Written by Claire Binkowski
This story originally appeared in the February 2026 issue of Premier.
Horse shows have always been as social as they are competitive—places where long days often end with a drink in hand. Post-show beers and cocktails are so deeply woven into the culture that many can hardly imagine the horse show experience without them. Yet what begins as casual camaraderie can, for some, quietly become something more complicated. While many enjoy a drink responsibly, others find themselves reaching for it more often than they realize, using alcohol to unwind, to connect, or simply to cope.
For Mark Russell and Brice Howell—both with deep roots in the show horse industry—that pattern became all too familiar. Alcohol once felt like a natural part of the lifestyle, seamlessly stitched into celebrations, long workdays, and the very rhythm of showing. Over time, however, what began as social drinking evolved into something that threatened their health, strained their relationships, and clouded their sense of self.
Today, both men are sober—and willing to speak openly about the choices that led them there.
A Culture That Normalizes Drinking
Mark Russell grew up in Southeast Texas, showing “just about everything” as a youth through 4-H, open shows and AQHA competition before eventually becoming a trainer himself. Today, he and his wife, Emily, focus on ranch events, breed a small band of mares, and raise their children alongside their horses. Beyond his work at home, Mark serves as President of the Arkansas Quarter Horse Association, is an AQHA, APHA, NSBA, and NRCHA judge, and works as the Extension Horse Specialist for the University of Arkansas.
Like many in the industry, alcohol entered his life casually.
“I wasn’t an everyday drinker, but more a multiple-days-a-week drinker toward the end,” Mark shares. “It started as casual, mostly social drinking. As time went on, it showed up as a way to celebrate a good day, numb a bad one, and everything in between.”
Over time, alcohol worked its way into ordinary moments, offering an added sense of ease. “One of my favorite things back then was to drink a beer while I was working outside,” he says. “It made the mundane things in life more fun.”
Brice Howell’s story follows a similar arc. He grew up showing as a youth before relinquishing his non-pro card in the early 2000s. Today, he works largely behind the scenes, helping producers put on the very events he once competed in, while also balancing life has a husband to his wife, Sydney, and a father to their daughter, Memphis.
Brice says alcohol entered his life in college. “I started drinking in college,” he says. “It went from social drinking to something that was part of my daily life.” Over time, it took on multiple roles—“something to cut loose, a stress relief, and at times even something to help control anxiety.”
In an industry defined by long days, high pressure, and a culture of hospitality centered on entertaining clients, neither man felt particularly out of place in his drinking. In many ways, it wasn’t just accepted—it was expected.
“I feel like society, especially the horse show industry, views drinking as almost a must,” Brice says. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved it more than anyone.”
Mark and Brice are far from alone. According to 2024 data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), excessive alcohol use is far more common than many people realize. While about 62 percent of adults in the United States report drinking alcohol, 17 percent say they engaged in binge drinking in the past year—defined as four or more drinks for women or five or more for men on a single occasion—and six percent report heavy drinking, meaning eight or more drinks per week for women or fifteen or more for men. These patterns are linked to increased health and social risks, contributing to an estimated 178,000 deaths each year—nearly 500 every day—along with billions of dollars lost annually to healthcare costs and reduced productivity.
Mark Russell & Family
For Mark and Brice, those numbers are no longer abstract. They reflect a culture they lived in—one where drinking was normalized, encouraged, and rarely questioned.
Different Wake-Up Calls, Same Crossroads
Mark doesn’t describe a single rock-bottom moment. Instead, the consequences crept in quietly.
“As I got older, the alcohol affected me differently,” he says. “I was grumpier toward my kids and started ridiculous arguments with my wife. I also started to get something called ‘hangxiety’ the next morning pretty frequently, which is a combination of anxiety coupled with a hangover.”
What once felt like relief began taking him to “a darker place,” slowly pulling him away from the people who mattered most. “Alcohol separated me from family moments and memories,” he says. “I used to think I could handle moderate drinking, but I couldn’t.”
Brice’s turning point came more abruptly—and nearly cost him his life.
“I was admitted to the hospital for severe pancreatitis caused by heavy alcohol consumption,” he shares. “I spent 8 days in the ICU, and the doctors informed my wife that if I didn’t make major changes, I could die. That was a huge wake-up call.”
What Sobriety Gave Them Back
Research has long shown that excessive drinking can disrupt sleep, worsen anxiety and depression, impair emotional regulation, and increase feelings of shame and irritability—effects that often linger well beyond the last drink. For both men, sobriety revealed what alcohol had quietly taken away.
“I didn’t know I was missing moments when I was drinking,” Mark says. “What I thought was living in the moment was anything but that.”
Over time, alcohol had dulled his presence and heightened emotional volatility—a pattern common among people who drink frequently. Sobriety, he says, gave him consistency: rested mornings, steadier emotions, and freedom from the mental burden of replaying what he might have said or done the night before.
“Sobriety has allowed me to get my marriage back on track and be the husband and father God intended me to be,” he says. “Now I’m able to show up as a better partner to my wife and be more present and active with my children. It’s also improved my professional life. I work harder and with more purpose than I used to. The goal used to be rushing through the day so I could reward myself with a beer. Now it’s being grateful for the day and rewarding myself with time with my family.”
Brice’s answer is simpler, but no less powerful. “Peace, honestly,” he says. “I was always looking for my next drink to give me confidence or settle my nerves.”
While alcohol is often used to blunt anxiety, studies show it ultimately worsens stress and anxiety over time, creating a cycle of dependence rather than relief. “I realize now I don’t need a drink to make the next sale or get to the next horse show,” Brice adds.
Both men speak candidly about confidence—how alcohol once felt like a tool, and how sobriety forced them to trust themselves instead.
“I’m an introvert,” Mark says, “so I wrongly thought alcohol loosened me up and helped me to be more outgoing.” Letting go of alcohol meant learning to sit with discomfort rather than escaping it. “You learn that it’s okay to be uncomfortable sometimes,” he says. “Your problems don’t automatically go away when you quit drinking, but you learn to deal with them better.”
