Colts Will Test You. Here’s the Rule That Saves You

Hey! Prefer to listen instead of read the Newsletter? I got you! The Resilient Reiner Newsletter also comes as a podcast! 🎙️ 

Somehow, I’ve ended up in baby colt land the last couple of years.

Started my mare.
Started my mustang.
Started my baby. (horse baby, just to be clear)
Started another mustang.

And this year I’ll be starting another colt.

Who am I?

Anyway… as someone who has the great honor of getting older each year, I’ve realized I’m pretty attached to my physical body and keeping it in good working order.

And babies are babies.
They spook. They bolt. They have big feelings about small shadows. They’re constantly asking, “Are we sure we shouldn’t be a lot more concerned right now??”

So as a survival mechanism, I’ve had to lean hard into being Cool Hand Luke.

Like… nah. Nothing bothers me.
I’m cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.

And here’s the line I’ve basically tattooed on my own forehead at this point (and yep—I drill it into my clients too):

Don’t panic until you need to panic.

Colts made this rule non-negotiable. But if you’ve ever gotten in your head on a dead-broke horse at a show? Same exact problem. Same exact fix.

Because overthinking has a sneaky way of turning a maybe into a full-blown emergency… in your body.

And if you ride, you know exactly what I mean.

It starts innocent:

• “What if my horse spooks at the in-gate?”

• “What if I forget my pattern?”

• “What if we miss that lead change?”

• “What if everyone can tell I’m nervous?”

• “What if I’m not actually as good as they think I am?”

And suddenly your brain is acting like you’re about to be chased by a mountain lion…

…when really you’re about to lope a circle.

(But for real, loping that first time on a colt is… well…. An act of faith.) 

Your brain isn’t trying to sabotage you. It’s trying to keep you alive.

Your nervous system’s job is safety. Not accuracy. Not confidence. Not “peak performance in front of the judge.” Or even, “let’s give this colt a good ride”.

So it scans for threats and it loves worst-case scenarios because worst-case scenarios feel like “preparing.”

But here’s the trap:
Thinking about the worst case doesn’t prevent it. It just makes you ride like it’s already happening.

That’s when you get:

• the tight chest

• the stiff hands

• the rushed body

• the “I can’t breathe and I can’t feel my legs” moment

• the classic “I know what to do… why can’t I do it right now??” spiral

The shift: panic later (if needed)

“Don’t panic until you need to panic” doesn’t mean you ignore reality.

It means you stop spending emotional fuel on disasters that haven’t happened.

It means you stop living the whole wreck in advance.

So for riders, it sounds like:

• “I’ll deal with it if my horse blows up at the in-gate.”
  (Not: “Let me mentally ride the blow-up 47 times this week.”)

• “I’ll adjust if I miss a lead.”
  (Not: “If I miss a lead, my run is ruined and my life is over and I should sell everything and move to a remote cabin.”)

“I’ll troubleshoot after I actually get new information.”

The “mountain lion vs rock” problem

Imagine we’re riding out on a trail a thousand years ago (barefoot, messy braid, probably no helmet, vibes only).
You’re the anxious one. I’m the “we’re fiiiiine” one.

You say: “UM… that’s a mountain lion.”

Most of the time? It’s a rock.

But the one time it’s not a rock… anxiety wins the evolutionary trophy.

So your brain learned:
Better to overreact and survive than stay calm and be wrong.

That’s why “calm” doesn’t come naturally under pressure for most riders.
It’s not a character flaw.

It’s biology.

The real flex is short-term discomfort

One of the biggest skills I’ve learned—both as a competitor and as a coach—is this:

You learn to tolerate the discomfort of uncertainty without turning it into catastrophe.

Because growth feels like:

• not knowing yet

• wobbling

• being imperfect in public (did I mention I’m riding youngsters?) 

• making mistakes and staying present anyway

That’s the whole game.

And if you can train your nervous system to stay online in that moment?
Now you’re dangerous (in the best way).

Try this TODAY (like… literally today)

Next time your brain starts yelling:

1. Name it: “My brain is predicting disaster.”

2. Ground it: “Do I have evidence this is happening right now?”

3. Decide: “I’m not panicking until there’s an actual problem to solve.”

4. Return: “What’s the next useful cue for my body?”
   (Breathe out longer. Soften shoulders. Eyes up. Ride the next stride.)

That’s how you stop feeding the spiral.

Stay confident, 

Nicole 

If this hits home and you want a simple, structured way to train your “calm switch” (so it shows up at home and in the pen), that’s exactly what 5 Days to Confident Competitor is for.

Short audios. No fluff. Practical tools you can use:

• before you ride

• walking to the pen

• mid-run when your brain starts getting loud