Ксения

The best twenty minutes of the day are when everything's already done and you can just stand there. That's rest, not lying around on your phone.

The hour before training isn't spent on the saddle. First the hooves, then the neck, then everything else—and only then can you ride anywhere.

A horse senses you before you mount. While I'm walking down the aisle with the bridle, she can already tell whether I'm calm or in a hurry. First contact, then a command: a hand on the neck is a conversation, not a caress. You don't choose the weather, you choose your form. A training session missed because of rain isn't rescheduled; it disappears. Walking is also work: half an hour is spent warming up and walking.

From here you can see what you can’t see from the stands: the players are not running after the ball, but to the empty space where the ball will fly.

Training is for these seconds. In the gym, you repeat a movement a hundred times, so here you don't have to think about it even once.

Refereeing a game is harder than playing: you run just as much, but you can't make a single mistake. Five kilometers per match and not a single break.

It looks beautiful in the photo, but it's hard in reality: the horse supports its weight on its hind legs, and you can't do that often—its joints aren't made of rubber.

The gallop appears fast, but in reality it is softer than the trot: it has a flight phase, and the rider's back rests.

The gallop is softer than the trot: it has a flight phase, and the back rests. It's only scary the first five times.