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