The snap of the stirrup hitting the end of the leather was the sign that it was show time.  The sun was shining down on the international warm up ring at the Palm Beach International Equestrian Center.  Today I was showing in the $8,000 1.45 meter class, and it was my first time showing in a class this big.  I was shaking as if I was standing in a blizzard with no coat.  My nerves and excitement were trying to take me over, but I kept telling myself to take a deep breath in through my nose, and out my mouth.  I continued talking to Free Style VH Polderhof, aka Free Style.  She was my ten-year old Belgian Warmblood that I bought two years ago.  She was a typical feisty chestnut mare full of talent and of course, attitude.  Free Style was so powerful, and her jump was one of the best feelings in the world.  It took us some time to bond, but once we did our connection was never broken.  We were together every step of the way, and if she didn’t agree with something, she would let me know. 
“Catherine, you need to get on now,” my trainer exclaimed as she made her way towards me.
With my left foot in the stirrup, I swung my right leg over. 
“Alright, Catherine, so walk her around the warm up ring and get her moving again.  You guys had an astounding first round, since it is the jump off, you need to make sure you’re being fast and clean.  We don’t want any faults.”
I nodded my head, and replied, “Ok, I’m going to trot her a bit to get her mind set.”
I found a place in the zoo of a warm up ring, and asked for the trot.  Free Style was feeling great.  I had a really good feeling about this jump off that was about to take place.  I asked for the downward transition into the walk and suddenly, it felt like she tripped a little bit, so I dismounted, checked her feet to see if she sprung a shoe, and then it happened.  Free Style collapsed, and I was stuck underneath her.  The sound of people’s feet pounding towards me filled my ears.  They were rushing in to help me.  After the time of struggle, I was finally pulled out by Missy Clark.  She placed me in the medic golf cart, and as I sat there, they were unzipping my tall boots to check my legs.  I did not feel any pain, but I looked at my foot and it was purple.  My foot began to shake, but that’s not what I was thinking about.  All I could think about was her.  My only wish was for her to be ok.  I wanted to stay with her, but I was placed in the ambulance, and by the time I was entering the hospital, I knew what happened.  After a couple of hours being in the hospital, it all kicked in.  It was my worst nightmare.  The emotional trauma engulfed me.  My mom and Missy Clark were there to comfort me and be supportive.  By having people there who cared truly helped me through the tragedy. 
I kept wondering over and over what could have happened, was there something to be done?  Free Style had nothing wrong with her.  There were no signs of anything, and there was nothing we could have done to prevent the situation.  The cause of her death was a pulmonary aneurysm that had ruptured while we were in the ring.  The one thing that I was keeping me together was the fact that she was not in pain because it had happened so fast. 
Eight breaks in my foot, 2 surgeries, 2 screws put in, and 14 weeks later my bones were completely reset.  This disaster put me in whole new train of thought.  It opened up my eyes to an even deeper level of what this sport truly is and means.  I could not and would not give up my passion.  Three days after I started walking again, I swung my right leg over and was back in the saddle.