For years, I never really questioned whether my
So when I started thinking about taking Tino barefoot, I heard plenty of reasons why I probably shouldn’t.
He’s a performance
You trail ride.
You show.
He might get sore.
His feet might not hold up.
And for a while, I listened.
But eventually, I decided to trust my gut — and more importantly, trust what my
Tino has now been barefoot for a full year, and I can honestly say he has been thriving.
A Year of Doing All the Things
Going barefoot didn’t mean retiring him to a soft pasture and avoiding anything difficult.
Quite the opposite.
Over the past year, Tino and I have trail ridden regularly, ridden over all kinds of terrain, gone back into the hunter/jumper show ring, and even competed in my very first dressage show.
He has done all of it barefoot.
And in an arena setting, I have never had a single moment when I felt being barefoot was holding him back.
No tenderness.
No shortened stride.
No hesitation.
No feeling that I needed shoes in order to compete.
In fact, I feel like I’ve seen the opposite.
His stride seems bigger and more fluid. There is a looseness and almost a little more float to the way he moves that I absolutely love.
Most importantly, he just seems comfortable.
What About Trail Riding?

This was probably one of my biggest concerns when I decided to go barefoot because we do a lot of trail riding.
Our trails aren’t always perfectly groomed. There are rocks, hard ground, uneven footing and all the things that come with riding outside an arena.
Has Tino ever stepped on a rock and gone, “OUCH”?
Yep.
Every once in a while, we’ll be on a particularly rocky section and I can feel him step on something uncomfortable. He takes an awkward step, basically says, “Well, that wasn’t pleasant,” and then walks right off perfectly fine.
That has honestly been the worst-case scenario for us.
I’m also not a huge fan of hoof boots for everyday riding. I don’t love fussing with them unless I really feel like we need them. But if I know we’re heading somewhere that is especially rocky, I’ll bring them along and usually just pop them on his front feet.
Even then, I’ve used them very little.
In the entire past year, I’ve probably put his boots on fewer than five times.
For me, that says a lot.
I like knowing I have the boots as an option when I need a little extra protection, but I also love that they haven’t become something we depend on every time we leave the barn.
If I were riding miles and miles over sharp rock every day, I might feel differently. But for the riding we do, his feet have handled everything remarkably well.
Showing Barefoot

I think there is still a perception in some parts of the
But horses don’t care what tradition says.
They care about whether they are comfortable.
I showed Tino at a hunter/jumper show barefoot, and it was a complete non-issue. We jumped, cantered courses and did everything we would have done if he had been wearing shoes.
More recently, I rode my first dressage test at age 55 — also barefoot.

Again, there was absolutely nothing about his performance that made me think, “He needs shoes.”
If anything, I found myself appreciating how freely he was moving.
Barefoot Isn’t the Right Answer for Every Horse
I want to be very clear about this part.
This isn’t a “take your
Barefoot isn’t right for every
There are horses with conformational issues, hoof-quality problems, therapeutic shoeing needs, demanding workloads or terrain that may absolutely benefit from shoes.
Every
What I’ve learned is that we shouldn’t automatically assume every
Sometimes it’s worth stepping back and asking:
What does this particular
For Tino, barefoot has worked.
Really, really well.
Trusting My Own Horse
Maybe the biggest lesson in this whole experience actually has very little to do with hooves.
It has been about learning to trust myself again.
Horse people have opinions.
Lots of opinions.
And when you’re surrounded by trainers, farriers, vets, barn friends and people who have been doing things a certain way for decades, it’s incredibly easy to assume everyone else must know better.
Expert advice matters. I will always listen to professionals I trust.
But at the end of the day, I am the person who sees my
I ride him.
I know how he feels underneath me.
I know what his normal looks like.
And sometimes you have to take all the advice, all the opinions and all the “this is how we’ve always done it” thinking — and then look at the
A year ago, my gut told me to give barefoot a chance.
A year later, Tino is trail riding, showing, jumping, dressaging and moving better than ever.
I’d say he’s given me my answer.
And if something changes someday?
We’ll change with him.
Because that might be the most important part of horsemanship after all: not committing ourselves to one particular way of doing things, but continuing to listen to the
For now, Tino is barefoot.
And thriving.
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