Riding World's Toughest Horse Race

Grace Netter, Class of 2013, likes to say she was “born riding.” Long before she could fully understand it, her love for horses was already taking shape, nurtured by her equestrian mother. By fifth grade, Netter was riding regularly, building a foundation that led to Oaks Christian, where she competed in dressage on the equestrian team during her junior and senior years.

After graduating, Netter followed a different creative path, earning a degree in design and communication from Belmont University and stepping into the fast-paced world of film. Today, she works as a senior visual effects coordinator on major feature films, collaborating with studios like Disney, Netflix, Warner Bros., and Universal. While her professional life revolves around cameras, compositing software, and 3D modeling, the pull of the saddle never left her.

That enduring passion led her to one of the most grueling challenges imaginable: the Mongol Derby, widely considered the longest and toughest horse race in the world. Stretching 625 miles across the vast and untamed Mongolian steppes, the race recreates the ancient postal routes of Genghis Khan. Riders change semi-feral horses every few miles, enduring up to 12 hours a day in the saddle through mountains, valleys, dunes, and bogs—all in extreme and unpredictable weather. It is as raw and demanding as it sounds, and many who begin the race never finish.

The race tested every limit. Each horse brought uncertainty—some bucked, some bolted, others resisted entirely. Navigation was equally demanding, requiring her to chart her own course across unforgiving terrain with only a straight-line GPS as a guide. Days began before dawn and ended in exhaustion, with little sleep, no modern comforts, and constant physical strain. She often rode alone in the wilderness—and even had moments when staying on her horse felt like a matter of survival among the wolves, eagles, and other animals.

“I went to bed at 8:00pm and woke up at 4:30am every day. The weather was anywhere from hot and dry, to cold, rainy, and hailing. I ate so much Mongolian food. I got to try fermented mare’s milk, which was definitely something different! I stayed with herder families, which was so neat to see each of their different lives. I got stuck in a few bogs, was chased by scary dogs. I was stopped by a man with a rifle. There were many harrowing moments where I felt like I had two options; to fall off and die, or stay on and live, so I was staying on!” she said.

Netter heard about the derby in 2017 and was immediately captivated. Though she initially postponed her attempt to focus on launching her film career, the dream never faded. Years later, she applied again and was selected from hundreds of applicants for the 2025 race, an opportunity she embraced as her 30th birthday adventure and a deeply personal challenge. (story continues below)

“I grew up a very timid rider. I wanted to show my younger self that there would be a time when I wouldn’t be scared and could do the hardest race on the planet. I consider myself a great rider but have some physical issues that make it harder for me to ride than a normal person. I was born two months premature, and the doctor told my parents to expect me to be “average” and not thrive. Attempting the race was a way to prove to myself that I could take what I was dealt and go above and beyond,” she said.

There were times she nearly quit. On Day 6, shaken by a difficult horse and adrenaline that wouldn’t subside, she considered dropping out. Later, on Day 9, she rode through excruciating pain, unaware that she had completely torn one ankle and partially torn the other.

“I was in the most pain I’ve ever been in. The medics told me to drop out, but I was just one day away from finishing,” she shared. “Because I was premature, I say I was born without a “quit” option in me. I won the “Keep Buggering On” award at the derby, because the officials were impressed by tenacity and determination under hard circumstances (which I thought was just riding the race!). Other riders told me that they were so invested in watching me get to the finish because I “just wouldn’t die!” What kept me going was taking a moment and then thinking, ‘Why don’t I just try one more time?’ Take it piece by piece, as this race (and life) throws so many things at you. You cannot make a rigid game plan without it being a detriment.”

Ten days after it began, she crossed the finish line as the last rider to complete the race. She was 27 out of the original 45, 18 having dropped out.

“Crossing the finish line was also amazing. It was something that I had dreamed of for so long: a reality just out of this world. Because I was the last rider, it was beyond wild to come over the hill, see the finish flags, and have every rider coming to cheer me on. You better believe I was crying as I crossed,” she said.

To prepare, she trained by riding ponies to simulate the size of the Mongolian horses, swapped out her regular gear for her derby gear to break it in before the race, took endurance-riding and bootcamp, underwent physical therapy months, and worked on muscle building and stamina.

She tore the tendons in both of her ankles and is now awaiting surgery, but is looking ahead to what’s next after she heals. She will continue her goal of riding a horse on every continent (except Antarctica) and has South America and Africa left to experience.

Despite those injuries, she has no regrets, leaving the steppes, having accomplished her goal and coming away with a profound appreciation for Mongolia, the people, and its stunning, pristine countryside.

“It was so cool to get to experience a culture that has been so untouched by modernity, like stepping back in time. They are the last true horse culture. All the horses in the race belonged to local herders, and you could see how proud they were when you drew their horse,” she said.

"They also have a culture of hospitality that was amazing. If you didn’t make it to a horse station before riding hours were up, you had to either camp out or find a family to take you in overnight. I just walked up to a yurt in the middle of nowhere, shouted “Hello!” in Mongolian, and then had to gesture ‘Can I sleep here?’ and was invited in," she said.