My childhood friend, Jordan McDonald, died on June 14 of this year. He was competing a horse in the UK, when the pair suffered a rotational fall. Tragically, a few times a year lives are lost in this way in the sport of eventing. However, these incidents have always seemed distant until this one hit here, at home.
Jordan was one of my best friends from age 15-21. We were part of a large, tight knit group of young equestrians who basically lived at Unicorn Stables. Unicorn Stables, yes, it sounds surreal, and it was. Possibility was cultivated there, and the air was infused with freedom. A pack of little dream-chasers ran wild upon the fields. Every manner of mischief was had within the fences, and back and forth over them, on ponies and on foot. Tree-climbing and ditch jumping left little legs aching; berry and slurpee stains marked soft, white skin. Horses, always horses, produced shrieks of adventure, and left many scarred for life- with the marks of a deep, pure childhood.
Jordan was a bright stitch in the fabric of Unicorn Stables, and in the childhood of us all. He was a warm, warm soul, who truly cared about his family, friends, and animals; equally so he was a cheeky mischief maker. One friend summed this side of him up perfectly when she said, “just going to the grocery store with him was like a comedy skit.” And it was.
My best memories of Jordan depict the two of us, late at night, practicing on the horses. “Do I look like Mary King?” We would ask each other? “What do I need to do to ride more like Mark Todd?” Then we would head to the house and analyze eventing videos. We were sure if we studied hard enough, we’d discover the skills necessary to make our dreams come true. It was a blissfully inspired time.
Jordan met Shandiss, the love of his life at Unicorn. They became a couple in their mid-teens, and remain as such. The two of them moved to the East Coast to pursue their riding goals. Over time, as is the way of the life, many of us Unicorn kids went in different directions. I saw little of Jordan and Shandiss through my twenties. Jordan became a licensed pilot, which enabled a coffee or two when he was stopping through Kelowna. Still, years would go by without contact.
However, in 2011 I travelled to Florida to train, and was fortunate to stay with Jordan and Shandiss for four months. Now, considering this recent event, I am especially grateful for this time. I hadn’t seen the two of them for almost ten years when I pulled in to the farm. But as they emerged to welcome me, nothing between us had changed, and I felt like I’d arrived home.
During my Florida trip I was struck by how skilled Shandiss and Jordan had become, and how professional. Both are dogged, grateful, and good-natured workers. They were a team in every way, chasing their dreams in eventing, and in love.
The loss of a special friend, in this manner, is certainly cause for reflection. Specifically, consideration of my role in eventing. It’s a dangerous sport. Horses gallop fast and jump solid obstacles. Accidents happen. Great efforts have been made in the last decade to make eventing safer, yet a few riders still die every year following a rotational fall. Funny, now that our friend has been killed, I’ve had an irrational expectation that surely something will be done. Because it was Jordan McDonald, as opposed to someone else’s friend or son, miraculously safety will be achieved in this sport. Although I’m sure the wheels are turning in the heads of many experts, I doubt such a thing is possible. Eventing is dangerous. Risks can be reduced through training and frangible pins, but it will never be safe. How can it be? Riders are tucked onto the backs of another being, straining and striving in tandem, the ground rushes by, and they become a part of the blurring. It is a state like no other. Not because it is dangerous, because it is beautiful. That’s why I go there.
Contrary to some claims, I don’t think most of us ride cross country because we are adrenaline junkies. Personally, I ride cross country because the world looks better between two pricked ears, and I love that place in the wind. Someone stated that surely Jordan would not have chosen to give up his life for that ride, and I agree. However, he would not have chosen another life other than the one he was living. His chosen life contained that ride, and many other brilliant cross country rounds, misty mornings, dewy pastures, dogs, friends, his beloved family, and the woman he loves.
So, the decision to continue is a personal one. Is it better to visit that place in the wind, or abstain, all the while burning to go back there. The decision and our reasons are our own, and our answers today may not remain the same tomorrow.
The only certainty I’m left with today, is the love I feel for the comrades of my youth, and my current training partners. You are my sisters and brothers in striving and struggle. This is a special bond. Last week, while chasing some friends around Beaver Lake, I mused that I must be breathing in some of what they were breathing out. Likely, our cells are infused with each other. So today, while the call of my passions is stronger than my fears, I will follow them. While the joys of my chosen life outweigh their inherent risks I will embrace them. I will soak in the time shared with you my fellow athletes, my family in spirit. My love leaves the start line, and box with you. Thank you for chasing dreams with me, and sharing the loss of one of our own.
Shandiss, Cindy, Cam and Shannon, I haven’t words enough for you. Your courage today, sharing your memories, your grief, your Jordan with us, was remarkable. I like to believe he was watching from somewhere, and was beyond proud.
Jordan, you left us far too soon my friend. Yet, I’m so grateful for your spirit that fueled lifelong hopes and passions. I can still see your mischievous grin that inspired countless stories of laughter. You are deeply loved, and dearly missed. Thank you, my companion in dreaming. I have no doubt that you’ve found your place in the wind.
Sweet Performance 