Note:  With wrapping up a semester and preparing for graduation, this post is a bit late, but still is one I wanted to share.  It was written before the Derby.

I attended my first Thoroughbred Owners’ and Breeders’ Association [TOBA] seminar, one specifically covering ownership, on April 18^th and 19^th. I had joined TOBA recently as well. I knew of the organization just from years of reading the Blood Horse, one of many resources TOBA has a hand in producing. But until Carrie Vaught, the marketing director for TOBA, was invited to speak to the Horse Racing club at the University of Kentucky, I never knew you didn’t have to be an owner or breeder to join, or what the benefits of joining are. It helped that there is a student membership fee, and that they try to put their seminars within financial reach of students too. Once I looked at the benefits and learning and networking opportunities they provide, it made perfect sense to join. I have spent a lot of my time at the University of Kentucky pursuing job leads, contacts, and anything I can to fit in more horse knowledge in general or racing industry knowledge, specifically. A lot of this has been practical hands-on work at several different farms, while other pursuits have been more about learning from people speaking of their work and knowledge they have gained in the course of that work.

A lot of the opportunities to learn from industry professionals, outside of class, came about because of my membership in the racing club at school. Professionals speak at our meetings, and usually once a month there are trips to farms to learn from them in their working environment.

My absolute favorite trip we took, for its educational aspect, was when we were invited to Ken McPeek’s Magdalena Farm, early in the days of my enrollment at UK. He took a lot of time to show us around his farm, tell us about his training methods in general, show us horses at the farm that were there either to have a bit of R&R or rehab, or to be prepared for the track if they were young and unraced. It even coincidentally came up that he had a fluency in Portuguese, while we were in the farm office and noticed the sales catalogs in Portuguese on the shelves. It was a fascinating glimpse into his training methods, and before that visit, I didn’t even know he had his own farm. That seems like a great step for a trainer, if they can take it, to have their own place to rehab their horses and give them space to be turned out and have a little breather from the track now and then.

Tying this in to TOBA and their seminar that I just attended, what drew me in was similar opportunities to get a look at another farm’s operation and training regimen for their horses, and really glean a lot of insight into what goes into getting horses ready for the track. I don’t know if I’ll ever own a racehorse; yet I do have to admit that there is a part of me that wants to someday at some point. If I don’t, I will still feel professional and personal fulfillment just by being part of the racing industry with my career. But the part of me that has seen from several people in this industry that you never know where being involved in racing may ultimately lead knows that I can’t say it’s impossible that I will own a horse. For now, that’s one of those goals that is more in the “wish” column and not nearly as pressing as what I’m trying to achieve now, meaning that it really isn’t on my radar that often. So if I do ever own a horse, it will have been valuable to me to attend this seminar. And even if I never own a racehorse, I am just so interested in soaking up everything I can learn from everyone that there is an opportunity to learn from, and made me feel that I needed to attend this seminar.

In a week that had seen rain almost every day, when the seminar began on a Friday that had also called for rain, the day couldn’t have been more perfect. It was April 18^th, and we set out for Winstar Farm under bright blue skies and perfect temperatures.   The sunny skies and unexpectedly picture-perfect day made it feel like an auspicious day to be around horses for several hours. I later realized another reason the date felt so significant. It would have been the incredible Cigar’s 25^th birthday, and was the first anniversary of his birth since he died a little over six months ago.

I had always reflected on him on that date and what he meant to me, still the best and most accomplished Thoroughbred I watched race, but it seemed in the flurry of getting ready for the seminar it had momentarily slipped my mind. I no longer felt sad he was gone, as sad as I had when he left. The saddest thing about his loss was just how sudden it was, how there’d been little time to prepare for it. Apparently he had been monitored for health concerns for some time, but I hadn’t realized how serious it had been until he was gone. But he had a full life, exemplary care, and the loving admiration of many visitors to the Horse Park, year in and year out.

He was a king of that domain. It was clear to anyone who saw him in his pasture that he knew it, and it showed when he was presented during his turn in the ring in Hall of Champion shows. The click of a camera shutter and the days of acclaim on the track definitely showed they lingered in his mind when he was presented to the audiences at the Park. So the sadness did not come from feeling his life had ended prematurely – even though it’s hard to imagine you can ever be ready to see a horse you followed for nearly two decades be gone – or that it had not been a good one.

