Lisa Todd Coaching

01/10/2026

When did that little niggle become your new normal?

It's something I frequently notice when coaching.

A rider who previously rode quite happily starts making small, almost imperceptible changes.

Their reins become a little shorter. They begin gripping through their thighs, bracing through their back or becoming less allowing with their hands.

Perhaps they're more reluctant to canter, or they find themselves avoiding situations they previously wouldn't have thought twice about.

Except these changes haven't necessarily happened suddenly.
They may have been creeping in for weeks, sometimes months.

Perhaps their horse was a little more enthusiastic than expected. Maybe something happened that left them feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Nothing dramatic. Just enough to introduce a little doubt.

So they adapt.

They hold a little more. Avoid certain situations. Make small adjustments that, individually, don't seem particularly significant.

And gradually, those adjustments become their new normal.

That's the problem with confidence quietly slipping away. Sometimes you don't notice how much has changed until you're a long way from where you started.

And those protective habits can create their own difficulties.

A rider becomes more restrictive, their position changes and the horse may begin responding differently. Which can introduce another little doubt.

It's a cycle that's surprisingly easy to slip into without recognising it.

There's also the emotional investment, particularly if you've bought or loaned a horse you've been dreaming about.

Admitting things aren't quite as you'd imagined can be difficult. It's tempting to explain away those little concerns, hoping they'll resolve themselves.

And sometimes they do.

But sometimes they don't.

So here's something worth asking yourself.

Are there things you previously did comfortably that you're now quietly avoiding?

Have you started changing how you ride because you're trying to prevent something happening?

Are those adjustments appropriate for your horse, or is something beginning to feel uncomfortable?

Not every change is psychological. Sometimes the horse, the circumstances or the technical demands have genuinely changed.

But recognising when your confidence is beginning to shift gives you an opportunity to understand what's happening and get the appropriate support.

And it certainly doesn't mean forcing yourself to push through something you're uncomfortable with.

You don't have to wait until a little niggle becomes a big problem before you do something about it.

💙🐎

30/09/2026

We've probably all done it.

There's someone you're going to see who has a habit of making you feel criticised.

Before you've even encountered them, you're anticipating what they might say.

Perhaps you're already feeling defensive. Perhaps you've rehearsed the conversation in your head. You might even have decided how it's going to go before it's happened.

Then they make a comment.

And there it is. Exactly what you expected.

Or was it?

This is something I frequently encounter in coaching, and it's particularly interesting because two people can experience the same conversation and walk away with completely different interpretations.

Our previous experiences, beliefs and individual sensitivities all influence how we understand what's happening around us.

If you've experienced criticism repeatedly, you may become particularly alert to anything that sounds like criticism.

And sometimes, with very good reason.

But here's where understanding your own patterns becomes useful.

Recognising that you're particularly sensitive to certain situations doesn't mean your feelings are wrong. Nor does it mean that somebody else's behaviour is acceptable.

It simply gives you an opportunity to explore what's happening rather than automatically accepting your first interpretation.

And there are three questions worth considering.

1. What actually happened?

What did the person say or do? Is this an isolated comment, or part of a repeated pattern of behaviour?

That distinction matters.

2. What am I responding to?

Is it what happened in this particular moment? Am I anticipating something because of previous experiences? Or is it a combination of both?

Recognising your own patterns isn't about blaming yourself. It's about understanding your response.

3. What else do I need to consider?

Could there be another reasonable interpretation? Does the person's previous behaviour support my concerns? Is this something I can clarify, or do I need to establish a boundary?

Sometimes you'll discover that you've misunderstood someone's intentions.

Sometimes you'll recognise that previous experiences have made you anticipate criticism that wasn't actually intended.

And sometimes you'll recognise that your reaction is entirely understandable because the behaviour you're encountering genuinely isn't acceptable.

The important distinction is that self-awareness and self-blame are not the same thing.

Understanding why you respond as you do doesn't mean excusing somebody else's behaviour.

And it certainly doesn't mean convincing yourself that you're being too sensitive when there's a genuine problem.

It means becoming more aware of your own patterns, recognising what's happening around you and developing the ability to decide how you want to respond.

Because sometimes the situation hasn't changed, but we can change our response.

And sometimes, understanding our response helps us recognise that the situation itself needs to change.

💙

26/09/2026

This drawing really resonated. Why?

One of the things that strikes me most in coaching is that some of the people who believe they have absolutely no courage are demonstrating an extraordinary amount of it.

They just don’t recognise it in themselves.

Sometimes it’s taken years for someone to reach the point where they feel able to ask for help.

Years of accommodating others, questioning themselves, putting their own needs aside or believing that perhaps they simply aren’t capable of doing things differently.

And then, one day, they make that decision.

They ask for help.

But the courage doesn’t stop there.

