As I looked up from my phone and stretched my stiff legs, the view of the German countryside blurred before me. Andy and I were clipping along the Autobahn at some metric warp speed that I lack the mathematical skills to convert to mph.

On April 1 we moved to a new farm and life since then has been wonderfully chaotic.

Between settling in 17 horses, moving my house and generally getting the lay of the land, it’s been a non-stop marathon. But it’s great. I love the place. I have enthusiastic, supportive clients who have done everything from moving furniture to building jumps. And in the midst of moving all of the things, I’ve also been moving my horses up the competitive ladder.

When you’re walking a course and the rails are above your boobs, you may start to question some life choices. But I finally did it—I competed in some big classes and I didn’t vomit or fall off.

In fact, I laid down respectable rounds. And I learned a few things. For starters: once the jumps get above 1.20-meter, they’re just big. The difference between 1.0-meter and 1.10-meter seems much vaster than the difference between 1.20-meter and 1.30-meter. And then you really start having crazy thoughts that the 1.40-meter doesn’t seem so huge after all.

I’m a nerd. I’m always trying in my geeky way to learn something from life. And in the last year I’ve learned a lot about myself and the kind of life I want to live. There are not words to comprehensively describe how losing my mom has changed me; but I notice little angles, facets of my personality that have been recut.