Why “If You Ain’t First, You’re Last” Is a Mindset I'm Trying to Outgrow

Too competitive?

I’ve always been competitive. Like, deeply competitive. The kind of competitive that makes second place feel like failure. Not because I don’t respect the accomplishment, but because I know how close I came to winning… and didn’t.

In horseback riding, the stakes feel even higher. You’re not just competing against a clock or a scorecard, you’re riding a 1,200-pound athlete who, like you, has good days and bad days. But we’re taught in this sport that it's simple: It's never the horse's fault. No matter what happens in the ring, the responsibility falls on the rider.

That mindset drilled into me for years, that I should’ve done more, seen it coming, corrected it sooner, has shaped how I view every single round. Even if my horse spooks or chips a distance, I look inward: What could I have done differently? Could I have added more leg? Supported more through the turn? Kept my rhythm more consistent? The answer is usually “yes,” and that self-awareness is important. But sometimes, it turns into self-blame. And that’s where things get tough.

Because horses are athletes too. They have off days. They get distracted. They react to their environment, just like we do. And no matter how well I prepare, how fit or focused we are, I can’t control everything. That’s part of the beauty, and the challenge of this sport.

But when something small goes wrong (a rail, a deep distance, a slightly wide turn) I spiral. I hyperanalyze. I think about the one moment where, if I had added just a little more leg or made a slightly bolder decision, I could’ve shaved that millisecond off. And that millisecond might have meant the difference between second and first.

And that’s the part that hits the hardest. Because I don’t just want to do well. I want to win.

The Ricky Bobby Mindset

I once watched Talladega Nights, and while the movie’s ridiculous in the best way, there’s one line that’s always stuck with me: “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” And for some reason, that became my mindset. So much so that I usually quote it after a round where I rode exceptionally, but didn't win.

But when you’re consistently competing against a field of 60+ riders, “first” becomes a rare and difficult goal. And anything less starts to feel like failure. The irony is, a second or third place finish means you were right there. It should be something to celebrate. But instead, I find myself frustrated—haunted by the “almost.”

Sometimes, I’d rather not be in the ribbons at all. Because at least then, I can chalk it up to a bigger mistake, a bigger gap, a clear reason why it wasn’t my day. But finishing just behind the winner makes me question everything: Did I miss an opportunity? Did I cost myself the win?

I am lucky enough to say that winning is not uncommon for me. As a matter of fact, it has become an expectation from my trainer and from myself. I have a horse with the ability to win, and when him and I are on top of our game, we usually come out on top. This is why when we don't, I feel like I have let everyone down; my trainer who dedicates time and effort into my success, my parents who financially support me, and my horse who tries his hardest no matter what.

What did I do wrong to stop us from winning.

Shifting the Focus

What I’m working on now is this: learning to compete against myself, not just the field. When I shift the focus from "Did I win?" to "Did I improve?", I find a lot more to be proud of.

If I rode a smarter track, kept my composure under pressure, or nailed that one inside turn I’ve been working on, then that round was a win for me, regardless of the results. If I can look at the winning round and see how close I was, and more importantly, how far I’ve come, then second place doesn’t sting quite as much.

No one gets to the top without learning how to lose. No one truly understands the meaning of success without tasting failure along the way. And while I love my competitive edge, I also know that it can become toxic if I don’t keep it in check. I’m still learning how to hold myself to a high standard without punishing myself when I fall short.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, I am incredibly lucky. I get to do this with a horse I trust, love, and get better with every day. That alone is a privilege many people never get to experience. So if we give our best and don’t come out on top, I can live with that. We’ll come back stronger next time.

Winning will always be the goal, I am trying to not let it be the only thing I value. My growth, my partnership with my horse, and the quiet confidence that I’m doing the work… those matter too. When I remember that, it makes the wins even sweeter.