There’s also courage in being willing to explore beliefs you’ve carried for years. In recognising that familiar ways of behaving might no longer serve you. In questioning things you’ve always accepted about yourself.

And sometimes in acknowledging just how difficult certain experiences have been.

What I find particularly interesting is that these same people will often describe themselves as lacking courage.

Perhaps because their idea of bravery involves being fearless, standing up to everyone, taking enormous risks or confidently marching into the unknown.

But courage doesn’t have to look anything like that.

Sometimes it means acknowledging that you’re struggling.

Sometimes it’s allowing someone to support you when you’ve spent years believing you have to manage everything yourself.

Sometimes it’s recognising that you have a choice, even if you’re not quite ready to make it.

And sometimes it’s deciding that you no longer have to keep doing things the way you’ve always done them.

You don’t have to push through fear to prove you’re brave.

And you certainly don’t have to make enormous changes overnight.

One of the most rewarding parts of my work is watching people begin to recognise qualities in themselves that they’ve struggled to see.

Including the courage it took to get them to where they are today.

So, for anyone who needs to hear it:

I hope you know how brave you’ve been.

💙

Hello. There’s always so much quiet courage everywhere.

25/09/2026

When did somebody else's opinion become your identity?

Imagine someone who has spent years accommodating other people.

Perhaps they learned early on that disagreeing led to criticism. Perhaps they received more approval when they complied. Or perhaps, over time, they found that keeping quiet was simply less exhausting than constantly having to defend themselves.

Initially, that response may have been entirely appropriate to their circumstances.

But what happens when something that began as a response to a particular situation becomes a habitual way of behaving?

They stop questioning whether they actually agree. They anticipate other people's reactions. They might apologise before they've done anything wrong.

Eventually, they might find themselves believing they're simply not the sort of person who speaks up, takes risks or makes decisions independently.

But is that genuinely who they are, or who they've learned they need to be?

This is something I frequently encounter in my coaching.

Someone comes to me because they're struggling with confidence in the saddle. Perhaps they constantly second-guess themselves, worry about making mistakes or struggle to trust their own judgement.

But as we begin exploring what's happening, we sometimes discover that the same patterns exist in other areas of their life.

And why wouldn't they?

If you've spent years questioning your decisions, looking for approval or adapting yourself to meet other people's expectations, why would you suddenly become a completely different person when you get on a horse?

Sometimes what looks like a riding-confidence problem is actually something much broader.

And this is where understanding the origins of our beliefs becomes particularly interesting.

Our beliefs about ourselves develop through our experiences, our interpretations of those experiences and the messages we receive from the people around us.

When those messages or experiences are repeated often enough, we can begin treating our conclusions about ourselves as facts.

"I'm not good enough."

"I always get things wrong."

"I can't do it."

And once we've accepted those beliefs, we may start making decisions that reinforce them, often without recognising what's happening.

We avoid situations where we might fail. We look to others for reassurance. We question our own judgement, even when we have the knowledge and ability to make a perfectly good decision.

Each time, the familiar belief gets another opportunity to strengthen.

Until eventually, we stop questioning whether it's actually true.

And that's the interesting question.

Are you responding to what you're genuinely capable of today, or to a belief about yourself that developed years ago?

Because sometimes the circumstances that originally shaped our responses have changed, but our responses haven't.

And recognising that distinction can be the beginning of something quite significant.

You may discover that what you've always considered part of your personality is actually a pattern you've learned.

And learned patterns can be questioned, explored and changed.

Just because you've learned to behave a certain way doesn't mean that's who you have to remain.

💙🐎

24/09/2026

Why is it that teenage children can go days without wanting to spend any meaningful time with you… but are remarkably generous when it comes to sharing their bugs?

September does seem to turn schools and colleges into giant petri dishes.

I’d had a low-grade cold hanging around for a couple of weeks. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to feel a bit rough, a bit wrong, but still perfectly capable of working, coaching and carrying on.

Then this week became the usual parental negotiation of who gets which bit of time.

My husband had a couple of days away doing something fun, which was absolutely fair enough, but it meant I was doing the usual running around, driving here, there and everywhere, working and generally keeping life moving.

I could feel my throat getting worse.

Still fine.
Still functioning.
Still carrying on.

Then he walked back through the door on Tuesday evening and it was almost as if my body went:

“Excellent. Backup has arrived. We can be ill now.”

And apparently took that instruction very seriously.

One minute freezing, the next boiling, feeling sick, head pounding - the full works.

I was supposed to be at the Flying Changes (FCM) CPD day yesterday, which I’d genuinely been looking forward to. I love those days. Time away from the usual routine, catching up with other coaches, learning, talking, laughing - and I normally come home feeling completely invigorated.

Except when my alarm was due to go off, I could barely lift my head off the pillow.

