Hello 2025: what's changed and what's not in my RDA life?

Orli and Wilbur sharing a quiet moment at Christmas, complete with tinsel

 

Happy New Year!

2024 was a huge year: not only did I change my RDA group, which had never been part of the plan, I became a founding trustee of a brand new one. New Year is a traditional time for reflection, and I've used this year's Christmas break to reflect on the fact that although it's been far from a bad year, it's been a lot, and that's why I've not felt as able as I'd like to write about it. The beginning of 2024 rounded off a really difficult era which had a lot of potential for putting me off RDA entirely and going off in search of a hobby that was easier, or at least more self-serving. I'm glad it didn't: although the year was full of challenges and strange situations which were way off any reasonable person's predictions, it's been uplifting, fun, and exciting. Starting a new RDA group is interesting, and it's also something we need more people to be doing, so 2025 will be about sharing (don't forget you can also keep up with me on Instagram).

I've never believed in the slightest in "New Year, New Me", and with my new group, Aim RDA, I couldn't feel more "me". I do, however, find it interesting to look at the contrasts at New Year: what's in, what's out? What's changed and what hasn't? What might be different again in a year's time? I'm not making any predictions (the crystal ball on my Christmas list didn't materialise), but the here and now and the there and then are a bit easier.

What's changed? The setup

One of the biggest practical changes of the past year has been the setup of our new group. I'd only ever known a long-established, single venue group. Aim RDA is spread across two locations, one of which is an existing RDA group and the other is a mainstream riding school - not only that but the latter is on an active military installation, which means the induction process was seasoned with such advice as "if you see a sign like this, you'll get blown up if you walk across the field". 

This was all totally new to Aim's founding members. Operating out of a venue that isn't yours (with horses that aren't yours either) means thinking about specifics that weren't things at all in my previous RDA setup. I'm heartened that there are groups who have done this successfully for decades, because none of us have "purpose built centre and 12 amazing horses" money at this point in time. Our venues have been amazing, so this is a happy change. I am in particular indebted to Lambourn RDA, where I'm based on Saturdays, and who have been incredibly generous and (where necessary) incredibly patient with our new team.

I've also adapted to coaching outside on a regular basis. This seems a bit of a high maintenance thing to note as a change (maybe I am), but I've never needed to do it in RDA and it's meant paying attention to things which really haven't mattered in the past, like the hourly weather forecast, and light levels for my visually impaired riders. LRDA's site has been so lovely that to quote a dear (and honest) friend, "even India hasn't complained about being outside". (In the unlikely event that the Equidry marketing team are reading this, please sponsor my RDA group.)

What's not? The connections

The biggest thing that's kept me so loyal to RDA is the relationships I've built through it. It's hard to explain to an outsider how meaningful the bonds can be with someone you might not see for more than an hour a week. I stayed at my previous group for so long because so many of these connections were so important to me, even if I was otherwise unhappy. I was worried about damaging and/or losing the relationships I had built so carefully, and equally worried that I wouldn't be able to build similar in my new RDA era. I didn't need to be. 

The vast majority of my former riders and their families have stayed in touch, and many former volunteers have too. My fears of being begrudged or forgotten haven't come true in the relationships I was the most worried about losing. There is still so much mutual support, and I've been so excited every time a reunion comes up in my diary, or when I've had an update from a former rider or their parent. The last people I spent time with in 2024, other than my long-suffering partner, was a former RDA family who now just get to be my friends. That's really special.

Coaching my last lesson of 2024, with understated headgear

What's changed? The balance

Reading back some of my previous blog posts is hard, because it's clear that they were written by someone who was struggling. I've realised this year that RDA-life balance shouldn't be a struggle. Nobody goes into a volunteer role not wanting to love what they do. I don't think many people want to talk about it, but plenty of long-term volunteers have experienced what I have: too many other things getting in the way and volunteer duties being more going through the motions, because who else will if I don't? 

