Fiona cleared the third fence with inches to spare. Her horse ‘Ben' pulled as she flew around the training course. They showered through the water jump, then soared the tire jump, the woodpile, the brush fence. She thundered around a bend to a wildly cheering crowd. The excitement became infectious. The canter became a gallop as Ben sailed over the last fence. Going clear, she fled across the finish line. She was in first place after dressage. Stadium jumping would be a cinch. For sure, she'd clean up first place. She didn't. Her reckless cross-country ride resulted in Ben being lame, again. Instead of pacing the timed ride, she'd raced it. Instead of riding with caution, she'd pushed Ben. But greater peril threatened Fiona. She was not only obsessed with winning; she had become possessed by the sport itself.

Sound familiar? Hopefully not.

Almost everything anyone wants to do with horses is out there. There are endless opportunities in English and Western disciplines, and in distance competition. All you need is a horse to do the job, a coach to show you how, a truck and trailer to get there, and a wad of cash to pay for it. For a home-based teen, it's often the parents' cash that is shelled as out as each feeds on a duality of glory - childhood thrills for parental pride. The endless goal is to win. The syndrome pervades all sports: ice hockey, gymnastics, figure skating, track and field, swimming. Friends ask how you are doing and you rattle off a roster of ribbons - it never occurs to you that they are inquiring about your health. But if you sense you missed something, you did. You just might have crossed that thin, fatal line between the enjoyment of a healthy competitive activity, to being so possessed by your sport that you've lost the bigger picture of life's priorities.

Volumes have been written about the psychology of winning, the competitive edge, and getting to the winner's circle. But is there a fall-out to this all-consuming North American obsession for success? I recall watching a rider finally winning a flat class for the first time. Instead of being thrilled, she grumbled under her breath that it was "about time she won". I knew of a guy who would throw second place ribbons on the ground in disgust. It was first or nothing for him. I figure he'll always be nothing.

Don't misunderstand. There is nothing wrong with obsession if you are really serious about your sport and you've got the passion under control. To compete to any level of competence today you have to be focused, committed and determined. It takes time, effort, energy and money. You not only want results, you need them to justify the commitment in the first place. Results mean winning. But the commitment to compete and the obsession for results can cross an invisible line to an emotionally dangerous place where you are possessed by the sport itself. You live it, breathe it, become so all-consumed by all levels of it, that the more important things in life are neglected or, worse, forgotten. It's time for some checkpoints.

The higher the competition level, the tougher and more technical it gets. Are you ready for it? Is your teenage rider ready for it? Or are you riding a thin line between the obsession to compete and the raw physical demands of actually doing it. Only a cold, clear mind can answer that. But if the sport has possessed your judgement, you could be a heartbeat from disaster.

What about family and friends. Have you seen them lately? Or is your life a blur of entry deadlines, working, training and trailering from one show ground to the next? Many young riders would come to a nose-flattening halt in their competitive lives without the support of family - money for costs, the truck and trailer to get the horse and its accessories to the event, coaching fees, feed, vet and farrier bills, tack and supplies. Many families have moved mountains to create opportunities for their children; it has almost become a social statement. Parents budget, scrimp, save, and go without other things to get the teen and the horse to a line-up of shows. But there's a "fine line" danger when the whole family is feeding into the win-syndrome frenzy: the child is possessed by the sport; the family is obsessed with seeing the child win.

There's no question that sports is one of life's greatest character builders and any level of success is one of life's most enduring treasures. It's a question of balance. Thousands of riders who have matured with their sport know that what it really gave them went far beyond a ribbon. While each competition was a momentary experience, the real prize was how the experience helped them grow and become successful in other things. Sure, they were passionate, obsessed with riding, even possessed by the competition. But maturity brought balance and wonderful memories. As for the horse, he taught patience, the need to expect the unexpected, the ability to be gracious in defeat and, yes, to be really grateful for that final ribbon. And there's one thing you can be sure of. When all those ribbons are gathering dust on a wall somewhere, he'll be in the barn still chomping a hole in your wallet.