When I was kid in elementary school, I used to draw horses. And trust me—I was not a gifted artist. But on the inside of every notebook, on the margins of math tests and the errant post-it note; horses were popping up everywhere. They weren’t the horses I knew, but the horses I hoped to know.

I was a scrappy short-stirrup rider who refused to count strides and had never been to a jumper show, but I would draw my fantasy grand prix horses, soaring over wide square oxers.