Trailblazers Championships 2026 — The Year of the What Ifs and If Only's
Trailblazers 2026.
Where to start.... This time last year, we were celebrating a fantastic Trailblazers Championship result. This year, I arrived having had to come back from six weeks out after I went through a jump wing in mid-April and damaged my ribs and Fred had had 6 weeks eating. And whilst I can't pretend that I'm not still seething and exceptionally angry at the idiot who repositioned the bloody fence, I have to accept the responsibility of not going with my gut and realising that an idiot had helpfully repositioned a jump which simply did not flow with the course. We live and learn, but it was a hard lesson for me, and unfortunately one that has cost us three Championships this year. That's a difficult thing to swallow, but it could have been so much worse. We're both here, we're both sound and we're both able to carry on doing what we love together. And that is all that really matters.
I also know we worked incredibly hard to try and get ourselves back to where we'd been before the fall. To when I felt we could actually have been a challenger at the champs, but I know now that going from scratch in nine to ten weeks simply wasn't enough time. We just needed longer. Looking back since arriving home, I realised I normally take around 20 weeks to bring Fred back properly from his annual holiday and that is normally A LOT shorter than this enforced four-week break and two weeks where I was only able to sit on him and do light work because taking a contact hurt my ribs. That left us with just under 10 weeks And perhaps that's the biggest lesson of all - I can't compress the process just because the calendar says I need to.
So no, it wasn't the success of last year, but when I stop agonising over the "what ifs and If only's" even I have to admit that if I look at everything that happened between April and getting us to the championships at Addington, we didn't do so bad. And perhaps the most important thing I know and I want people to know is that I am always incredibly proud of my boy. And when you look at it - actually I had a lovely time if not successful. I had a great weekend with my friends Jayne and Kate, Fred was a superstar in that he was chilled and when I got on him on the Friday my words were "God I love this boy" as we just wandered with chill but activity towards the warm up arenas.
And, despite everything I'm going to dwell on in this blog, we had a lovely weekend. It just wasn't the weekend I'd hoped we'd have. The sun shone, we had a nice time away, I saw lots of friends and I got to make a new friend.
So because this blog is a record for me rather than something anyone else will ever read, I want to be completely honest about it. Including all the things that have been going around and around in my head since we got home.
The championship countdown..... and the comedy of errors...
To be fair, this year has had an almost unenviable amount of what can only be described as comedy of errors. I use the word lightly, because some of what happened was actually quite serious and life changing for other people.
Aside from the fall in April, in June we had a storm and when I opened up my trailer to check for water leakage and the ramp sheared off. Because obviously it did. Why not? 18 years of no bother....Dan rescued it and had to repair the ramp..... And then he had to repair the electrical connector on my car because that wasn't working either. Brakes but no indicators... i mean I'm not driving a BMW where indicators don't come as standard :D
Then came the journey...
Having carefully studied my route to avoid the fun twisty bit Google introduced last year, including all my strategic non motorway priced refuels, - as we trundled up the M5 there was an alert.
The M4 was shut at J15.
A quick call home to Ewen to ask for an alternative route that was actually suitable for a trailer, because Google Maps doesn't come with the handy setting for: "Please don't send me on a proper crazy wild cross-country route because I have a horse in a trailer." which was where it was trying to go.
So we stayed on the M5, went via the M42 and then the M40. Nice straight route to pick up the A43 and then turn on to the A421. 12 mins to go and we suddenly pulled up behind a couple of lorries .... and I realised a police car was coming down to shut the road.
People were coming up my inside trying to turn around, as the police car was coming at me trying to cone off the road... And then we realised the air ambulance was landing. Right next to us. In the field. And we were blocking the gate. I couldn't move.
We frantically rolled up the windows as we got a face full of field debris and I was desperately trying to work out how to move, foot on the acelerator ready to pull out at anyone, while being acutely, painfully aware of Fred behind me.
Was he OK? Was he frightened?
I was waiting for the running feet. Waiting for the rocking motion. The crazed scream. Waiting for that moment when he would tell me that this was all too much.
But Fred just stayed calm. Incredibly calm. Eating his hay to shouts of good boy.
Eventually we were able to turn around and now heading away from the direction we wanted to go in, Maps just kept instructing a U turn. And then Maps lost signal. Of course it did. It's like toast landing butter side down. What better time to go offline!
In my panic, all I could remember was that there was another turn for Buckingham up the A43, so off we went and as we travelled Google found us again. We found the A422 turn, drove through what was a very little village — and I mean narrow, not small — and eventually turned onto the A413 to get to Addington.
Obviously, the two accidents involved were terrible situations for the families involved and I'm absolutely not belittling the horrendous circumstances they were dealing with.
But after everything that had happened to us this year, I couldn't help wondering whether the universe was trying to tell me:
"This is not your year."
