The Aging Active Rider Movement: An Interview with Deb Purdy

 

The Aging Active Rider Movement: An Interview with Deb Purdy
By Gina McKnight

Archived from the May 2026 Issue of Florida Equine Athlete

No Duplication Without Permission.
 
Most riders talk about staying in the saddle for life. Deb Purdy is one of the few actually building a movement around it. As the force behind The Aging Active RiderMovement, she’s challenging the quiet assumption that growing older means slowing down—or stepping away from the horse altogether. Instead, Deb is rewriting the script: longevity in the saddle isn’t just possible, it’s powerful.
 
In this conversation, she opens up about the mindset shifts, training approaches, and community support that help riders stay confident, capable, and connected to the sport they love. Whether you’re a lifelong equestrian or someone rediscovering riding later in life, Deb’s perspective will make you rethink what’s possible.
 
Welcome, Deb!
 
GM: What is your earliest memory with horses, and how did those early experiences shape the horsewoman you are today?
DP: My earliest memory of falling in love with horses traces back to a simple, meaningful gift from my grandmother: a copy of Black Beauty. She didn’t just give me the book—she sat with me and helped me learn how to read it. Page by page, story by story, she opened a door not only to literacy, but to a deep emotional connection with horses that would shape my life.

My grandmother was a steady, loving presence in my childhood. She filled our days with small adventures—trips for ice cream, outings to the lake, and moments that felt both ordinary and magical. But one day, she took us to visit a family friend whose mare had just given birth to a foal. That visit would quietly change everything.

I was completely captivated by the baby horse. There was something about its innocence, its curiosity, and the way it seemed to connect with me so naturally. The foal followed me everywhere, step for step, as if we already belonged to one another. In that moment, something settled deep in my heart.

Of course, like any child filled with wonder and certainty, I turned to my grandmother and pleaded, “Grandma, Grandma, please—can we have a horse?” She didn’t dismiss the dream. Instead, she nurtured it in the most practical and generous way she could—by enrolling me in riding lessons.

I still remember the name of my very first lesson horse: Rowdy. That name, that horse, and those early rides became the foundation of a lifelong passion. It wasn’t just about learning to ride—it was about connection, trust, and the quiet understanding between human and horse.

Looking back, I can see how those moments—reading Black Beauty beside my grandmother, standing in a field with a newborn foal, and climbing onto Rowdy for the first time—wove together to form the beginning of a lifelong love. It didn’t arrive all at once; it unfolded gently, guided by the care of someone who recognized the spark and chose to protect it.

That is where my love of horses began—not just with horses themselves, but with connection, encouragement, and the belief that dreams, when nurtured, have a way of growing into something enduring and profound.
 
GM: Who were the most influential horses in your life, and what lessons did each of them teach you?
DP: The most influential horse in my life was Rowdy, the very first horse I ever rode. Rowdy was, in every sense, a saintly soul—steady, kind, and deeply attuned to the needs of a young rider. He carried what I often think of as a quiet “angel” presence, especially around children. From the very beginning, I felt safe with him, and that sense of security allowed something far more meaningful to take root.

In those early lessons, a bond began to form. It didn’t take long before instructors trusted me to ride Rowdy on my own in the arena, a reflection not only of his reliability but of the connection we were building together. For a young child, that independence felt profound. I wasn’t just learning how to ride; I was learning how to communicate, to trust, and to be present with another being.

Like many children who fall in love with a horse, I dreamed of calling Rowdy my own. I took on babysitting jobs with determination, saving what I could in hopes of one day buying him. Though I was never able to raise enough money, that experience taught me something important about dedication, longing, and the depth of connection a horse can inspire.

The next influential horse in my life was Andy, a palomino my family purchased for me. Much like Rowdy, Andy had a gentle nature and a natural affinity for children. He was patient, kind, and willing—qualities that made him not just a horse, but a partner. We spent countless hours together, and through that time, our connection deepened into a true partnership.

