posts that push riders to “do it tired, do it alone, do it broken.” While I understand the underlying message is meant to be positive, it makes me feel out of place because I don’t want to show up that way. I’ve made that mistake and had to learn hard life lessons from it. There are times when I am too tired and shouldn’t ride. There are times where I need support and ask for help from my trainer. That’s me choosing to put myself and my horse above everything else.

Instead of “doing it this way or that way” — do it your way.

Define what winning means to you. It’s your choice to make. 

No friendship compares to the one that starts with sportsmanship

If you watch Alysa Liu closely, you’ll notice something else, she shows up for her competitors.

She cheers. She smiles. She celebrates others’ success.

That’s community. 

Equestrian sports can be intensely individual. You’re responsible for your ride. Your horse. Your results. But we don’t compete in isolation. We share warm-up rings. We share barns. We share long show days.

How you show up affects culture.

At the Barn, Winning Looks Like:

• Clapping when your barn mate nails her round
  
• Offering a hand in the schooling ring
  
• Supporting a junior rider who’s nervous
  
• Being grateful in both victory and disappointment
  
• Celebrating someone else’s championship as loudly as your own

When we see Alysa’s joy, it’s contagious. We feel the same way about some of our own barn mates. When you’re around them, you can’t help but feel happy. After all, you’re both in your happy place.

In the equestrian world, leadership doesn’t take much. It’s a series of simple acts that lift each other up.

It Was Never Just About the Medal 

It was about the journey.

“The journey,” Liu said. “I love it. I love it.”

That’s it.

Alysa Liu began to change the narrative of her life when she stepped away and came back refreshed — with more ways to showcase her art and her ideas. She didn’t just return to skate. She returned differently.

I personally grew up creating art outside of the barn. My art instructors always told me to “step away from your art to gain a new perspective. You'll come back to it with new ideas.”

I feel the same way about gaining perspective within the equestrian world. It’s healthy to ride in a clinic with a new trainer, go to a new show, and see how others prioritize horsemanship. It’s important to step away and come back — in whatever shape or form that means to you. And sometimes we don’t always have the luxury of a full reset with the responsibilities we carry. So step away, even if it’s just for a few hours.

On the surface, it appears we’re all on a similar journey. But the journey looks different for everyone. For equestrians, it’s not always linear. It’s not always filled with daily joy.

We ride in a sport that asks for everything from us — our time, money, emotions, vulnerability, and resilience. There are expectations everywhere. Instead of trying to meet everyone else’s expectations, we have to define and share our own values.

Because riding has always been about the long road. It’s always been about learning and growing as individuals while continuing to put horsemanship first.

Alysa didn’t just win because she came back stronger.
She won because she came back aligned.

Aligned with her values.
Aligned with her joy.

So I want to pose a question to you: When you consider your values, what are they in your daily life with horses? Is it making sure you have a positive ride? Is it simply finding joy in the small moments?

It’s a powerful exercise to visit, or revisit,every now and then. Share those values with the people you ride with. Remind yourself that your values can shift and change over time. But the one thing that should remain constant is joy.

The same joy you saw when Alysa stepped onto the ice.

If it’s not there, it’s okay to take a step back and return when you’re ready.

Because when you truly love the journey, the result becomes a byproduct.

You’re in it because you love it.
You’re in it because it brings you joy.

And that’s why you ride. 

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