Finally arriving at Addington
We arrived feeling quite stressed. I felt sick from the panic but also incredibly excited. And Fred's first priority was clearly to get into his stable and have a very long-awaited wee.
Recatching my breathe and trying to turn the panic programme off and switch on function mode, I went to check in, collect my goodie bag and find out what time I could use the arena. After a hilarious radio communication that would probably work brilliantly in a comedy sketch, I was told something along the lines of: "Like 4.30–5.15."
Since I had to walk past the arenas anyway, I double checked. They said 4pm, because if nobody was there after the last rider, they'd close. So I dutifully tacked up and re-appeared at 4pm.
The arena I wanted to use was empty but when I arrived, I was told they'd missed a class and I needed to speak to the lady in blue. Unable to find a lady in blue, I had to get off and ask again and felt like a real moany competitor.
Eventually I decided/we agreed to go and ride around the field instead. And Fred was exceptionally good. There were large tents which he clearly regarded as killer mole holes with tigers inhabiting them. He grew a few hands, but he kept walking and I laughed with a few people putting up their tents that "Well he is ginger".
The ground was unfortunately rock solid, so I walked around, did a bit of trotting and called it a day.
Back to the stable to plait up. And despite all of that, I had a pretty good night's sleep away from the floodlights, on my nice camp bed - courtesy of Jane. Plus I remembered the topper which when the temperatures dropped to 7 degrees and we had open top doors was a welcome double for a duvet!
Championship day
The next day, I got Fred out to eat some grass. And at 12pm — with me due on at 1.10pm — I went back to brush out his tail ready to make him all sparkly. And discovered something that has never happened before - Freddie had rubbed out two plaits. Worse in fact - because they were sown in they were just pathetically sticking in random direction. Emergency re-plaiting ensued.
At 12.45 I rode over to the warm up arena, but Fred never really softened and I couldn't get a frame at all in any pace. It was also far from what I'd hoped for the warm up.
I was dodging Brenda the Bullet, who just charged her horse at everyone wearing the too cool for school sunglasses, Patty the Prelim who didn't really know what to do in an arena so just 'hung' about, and a couple of kids on ponies.
All to soon, I was called in.
I headed through the glorious gateway to the middle arena to find my judges still outside the box having their break. I apologised profusely. However, on the next time around they were in their box - which spooked Fred, naturally - and they rang the bell.
We went down the centre line.
Halted.
Iffily.
And then as I moved off, it was like I'd swapped my usual Ferrari for a Fiat 500 with four flat tyres and knocked it into eco mode.
Fred just never really showed up. And that has only ever happened once before at his first ever BIG event. Normally, at the big shows, he gets his shoulders up and his swagger on.
He struts.
He carries himself.
He shows he means business.
He feels like Fred.
This time. Nothing. Nada. Accelerator cable cut.
The only saving grace was A) that whilst he clocked the banners, he choose not to spook at them, and B) that however flat and crap he feels, he ALWAYS knocks out brilliant leg yields - probably because that's how we always get over for cars over the years. So we got two 7s.
I popped Fred away with carrots, naturally. And went back to the scoreboard - 62. something %.
We were 11th.
Out of the placings.
Out of the final.
And that was that.
So we commiserated with a large glass of wine, bought a photograph and sat and watched everyone else do there tests.
The What Ifs
Since arriving home, I have agonised about what I did wrong.....The questions have been constantly running through my mind.
Was he tired from the training?
Was it too intense? Had I asked too much of him because we were trying to make up for lost time?
Was he tired from the travelling?
We hadn't been anywhere for a year in the trailer. I'd meant to get him out and about during that time, but obviously the accident scuppered all my plans. Perhaps the journey and the whole experience were simply too much. He is a year older now - 15, that's officially a veteran. I had put my massage pad on him this year to help, but maybe the travelling was still a factor.
Had I kept him too trim with his diet?
Was he under-fuelled? I even spoke to the Spillers people at the show about his nutrition and exactly what I was feeding and they confirmed that I was doing everything right.
They said his body score was 5 (perfect) and they said I could afford to increase his performance mix. They explained that it normally takes around three weeks for that extra energy to really kick in.
I'd only had just over a week. Her feeling was that we'd probably just been unlucky with the circumstances. She explained that training for a big show is a bit like training for a marathon.
You build up your fitness and then, over the last couple of weeks, you ease back so that you arrive fresh. That's what we normally do. Except this year, because of the accident, we'd had to double down instead of ease up.
And then there's another question which has been playing on my mind since I schooled again yesterday, on the 19th.
Did I miss the change to the saddle?
I have a superb saddler. She's just supernatural in her ability to "know" and fix. We had had to adjust his saddle late June because he'd lost his top line muscle and muscle behind the saddle after my accident and his time off. Julia had said that the adjustment might not be for long. Had he, in those five weeks, built up enough muscle for the saddle to need adjusting again? Had I missed it? Is five weeks enough? Could that have made a difference?