Rowdy and Andy were the foundation of everything that followed. Both horses possessed a remarkable ability to connect with young riders, and through them, I experienced the beginnings of what would become a lifelong passion. They taught me that horsemanship is not simply about skill or technique—it is about relationship. It is about trust, mutual respect, and the quiet, powerful bond that forms between horse and rider.

I consider myself incredibly fortunate that my earliest experiences were shaped by horses who embodied such kindness and generosity of spirit. They didn’t just teach me how to ride—they showed me what it means to build a friendship with a horse, and in doing so, they set the course for a lifetime devoted to that connection.
 
GM: Was there a defining moment when you realized horses would be a passion rather than just a hobby?
DP: Rowdy and Andy were my first two loves, and they laid the emotional foundation for everything that followed. But it wasn’t until I turned twenty that I experienced a defining moment—one that transformed horses from a cherished hobby into a true passion and lifelong direction.

At that time, I had a friend who was involved with horses on the thoroughbred racetrack in Regina. Eager to deepen my understanding, I asked if I could work alongside them and learn more about equine stewardship and racing. They said yes—and that opportunity opened an entirely new world to me.

Stepping into the environment of the racetrack was both humbling and invigorating. My role quickly evolved beyond observation. I became a caregiver, a caretaker, and in many ways, a student of the horse in its most refined athletic form. From feeding routines to hands-on care, and from understanding nutritional needs to observing the demands of conditioning and performance, I was immersed in every aspect of a racehorse’s life.
That experience became the turning point. The responsibility of caring for these horses, combined with the depth of knowledge required, shifted something within me. It was no longer simply about riding or companionship—it became about stewardship, commitment, and a genuine desire to understand and support the horse as a whole.

What began as curiosity grew into purpose. The lessons I learned during that time created the foundation for a lifelong dedication to caring for and working with horses. It was there, on the racetrack, that I realized this was not just something I loved to do—it was something I was meant to pursue.
 
GM: How has your relationship with horses evolved over the years, especially as both you and your horses have aged?
DP: My relationship with horses has deepened and matured over the years, evolving from the excitement of early connection into a quiet, intentional partnership rooted in care, respect, and understanding. At my core, I am a caregiver. I believe strongly in helping other beings become the best they can be, working with what they have, and honoring where they are in each stage of life.

That belief naturally extends to my work with horses. I find great fulfillment in helping them feel comfortable and healthy, in creating a safe environment where curiosity can flourish, and in offering steady leadership that sets them up for success. Over time, I have come to understand that horsemanship is less about control and more about awareness—listening closely, responding thoughtfully, and adapting to the individual needs of each horse.

Today, that philosophy is most meaningfully expressed through my partnership with my own horse, a 25-year-old Appaloosa named Sage. As we have aged together, my role has continued to evolve. With a touch of humor, I often refer to myself as an “equine retirement specialist,” but behind that lighthearted title is a deep commitment to learning and growth.

Caring for an aging horse has required me to expand my knowledge—researching best practices, exploring new approaches to structural and health challenges, and continually refining how I support Sage’s well-being. It has become a more nuanced, attentive form of horsemanship, one that prioritizes comfort, longevity, and quality of life above all else.
There is something profoundly meaningful about growing older alongside a horse. It invites patience, humility, and a deeper level of connection. Each day becomes less about achievement and more about presence—about ensuring that, in whatever way possible, it is the best day it can be for both of us.

In this stage of life, the relationship is no longer defined by what we do, but by how we care—for each other, and for the journey we continue to share.
 
GM: What do you believe people often misunderstand about caring for senior horses, and how has your own experience challenged common assumptions?
DP: One of the most common misunderstandings about caring for senior horses is the belief that their needs diminish with age. In reality, the opposite is true. With years of experience behind them, horses become even more perceptive, more intuitive, and more attuned to the humans around them.

Senior horses are incredibly intelligent. Their memories are long, and their ability to read both people and situations is refined through a lifetime of interaction. By this stage, there is no room for pretense. They recognize authenticity immediately. You are either present—fully there with the intention to support, care, and connect—or you are not. And they know the difference.

