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For someone who’d spent her whole life around horses, including competing since she was 7, Ryan Haselden had a terrific 14th birthday lined up – three show jumping competitions, then a celebratory dinner at a hibachi restaurant.

Ryan and her parents, Lindsay and Will, had been at a show in Venice, Florida, for almost two weeks. Ryan and Lindsay were both competing, and all three of them were tending to clients’ horses for competitions.

In the first nine days at the show, Ryan had already competed nine times. She’d placed in most competitions, winning two coveted blue ribbons.

Ryan’s first ride was smooth; she seamlessly cleared all jumps. A few hours after lunch, she mounted her new gelding, Hector Du Gue, for her second competition. The two cantered around the ring to warm up and scaled the first three jumps with ease.

On the way to the fourth jump, Hector cantered toward the opposite side of the ring, then pivoted. When he did, Ryan spilled onto the sandy ground.

In show jumping, riders occasionally fall off their horse. Ryan had her share of tumbles. She always got up, climbed back into the saddle and kept riding.

This time, the fall looked unnatural to Will. So when seconds ticked by and she didn’t move, he leaped out of his seat in the viewing pavilion and ran into the arena. Lindsay – who’d been riding her own horse nearby – cantered over, jumped off her horse and dashed into the ring.

They were quickly joined by two trained first responders: Katy McPhee, who as the show’s on-site EMT had been stationed a few feet away; and Karley Koch, a hospitalist and competitor from Duncan, Oklahoma, who was a spectator in the pavilion for this event.

Meanwhile, someone screamed that they were calling 911.

McPhee and Koch checked Ryan for a pulse. She didn’t have one.

Koch started chest compressions and McPhee began giving rescue breaths. The course designer for the horse show, Eric Mayberry, sprinted to retrieve an automated electronic defibrillator, or AED.

The device flagged an arrhythmia, or abnormal heart rhythm. It delivered a shock. When Koch moved to start CPR again, Ryan gasped and her eyes popped open.

She saw Lindsay and Will hovering over her and began to cry.

Ryan was airlifted to the closest emergency room to make sure she was stable. She was, so she was transferred to a nearby pediatric trauma center. Initial tests investigated whether her fall caused her cardiac arrest. That made the most sense, Will and Lindsay thought, since Ryan didn’t have any known major health issues.

But further testing revealed a problem with her heart’s electrical system: a rare but serious genetic condition known as catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia, or CPVT. It causes the heart to beat abnormally fast during exercise or stress.

CPVT is typically diagnosed between the ages of 7 and 12, but it can also be diagnosed later in life, even into adulthood. It’s most often treated with medicine and an implantable cardioverter defibrillator, or ICD, to monitor heart rhythm and deliver a shock if necessary.

Ryan was transferred to a third hospital better equipped to help her. A week after her cardiac arrest, she had an ICD implanted in her shoulder. As she recovered, her friends called and family came to visit. Two Olympic show jumpers sent her messages of encouragement.

Ryan and her parents left the hospital two days later and drove to Ocala, Florida, where they keep their horses in the offseason. Lindsay’s business partner had taken the horses there after the show. Ryan was able to pet Hector and feed him treats.

A week after her surgery, Ryan returned home to Georgia. Dozens of family and friends gathered for a belated birthday dinner – still at a hibachi restaurant – and cookie cake.

Ryan spent the next two months resting, which meant no riding. She had a stress test to see how her heart worked during exercise.

Everything looked good. Her doctor cleared her to get back to competing.

“My fitness level was lower and my stamina wasn’t as good,” Ryan said. But she gradually built herself back up. Now, “I’m still able to do everything pretty much.”

Ryan takes medications daily, including one to slow her heart rate and block adrenaline, to reduce her risk of abnormal rhythms during stress or exercise.

Will and Lindsay are staying informed about possible treatment options, including a surgery that directly targets the body’s response to adrenaline, called left cardiac sympathetic denervation.

Ryan’s recent stress test was “exceptional,” Will said, “so there’s no need to run toward anything else.” He’s hopeful that as therapies continue to advance, she may one day no longer need daily medication. For now, “Ryan can be confident and lead a normal life.”

The family is grateful that, over the past 10 years, the science around CPVT has evolved to show that with careful management, many people with the condition don’t have to live a sedentary life, which can lead to other health complications. Instead, under a doctor’s supervision, it’s possible to continue engaging in some form of physical activity.

Ryan plans to continue riding and honing her skills in the sport. She dreams of representing the United States in show jumping in the Olympics. She also aspires to become a pediatric cardiologist.

“I’ve been feeling great these days, and being at the barn makes me extremely happy,” said Ryan, who thinks about her experience every day. “I’m not sure when I won’t, but I’ve felt like my normal happy, bubbly self. I want to share my story with children in similar circumstances and show them that they can still achieve their dreams.”

Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.