Struggling Well: Lessons From the Roping Pen

The other day, I found myself at a jackpot, frustrated beyond belief. After a three-hour drive, I had thrown my rope in the dirt and ended the day as added money for the pot. Walking out of the arena with my head hanging low, I was mentally running through everything I could’ve done differently and kicking myself for entering at all. I could have been home working on the never-ending to-do list that seems longer than usual in the winter. The same list will still need to be accomplished after my three-hour drive home. As I was berating myself mentally for “wasting” a day, a younger girl popped up out of nowhere and said something that stopped me in my tracks. She said that I was lucky that I got to rope today and that she wants to be able to rope like me someday.

Now, I am not convinced she actually saw me rope rather than confusing me with one of the other girls on a sorrel mare who caught their calf that round. But her words hit me square in the chest. She was right—I am lucky.

I’m lucky to have the chance to struggle well. Lucky to own a horse that gives me a shot in the pen. Lucky to have a job that allows me to pay my entry fees. Lucky to have good friends who let me practice on their calves or pull the dummy for me in the dark after a long day. I am even lucky to be fighting to break the ice every morning (I should really buy a new trough heater or twelve). 

Of course, I would’ve loved to win a check that day. I would’ve loved to walk out of the arena with a round win, feeling like all my hard work had paid off. But that girl’s comment reminded me to hold on to gratitude instead. I got to go. I get to compete. I get to live the life that I dreamed of having when I was her age. And that’s worth something.

Now, none of this came without effort. The opportunity to enter is a byproduct of hours of sweat, discipline, and a good dose of stubbornness. Roping the dummy and working horses in the snow after dark is miserable. Getting up early to get my chores done before heading to work isn’t fun. Spending weekends at jackpots where nothing seems to go right can make you wonder why you even bother.

But here’s the thing: the struggle itself is part of the reward. It builds resilience. It forces you to appreciate the little victories—like the feel of a good horse, the sound of your hondo popping off after a catch in the practice pen, or the satisfaction of checking things off the to-do list.  It reminds you that every day is an opportunity to struggle well.

Roping, like life, isn’t always about winning. Sometimes it’s about showing up, putting in the effort, and learning from the misses. It’s about having the discipline to push through and get your stuff done because you are building the life that you used to dream of. It’s about having people around you who encourage you to keep going, even when you’re ready to throw in the towel.

So, to the girl who reminded me what a gift it is to rope, thank you. You helped me remember that even on the tough days, I’m living a dream that’s worth every ounce of effort.

To anyone reading this who’s grinding it out in your own arena—whether that’s in the roping pen, your career, or something else entirely—don’t lose sight of the fact that the struggle itself is a privilege. Keep working, keep showing up, and never forget to be grateful that you get to try.

One more thing, remember to give yourself a little grace. You’re not going to crush it every day. You will have days where even discipline isn’t going to get the job done and that's okay. Reset, refocus, and get back to it.