My own experience has challenged me to rise to that level of awareness. As both my horse and I have aged, one of the most important lessons has been the value of being real in every interaction. Presence is no longer optional; it is essential. Every moment spent together calls for attentiveness, honesty, and a genuine commitment to her well-being.

Caring for a senior horse is not simply about managing physical needs, although those are certainly important. It is about meeting them with respect for who they have become—acknowledging their wisdom, honoring their sensitivities, and ensuring their safety and comfort with thoughtful, consistent care.

In many ways, the relationship becomes more profound with age. It asks more of us—not in effort alone, but in integrity. To show up fully, to listen closely, and to act with intention. Because in the presence of a senior horse, authenticity is not just appreciated—it is expected.
 
GM: Can you share a story of a horse who stayed with you into their senior years and left a lasting impact on your approach to horsemanship?
DP: As I’ve ridden and worked with horses who have moved into their senior years, one of the most profound lessons they have offered is the development of “feel.” It is not something that can be rushed or forced; rather, it is cultivated over time, shaped by experience, patience, and a willingness to truly listen.

Feel comes from a place of heightened sensitivity—the quiet knowing before the knowing. It is the ability to sense a shift in your horse’s thoughts or emotions before it becomes visible. With senior horses especially, this awareness becomes essential. They communicate in subtler ways, and in turn, they ask us to meet them with a deeper level of attentiveness.

I have experienced this most clearly with horses who have stayed with me into their later years. As our time together lengthened, so too did our understanding of one another. What began as communication through aids and cues gradually transformed into something far more refined. It became an unspoken dialogue—one built on trust, intuition, and mutual respect.

When a rider develops this level of feel, the relationship shifts. It is no longer two separate bodies working together, but rather one unified partnership moving toward a shared goal. There is a harmony that emerges, where responses become softer, timing becomes instinctive, and connection becomes seamless.

This is, in many ways, the greatest treasure a horsewoman or horseman can develop. It extends beyond technique or skill—it changes the very nature of the relationship. And with senior horses, that transformation is even more meaningful. Their experience, combined with our willingness to listen, creates a depth of partnership that is both rare and enduring.

In the end, the horses who stay with us into their later years leave more than memories. They leave a legacy of understanding—one that continues to shape how we approach every horse that follows.
 
GM: What inspired you to create the Aging Horses People Facebook community, and what need did you see that wasn’t being met elsewhere?
DP: The creation of the Aging Active Rider Movement Facebook community emerged from a deeply personal realization that gradually revealed a much larger, shared experience. In media, marketing, and publishing, there is often an unspoken assumption that the focus—and opportunity—lies with younger audiences. As I began to age within the equine world, I noticed something unsettling: there seemed to be fewer spaces where experienced, older riders were seen, heard, or represented.

At the same time, I had joined an online writing group simply because I have always loved words—their rhythm, their honesty, and the way they allow us to make sense of our experiences. Writing became a natural outlet for me, and I began to reflect on my own journey: aging, feeling increasingly out of place in certain spaces, and yet still holding an unwavering love for horses.

I wrote about what it felt like to be older and searching for belonging within the equine community. I wrote about the realities of not always seeing myself reflected in the wider narrative, and about the quiet persistence of continuing to ride, learn, and grow despite that absence. It was never intended as anything more than personal expression—a way of putting thoughts on paper.

What I did not anticipate was the response.

That first article reached over 30,000 readers. The second grew even further, reaching 76,000 readers, and from there it began to gain momentum and go viral. It became clear very quickly that this was not just my story—it was the story of hundreds of thousands of ageing and senior riders who were feeling and thinking the very same things, but had not yet seen their experiences articulated.

That realization became the turning point. I continued writing, and in doing so, began to define a space that did not previously exist in the same visible way: a space that honors the reality of aging in the saddle, the wisdom that comes with experience, and the ongoing desire to remain active, capable, and connected to horses.