And oddly, that gave me a bit of a wry smile.

Because years ago, I would probably still have been negotiating with myself.

Could I make it?
Could I take something and push through?
Would I be letting people down?
Shouldn’t I just get on with it?

Rest used to make me feel guilty.

Saying no felt uncomfortably close to not being useful.

And that’s one of the things becoming a coach has made me much more aware of: you have to learn to recognise your own patterns too.

One of mine was definitely:

Keep going until your body gives you no choice.

Having had ME/chronic fatigue syndrome in the past, I’ve learned the hard way that this isn’t a particularly clever strategy.

So yesterday I cancelled.

I rested.

Properly.

And, perhaps most importantly, I didn’t spend the day feeling guilty about it.

That felt like progress.

We talk a lot in coaching about listening to the body, but it doesn’t always mean some huge dramatic signal.

Sometimes it’s simply noticing:

I’m tired.
I’m getting run down.
I’m not recovering properly.
I’m pushing because I think I should, rather than because it makes sense.

Your body and your mindset aren’t operating in separate rooms.

Sometimes the useful bit is noticing the information your body is giving you and then not arguing with it.

Even when it means missing the CPD day you actually wanted to go to.

Although I still maintain that teenagers could show slightly less generosity where viruses are concerned. 😂

21/09/2026

A few riding reminders worth keeping.

Some are about skill. Some are about confidence. Some are about the stories we tell ourselves when things don’t go quite to plan.

Which one hit home for you? 💙🐎

19/09/2026

Some riding skills are wildly under-sold.

Opening a gate nicely.

Riding a genuinely round circle.

A straight line.

A decent transition.

All sound simple.
All have humbled generations of riders. 😂

Riding is full of things that look easy right up until you try to do them well.

Which one caught you out? 💙🐎

17/09/2026

A client came to me nervous just mounting up.

Her horse wouldn’t stand still at the block - fidgeting, moving off before she was even in the saddle.

The obvious read?

The horse needs mounting-block training.

We did some of that.

It helped.

A bit.

But not enough.

So we went further.

We worked on getting the horse to relax before anyone asked anything of him. As he relaxed, she relaxed. As she relaxed, he settled further.

That could have been the whole story.

Often, it is.

But this time there was another gap.

Underneath the nervousness about mounting was something much more specific:

The moment she got in the saddle, some part of her decided everything now had to be perfect.

Not just go well.

Perfect.

And a sensitive horse can pick up on that pressure very quickly - before much has even happened.

That belief was never going to be trained out of the horse.

And it wasn’t going to disappear because somebody told her to “just relax” either.

This is the bit of my work I think people see least.

Not just the mindset piece.

Not just the horse-training piece.

The overlap.

Being able to look at the horse, the rider’s body and the rider’s belief system together - and work out which bit is holding the others in place.

Sometimes it’s mostly the horse.

Sometimes it’s mostly the rider.

Quite often, it’s an inconveniently tangled mixture of both. 😂

The thing someone names as the problem -

“My horse won’t stand at the mounting block” -

is often only the visible bit.

The useful bit is finding what’s missing.

Because once you find that gap, everything else can start to move.

If you’ve been going round in circles with your riding, your confidence, your horse - or some frustrating combination of all three - that’s exactly the kind of gap I look for.

Message me and we’ll work out what’s actually missing. 💙🐎

16/09/2026

Your “weird” riding fear probably isn’t that weird.

I fell down a Facebook comment rabbit hole the other day - as you do - reading riders talking about the oddly specific things that make them nervous.

From a mindset-coach point of view, it was fascinating.🧐

Some of the combinations looked completely contradictory.

👉One rider feels sick with nerves getting on… then is fine once she’s in the saddle.

👉Others hate riding or jumping at home but will happily go cross-country.

👉Some are nervous schooling or warming up, then completely fine once they’re actually competing.

👉One rider is nervous cantering around an open field hacking, but put XC fences in that same field and she’s in her element.

Which sounds bonkers.

Except it really isn’t.

Your brain and nervous system don’t simply ask:

“How dangerous is this?”

They are also working with previous experiences, familiar sensations, anticipation, perceived control, support, judgement and what that particular situation has come to mean.

👉So the mounting block may be the difficult bit because that is where all the anticipation lives.

👉A competition may feel easier than the warm-up because once you’re in there, your brain has a clear job.

👉Jumping alone may feel completely different from jumping with somebody on the ground.

👉And a school can feel more threatening than a hack if pressure, judgement or a previous experience has become associated with that environment.

That’s why I’m always interested when somebody says:

“I’m nervous of…”

Because my next question is usually:

“Which bit, exactly?” 🤔

That is often where the useful information is.

So now I’m curious…

What’s the riding situation that makes you think, “Why am I fine with THAT… but not this?” 😂