And I guess the answer is that I'll probably never know. The truth is, it was likely a combination of all of those things.
Fred was fit, but perhaps he wasn't quite strong enough to hold the frame in the way he normally does. I normally take around 20 weeks to bring him back from a holiday, and we had just 10 following an enforced holiday that was much longer and much more disruptive than usual.
I was probably not quite strong enough in myself either. I hadn't had the preparation I'd wanted.
And then there was the other thing. I doubted the outcome.
The internal narrative
There is a phrase that has been going around in my head:
"Be careful about your internal narrative, because what your mouth says, your body hears."
In my head subconsciously , I wasn't sure we were ready. I knew we weren't where we had been. The 'magic' was in and out. But I hoped I'd done enough. I thought I thought we'd done enough.
And yet, when I arrived at Trailblazers, I met people I'd competed against the year before. I told them about the accident. I told them we were only just on our way back.
And now in my mind I'm wondering - Is it possible I just failed to ride positively?
Did I tell myself the story before I even got in the arena? I had another friend's example in my mind.
She came second one year. She returned the following year and was nowhere. Then she went back for the third year and won.
Had I somehow told myself that this was going to be my fate too? That this year was the difficult year, and next year would be our year? Maybe. I honestly don't know.
And then I turn that thought into another reason to beat myself up. Another thing I got wrong.
Because the reality is that I did know we weren't where we'd been. I knew the preparation had been compromised. I knew we'd had to rush the rebuilding process. I just hoped that what we'd done would be enough. I perhaps kidded myself it was. Just to scrape 10th. That Fred would show up, like he always did with his swagger, and save us.
But here's the thing...
The hardest thing now is parking all the What Ifs and If Only's and focussing on next year. Because the truth is, I won't ever know exactly why Fred didn't produce the test I know he can. It is likely that it was all of it.
But there is another truth. We actually had a lovely time. I had a great weekend with my friends Jayne and Kate. Fred was a superstar. And when I got on him on Friday and we just wandered off towards the warm-up arenas with absolutely no drama, my words were:
"Whatever Happens, goodness, I love this boy."
And I do. I absolutely adore him.
He loaded, travelled, coped with the air ambulance, coped with the killer mole holes and coped with all the excitement beautifully.
He went into that arena and, even when he didn't have the strength or energy to produce the performance I wanted, he still did the things he knows. He still gave me those lovely leg yields. He still stayed with me. He gave me everything he was capable of at that time. And that is worth his weight in gold and some
What I have learned
This year has taught me some pretty big lessons.
Trust my gut - If something doesn't flow, don't assume I'm imagining it.
Don't rush the process - Twenty weeks is twenty weeks for a reason. You can't necessarily turn ten weeks into twenty just because the Championships are already booked.
Fitness isn't the same as strength - Fred could be fit enough to work without necessarily having rebuilt all the strength he needed to carry himself properly.
Preparation matters - And sometimes circumstances mean you simply don't get the preparation you wanted.
Believe in us - I need to be careful about the story I tell myself before I even get into the arena. But equally, I need to recognise the difference between positive thinking and pretending we're more prepared than we actually are.
And perhaps most importantly...
One result does not define the journey.
This wasn't the ending we'd hoped for. But we got there. We came back from the fall. We rebuilt. We travelled. We competed. We had a weekend away with friends. We made memories. And we're both here to tell the tale.
I'm incredibly proud of Fred.
And whilst I find it hard to consider, my friends tell me i should be pretty proud of myself too. Because picking yourself up after a nasty fall — physically and mentally — isn't always easy.
We got ourselves back into a Championship arena. It just turned out that we needed more time. And that's OK.
And at least we looked the part!
Perhaps also in my head was all the gear and no idea. For the first time in my life, I wasn't just appropriately turned out but super smart.
I finally have a pair of grown-up-person long riding boots. I was wearing WHITE jodhpurs and WHITE gloves. I even wore a sparkly white stock and a posh sparkly hairnet to make us look smart.
Fred was given an upgrade too! He had a beautifully sparkly new browband from Aunty Jane - the one I always wanted the sort of soft V shaped Dressage sparkly. He had fancy new Henry James reins from Aunty Jayne And I had even chalked his socks to be super white.
So, frankly, if nothing else, we absolutely looked like we belonged there. Even if the test was a shocker 😂✨ We finished in 15th.
Now, we'll start working towards next year. I'm not going to decide today exactly what went wrong.
Maybe I'll never know. But I can learn from all of it.
And perhaps, in a few months' time, I'll look back at this blog and understand it all a little better.
For now, I just know one thing.
I am incredibly proud of you, Freddie.
You are a superstar.
And next year?
Next year will be our year. ❤️
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