At 10 a.m. sharp, Orchid Bertelsen was ready. 

Forms filled out. Credit card saved. Filters pre-selected. Cursor hovering. 

“It’s literally like trying to get Taylor Swift tickets,” she said, laughing. 

The mission? Summer camp registration. 

“In previous years, it was fully booked by 10:03,” she explained. “So, the night before, I needed to make sure everything was filled out. I needed to make sure my credit card information was right. I needed to be able to get in and get out.” 

When she finally secured her daughter’s spot, she texted her husband: it's done. “And then I needed a nap,” she said. “I’d been stressing about it.” 

For years, Orchid’s adrenaline rushes have been reserved for her children, for logistics, deadlines, and making sure everyone else’s life runs smoothly. At 43, the Detroit-based e-commerce professional and mother of two is used to being ready at 10 a.m. for someone else. 

Only recently has she started showing up like that for herself. 

She first fell in love with horses as a child and started riding when she was 10 years old through her local park district program in the Chicagoland area. By her early teens, Orchid owned an off-track Thoroughbred named “Justin” (“Who names their horse an actual man name? Apparently, I do,” she joked) and showed on the regional B circuit, including memorable trips to Ledges Sporting Horses & Show Grounds in Roscoe, Ill. 

She rode from ages 10 to 14. At the time, it felt like it was forever. In reality, it was four formative years. 

“I quit for the same reason a lot of people quit,” she says. “You get burned out. It stops being about loving the sport and starts being about having to show. And I was a teenager — I wanted to do ‘normal’ teenage things.” 

She rode casually in college and trail rode while traveling with her husband. But for 25 years, horses were no longer central. Career, children, and caretaking took precedence. 

After losing her mother to breast cancer in 2023, Orchid became the primary support system for her stepfather. 

She relocated him, navigated Medicaid and assisted living applications, and absorbed the emotional weight of being an only child responsible for aging parents who hadn’t planned for retirement.  

She describes herself as part of the “sandwich generation” — caring for young children and elderly parents at the same time. 

“There was just never really time for anything for me personally,” she admitted. 

For a long time, returning to riding felt impractical. Financially irresponsible, even. Assisted living can cost $10,000 a month. Emergencies happen. What if she needed that money? 

But eventually, she realized something else: life cannot only be logistics. 

For Christmas that year, Orchid asked her husband for a six-pack of riding lessons at a barn 10 minutes from their home. 

“You know how that goes,” she said. “You think, ‘I’ll just have a casual weekly hobby.’” 

Two months later, she was riding twice a week. 

“I’m not a casual person,” she said. “So, I was like, OK — full send.” 

After 25 years out of the saddle, she approached the sport differently than she had when she was a teen. She’s become more responsible, more aware, and more conscious of risk. But she also became clearer about what she wanted.  

“You remember what it felt like when you were younger, back when you considered yourself better,” she explained. “It’s hard to just be OK when you know there’s more in there.” 
 

That’s how Beau entered the picture. 

Beau, a 17.3-hand, 2016 Selle Francias gelding who shows under the name "Parier Sur l'Amour" which means "Betting on Love" in English, is owned by her trainer at Grosse Pointe Equestrian. Orchid described him as sensitive, expressive, and not inclined to tolerate unclear communication. 

“If I don’t have contact in both reins, he’s like, ‘I’m not dealing with your nonsense today,’” Orchid said.  

Unlike forgiving lesson horses, Beau offers immediate feedback: tossing his head or swishing his tail if the signal isn’t clean.  

“It’s a tight feedback loop,” she explained. “A horse like this can make me a better rider.” 
 
After an introductory lesson and a match-making inquiry with her trainer, she opted for a half-lease with Beau. Three rides a week felt like the maximum she could realistically sustain as a working mom.  

 “That sounds funny,” she said. “Like, why is it hard to find time for myself three times a week? But it is. You have to reorient your life around horses. You can’t just tack it on.” 

She shares the lease with a 13-year-old rider, an experience that’s equal parts humbling and hilarious. But, instead of being intimidated, she leans into curiosity. 
 
That same curiosity extends beyond the barn aisle. 

Orchid doesn’t have many friends who ride. When she returned to the barn, she turned to the place many modern adults process their lives: the internet. 

On Instagram and TikTok at @OrchidInTheSaddle, she documents her second-wave return with humor, candor, and sharp analysis. 

“I found that a lot of equestrian content was either ultra-elite and aspirational — which is fun to watch, like ‘Real Housewives’ — or true beginners filming blurry lesson footage,” she says. “There wasn’t much for people like me.” 

People like her: adult amateurs with careers, a disposable income, and the self-awareness to admit they don’t know everything. 

She posts her own content, taking on the theory that if you don’t see what you want, you create it yourself. Her videos feature candid product reviews and are transparent about what she purchases herself versus what is gifted. If something she believes it’s overpriced, she says so. 

“This is my money,” she explained. “I’m going to be honest.” 

With more than 20 years of experience working in digital marketing and innovation, Orchid approaches equestrian consumer culture with a critical lens. She posts honest product reviews, clearly disclosing what she buys herself versus what is gifted and doesn’t shy away from price-point conversations. 

She’s especially interested in user experience (UX) design in equestrian retail from checkout flows to filtering systems to how brands communicate value. 

“So many equestrian sites feel outdated or hard to navigate,” she explained. “If adult amateurs are the ones self-funding this sport, why aren’t we designing better for them?” 

Her content sits at the intersection of rider, consumer, and strategist. She questions the growing polarization of the market. 

“It feels like there’s no middle anymore,” she says. “Who are brands actually serving?” 

In asking those questions publicly, Orchid creates space for other adult amateurs to feel seen — not as aspiring professionals, but as capable, curious athletes rediscovering their place in the sport. 

That shift mirrors her own evolution in the saddle. 

As a teenager, placings mattered. Ribbons mattered. Proving something mattered. Now, what feels meaningful is different: partnership, communication, and doing right by the horse underneath her. 

When Beau recently needed his teeth floated and front shoes replaced just days before a schooling show, the old instinct might have been to push through, to make the date, and chase the clear round. Instead, she paused. 

“Let’s just give him time,” she said. “I don’t really have an ego anymore. I just want to feel balanced. I want to feel like we have a partnership. I want to feel like I’m doing right by him.”  

Orchid is part of a growing group of adult amateurs returning to the sport after decades away — riders rediscovering something they loved before careers, children, and caregiving filled every available space. 

She joked about not being “athletic,” but riding three times a week while managing a full-time corporate career and a household is no small feat. 

More importantly, she rides with humility.  

“I think being successful in this sport means acknowledging you don’t know anything,” she says. “Every horse is different. You can be in it 30 years and still be learning.”