From that foundation, the Aging Active Rider Movement was born—not as a trend or a niche, but as a voice. A place where riders could see themselves reflected, where their stories mattered, and where the conversation around aging in the equine world could be reframed with respect, dignity, and possibility.

At its core, it is about more than riding. It is about redefining what it means to age with purpose, and ensuring that experience is not seen as an ending, but as a continuing and valuable part of the journey.
 
GM: Your page has become a supportive space for seasoned riders. What kinds of conversations or connections within the community have moved you the most?
DP: The most profound and humbling connections within the Aging Active Rider Movement have come through conversations with thousands of ageing riders who have expressed a deeply shared sentiment: that there is often no visible place for them within the broader equine world, and yet, they are not finished with riding, learning, or contributing.

Hearing this echoed so consistently from others was both moving and familiar. I understood it personally, which is what inspired me to create a safe and secure space where we could gather, speak openly, and support one another through the realities of aging while remaining actively engaged in the horse world.

The intention was never simply to build a community, but to build a refuge of understanding—one grounded in respect, safety, and shared experience. A place where riders could be honest about their challenges, their goals, and their continued desire to stay in the saddle.

What has emerged is a community built on encouragement and mutual support. Members share knowledge, offer reassurance, and help one another make thoughtful, informed decisions about how to continue riding safely and sustainably. There is a quiet strength in that exchange—a recognition that aging does not diminish passion, but instead deepens perspective.

To witness this collective support system take shape has been one of the most meaningful aspects of this journey. It reflects a simple but powerful truth: while our bodies may change over time, our connection to horses, and to each other as riders, remains deeply alive.

At its heart, this community is about belonging. It is about ensuring that no rider feels unseen, and that every individual who still wishes to ride has a place where they are understood, supported, and encouraged to continue their journey for as long as it is safe and possible to do so.
 
GM: How do you balance sharing practical information with offering emotional support to people navigating the challenges of aging equine partners?
DP: Balancing practical information with emotional support is something I approach with care, intention, and a strong sense of responsibility. When working with people who are navigating the challenges of aging equine partners, my first priority is always to create a safe and supportive environment—one where individuals feel heard, respected, and encouraged to ask questions openly.

Within the Aging Active Rider Movement, support is offered not only by myself but also through the wider community, which has become an important source of shared experience and understanding. However, equally important is the emphasis on safety and informed decision-making. I consistently encourage individuals to consult with their doctor or healthcare professional regarding their own physical needs, and with their veterinarian or equine care team when it comes to their horse.

I also strongly believe in the value of personal research. Providing information is only one part of the process; empowering people to explore, verify, and understand that information for themselves is essential. It allows riders to make thoughtful, informed decisions that are appropriate for their unique circumstances, both for themselves and for their horses.

At the heart of my approach is a commitment to helping others be the best they can be in the situations they are navigating. This belief extends equally to horses. I always aim to support choices that prioritize well-being, clarity, and thoughtful consideration, while also encouraging people to remain grounded in professional guidance.

I often emphasize the importance of caution and collaboration, reminding people to seek advice from qualified healthcare professionals—whether human or equine—before making any significant decisions. This reinforces a culture of responsibility, where care is shared between individuals, professionals, and the broader support system around them.
Ultimately, my goal is to bridge knowledge with compassion. To offer information that is practical and useful, while also acknowledging the emotional realities of aging alongside a horse. It is in this balance—between guidance and empathy, information and intuition—that true support is found.
 
GM: What projects or initiatives are you currently working on, and what excites you most about them?
DP: The role of senior riders within the broader equine world is undergoing a quiet but meaningful shift. Increasingly, there is a growing recognition that experience is not something to be phased out, but rather something to be valued, shared, and integrated into the future of horsemanship.

Senior riders carry with them years of accumulated knowledge—practical, emotional, and experiential. When that knowledge is shared, it has the power to make life easier, safer, and more informed for the next generation. It is a form of contribution that extends beyond personal achievement and becomes part of a wider legacy within the equine community.

