And as this week has proved, dreams can come true. After two years of hard work, training, consistency and determination - I rode to a bar in the little pueblo of Calvia, had a beer and wobbly rode home.
My mare didn't have the best start in life. Me being the seventh owner in her five short years, she couldn't trust. She was feisty and hungry, manic and insane, she would stare for hours into the distance and pace her stable, she shook with fear at plastic bags and logs out of place. She couldn't stand still to be brushed, she galloped down the road into on-coming traffic with me on board, her legs buckled at barking dogs, she snorted at over-flowing bins and absolutely would not let me stroke her, especially on her face. She fought me every single day.
Slowly, slowly, without me really recognising it was happening, she became less scared about the world around her. She whickered to me every morning, she would always gallop over to see me when my car arrived at the end of the day, she opened her mouth in eagerness for the bit to go in, she seemed pleased to be brushed and for fly spray to be squirted all over her. Her eye softened, her muscles less tense, her balance got better and she finally started to trust.
That's why it was such a big day. The day we rode to the pub, had a beer and rode home.