Starting a group totally from scratch has enabled all of us to define that balance in a way that works for us. It also helps that our relationships with our host venues are really well defined, and it's easy to ask questions in any direction. Being on a board with some of my closest friends does mean it's very difficult to be "off" - it took four courses and a strong tequila-based cocktail to throw me and one of my most notorious co-conspirators truly off the shop talk at a birthday dinner - but the balance feels better than it has in years and that's a good thing. Having a thriving RDA group in fifty years means getting this right now, and my previous balance wasn't sustainable.

What's not? The reasons

If I had a mission statement for being involved in RDA - which I don't, because that's tacky and I'm not a major corporation - it would be "to enjoy helping others achieve things through horses". That's why I do it. "Aim" stands for "Ability, Independence, Motivation" - these are all things that have mattered to me and the group's other founding members for longer than the its so far short history. My reasons haven't changed, and if anything, starting a brand new group has made them clearer. Starting an RDA group isn't that easy, it turns out - you have to be pretty committed to the cause to see that process through. Thankfully, I've surrounded by people who share that commitment, and who are also similarly bonkers. Both are important.

What's changed? The negotiations

I've already mentioned the change in setup and the need for us at Aim, as a new group operating out of hired venues, to negotiate these new waters (times two). I had some experience of group governance before becoming a founding trustee, but the process of finding and working with venues was totally new to all of us. I actually think the most nuanced part of this comes way after the point of drawing up terms and conditions: like all good relationships, we have to work out the right give and take, the right communication, and the right level of professionalism. Our venues are genuinely wonderful places with wonderful people running them, but that makes it all the more important to be business-like and sensitive. There are other dynamics to work out as a brand new group too - we are of course part of a much larger network of RDA groups, and have to balance establishing our own identity with slotting into existing structures and working productively with regional and national teams. While the overall landscape is familiar, it's a very different experience finding our feet, and those who have offered support and encouragement have meant the world to all of us. I suppose, at the end of the day, we do still really need more RDA groups.

Aim RDA's first four coaches at our Shrivenham Equestrian Centre launch in September

What's changed? The support networks

One of the things I am most happy to have influence over as a founding trustee for Aim RDA is how we are able to structure support for all members of our group. If X is hard for Y, what do we need to do? How can we avoid some challenges altogether? It's much easier to implement this kind of thing as a new group building from the ground up, than trying to make in-flight changes to a process that's already been gaining momentum for decades. This has already made me feel so much more comfortable in my commitment to RDA than I have done in the past. The figures in my personal support networks aren't totally new, but they have definitely shifted and - most importantly - expanded. I've crossed paths with some amazing new (or newish) people in 2024.

There have been past times, as a coach in particular, when I've felt pretty lonely in RDA. That's a big thing to admit when 1) I really want to be as positive as I can about my experiences, and 2) I don't usually consider myself someone who finds it hard to make friends or fit in, but I'm feeling really confident that I won't need to feel like that again in our new setup. 

What's not? The fun

I still find the same things fun that I've always found fun in RDA. I love the coaching, building riders' confidence and being able to offer them new and exciting opportunities. In thirteen years, asking someone if they would like to canter for the first time has never got old. Watching someone ride a personal best dressage test is still a thrill. Spending time as a like-minded team will always be enjoyable. I'll never get sick of silly seasonal gymkhana games where the volunteers out themselves as ruthlessly competitive. Writing is still so much fun! 

I'm enjoying being able to make as much of that fun happen, for me and for others, as I can. Four hours in the pub with a group of volunteers, riders and their families flew by at our Saturday team Christmas dinner: I loved laughing till I hurt with people I've known for years and people I've only known a few months. Anyone giving a lot to a voluntary role needs the fun, and there's lots of it coming in 2025.

What really hasn't changed? The Christmas tree costume

I really went all out for Aim RDA's first Christmas. I am a very festive person and love being able to make it special for others, especially with 2024's one-off opportunity to start traditions afresh. One tradition I don't think I'll ever be able to shake off is my Christmas tree costume: £12.99 of Jeff Bezos' finest quality green felt, including a hat that looks more like Napoleon's than perhaps it should. I don't think I can end a year in any other way now.

Me in my Christmas tree costume, blowing up an inflatable candy cane, overlooked by one amused volunteer and one bemused chicken

I hope you're looking forward to this year. I am.