I Wish It Were Closer

I see this comment a lot when I post clinics.

“I wish this was closer.”

And I get it. Truly. Distance is real. Time is real. Life is full. Fuel is expensive. Horses need care. Kids need rides. Jobs don’t pause just because you want to go learn something new.

So let me say this first:
There is no judgment in acknowledging that reality.

But I want to talk about what that phrase usually means — because it’s rarely just about miles.

Most of the time, “I wish it was closer” really translates to something more honest, like:

• I want this, but not enough right now to rearrange my life
• This season is already full
• I’m not sure I’m ready to invest yet
• I’m nervous about putting myself out there

And all of that is okay.

What doesn’t sit right with me — and what I think is worth talking about — is when distance becomes the thing we blame, instead of a choice we own.

Because here’s the truth most people don’t see from the outside:

I rearrange my life constantly.

When I haul to teach a clinic, I’m not popping down the road. I’m often driving 7, 12, 18, sometimes 20 hours one way. I’m reorganizing my training schedule, my horses, my family logistics, my body, my energy — all to show up fully present for the riders who chose to be there.

And I’ve done the same thing as a student.

I’ve driven long, uncomfortable hours to ride with clinicians I believed would make me better. I’ve slept poorly, eaten terribly, spent money I had to think twice about — not because it was convenient, but because it mattered.

Not because it was close.
Because it was important.

That doesn’t make me better than anyone else.
But it does reflect a decision.

And that’s the part I think we do ourselves a disservice by avoiding.

Growth — real growth — almost always requires temporary discomfort. It requires rearranging your life for a moment in service of something bigger. It asks you to say “yes” to something that isn’t perfectly lined up or easy.

If this isn’t your season for that, there’s nothing wrong with saying:

“This looks great, but it’s not my priority right now.”

That’s honest. That’s grounded. That’s owning the choice.

What I don’t want is for riders to quietly believe that they’re being held back by geography, when what’s really happening is they’re waiting for the stars to align before they give themselves permission to grow.

They rarely do.

The riders who show up — the ones who haul in early, unload tired, sleep in their pickups, and swing a leg over anyway — those are the ones who leave changed. Not because of me, but because they chose commitment over convenience.

So if you ever see one of my clinics and think, “I wish this was closer,” know this:

I understand.
I really do.

And if one day it lines up* — if you decide it’s worth rearranging things for — I’ll be there too. Probably after a very long drive.

*I travel a lot to teach, and new locations often come from riders or barn owners asking about hosting. If you’d love a clinic closer to home, check my current schedule or reach out about hosting — I’m always happy to talk through what that looks like.

Happy Riding!