This wealth of experience is not only about climbing the ladder of success in a traditional sense. It also involves understanding what works well in practice, and just as importantly, recognizing decisions and approaches that may not serve horse or rider as effectively. That kind of insight can only come from time, repetition, reflection, and lived experience.

In my view, the senior ageing rider carries two important and equally valuable responsibilities. The first is to fully embrace and enjoy their retirement or later riding years to the best of their ability—continuing to ride, connect, and engage with horses in a way that is fulfilling, safe, and meaningful.

The second responsibility is mentorship. Whether formal or informal, this involves guiding and supporting the next generation of riders, sharing knowledge, and helping others navigate their own equine journeys with greater clarity and confidence.
Within the Aging Active Rider Movement, I see this shift already taking shape. There is a growing willingness among experienced riders to speak openly about what they have learned, to support others, and to contribute to a culture where wisdom is valued as much as ambition.

I believe this is where the future of the equine world is heading: toward a more connected, intergenerational community where senior riders are not seen as stepping back, but as stepping into a different, equally important role—one that blends enjoyment, stewardship, and mentorship.

In this way, senior riders are not simply continuing their journey; they are helping to shape the path for those who follow.
 
GM: How do you see the role of senior riders changing in the broader equine world, and what part do you hope your community plays in that shift?
DP: At present, my work is centered on one clear and deeply personal mission: ensuring that the ageing senior rider has a defined, respected place within the broader equine world. My goal is to help create that place—not as an afterthought, but as a valued and visible part of equestrian culture.

There is a profound wealth of experience and knowledge within the senior riding community. My intention is to help bring that forward into a respectful and accessible space where it can be shared, acknowledged, and encouraged. This includes fostering an environment where wisdom is not only preserved, but actively exchanged in a way that benefits both current and future generations of riders.

A core part of this work is building supportive structures that help ageing riders remain in the saddle safely and confidently for as long as possible. This involves exploring and sharing practical tools, resources, and approaches that support physical well-being, confidence, and long-term sustainability in riding.

What excites me most is the sense of connection that continues to grow through this initiative. There is a clear and powerful need for it, and with that comes the opportunity to make a meaningful difference—not just in individual lives, but within the culture of horsemanship itself.

To contribute to a shift where experience is valued, where ageing riders are supported rather than sidelined, and where staying in the saddle is seen as both achievable and worthy of encouragement, is incredibly motivating. It represents not just a project, but a long-term commitment to reshaping how we view age, ability, and lifelong partnership with horses.
 
GM: What does horsemanship mean to you?
DP: Horsemanship, to me, is fundamentally about relationship. It extends far beyond the act of riding and into every aspect of daily care, understanding, and connection with the horse. It is built through attentiveness to a horse’s needs, consistent relationship-building, and a commitment to integrity in both thought and action. At its core, horsemanship reflects a moral and ethical mindset that seeks to bring out the best in all beings—whether horse, human, or any other relationship in our lives.

I see horsemanship as the defining and most important foundation for helping someone become the best version of themselves with what they have to work with. It is not about perfection or comparison, but about working thoughtfully within the reality of each situation to create meaningful progress.

Good horsemanship strives to create success in achievable, sustainable ways. It prioritizes health and comfort for the horse, ensuring that well-being is never compromised in the pursuit of goals. It encourages an open mind, a willingness to learn continuously, and a humility that allows experience—both positive and challenging—to become the greatest teacher.

When a rider is fortunate enough to develop “feel”—that subtle, sensitive, intuitive knowing—the relationship with the horse changes in a profound way. Communication deepens, awareness heightens, and the connection moves beyond routine interaction. What was once functional becomes fluid; what was once ordinary becomes deeply connected.

In those moments, horsemanship moves from the mundane to the truly magical. It becomes a shared language, a partnership of trust and understanding, where horse and rider are no longer separate participants, but part of something unified, responsive, and alive.

That, to me, is the essence of horsemanship: a lifelong commitment to learning, listening, and growing alongside the horse in a way that honors both partners equally.
 
Connect with Deb Purdy…
https://www.facebook.com/deb.k.purdy