Paul Simon has a song with the lyric, “the course of a lifetime runs over and over again.” I used to interpret this as meaning some things we may experience multiple times, such as the beginning of a new romantic relationship, or grief, or even the way I find myself at every Keeneland meet, spring to fall and back again.

The day this seminar started I came to see it another way. It was still about things occasionally coming full circle, but was also more about being led back to our true selves. I’m sure everyone can stray from who they really are and what they really love from time to time, whether it’s because of work obligations or any number of things. A day like today, having several hours to spend among nature and farmland as far as the eye can see, with the only noise being the breathing of horses and quiet commentary now and then about which horses we were seeing, and information about their training and how it prepares them for the track, did feel like one that brought me back to how much I love being at the farms. It is through these times of coming back to our true selves that we can even sometimes get new perspective. We really can almost be multiple people in a lifetime, not in the sense of having split personalities, but just due to growth and change, to being altered by experiences. Sometimes it can feel like we’ve lived many lives in one lifetime. Who I felt I was the day Cigar died is not who I feel I am now, on the 25^th anniversary of his birth.

I’d say some of the other people who attended the seminar may have visited Lexington before, since it is such an epicenter of Thoroughbred racing and breeding and most of them were owners or potential owners. But several of them exclaimed over the landscape we passed on the way to Winstar, and once we arrived on how pastoral it is and how holistic some of the treatments their horses receive are. Seeing Lexington and the horse farms through their eyes reminded me of how I felt it was paradise when first visited, just like seeing racing through my nephew’s eyes at his first visit to the track gave me a new lens to see it. It was the kind of day to fully remind you why you love racing; not that I forgot that or why I love the horse side of this community but sometimes fresh glimpses are great. Spending the day with like-minded racing enthusiasts in a haven for us and the horses alike was just what I needed.

As far as the educational aspect of the visit, we first visited their outdoor swimming pool developed outdoors that looks a lot like a pond, though it is set up with its own filtration system and stocked with carp to keep it clean. It is useful for developing yearlings for the sales, and for providing rehab to racehorses. We then watched workouts on Winstar’s own training track, a synthetic surface that allows them to train year-round, and also have more flexibility for when their horses can train than they would if they were training at a track. Subsequently, they do employ a farm trainer and exercise riders. That alone makes them unique among horse farms in this area. The track also has a separate component that leads off from the polytrack surface, and it provides an uphill, European-style turf course.

We had been joined by farm owner Elliott Walden when we were being told about the pool, and he walked down to the training track with us. This is an exciting time for Winstar. It’s not surprising, considering the depth of their stallion roster and all the work they put training homebreds and purchased horses that they have two serious and legitimate Kentucky Derby contenders with farm ties this year. Naturally, though that would still be incredible for any farm. Primarily West Coast-based American Pharoah is by their stallion Pioneer Ofthe Nile, and they own Carpe Diem in partnership with Stonestreet Farms. Carpe Diem has already made a large mark on the current Keeneland meet, winning the Blue Grass Stakes on opening weekend, and being accorded near rock-star status the morning we visited the farm. Keeneland harrowed the track and closed it to all horses but Carpe Diem that morning for him to train at 10:15, when he zipped through four furlongs in 48 seconds flat, a work watched by trainer Todd Pletcher, Elliott Walden, and quite a few spectators who applauded his entrance to the track to work. I would have liked to go over and see his work, but my friend saw him and got photos.

So back to the training at Winstar that morning: we saw quite a few promising two-year-olds, as pointed out by the farm trainer. Our guide at the farm, assistant trainer Sean Tugel, explained a lot about what results they plan to get and what they are looking for with the training, especially for the two-year-olds. He had a wealth of knowledge and the farm trainer elaborated upon horse names and pedigrees of the horses we were seeing, in between giving instructions to the riders and watching the works. Tugel told us the Keeneland gate crew comes over once a week for the horses to have gate training and that affords them time to get the horses well-versed in gate “manners” and etiquette. He said that all of their horses are well-mannered in the gate, and they work with them to stand quietly and take a cue for when to begin a work as well, instead of just taking off as soon as they get to the track.

 

In between sets of horses training, we went into one of two training/rehab barns and watched the flow of equine traffic while Tugel and Reed Ringler of Fasig Tipton, our seminar moderator, explained more about what you look for in a young horse at a sale, what you want to see in a horse coming off a breeze, a work, or just a routine gallop – they are offered water at each cooling-out lap of the barn but the less water they take, the more fit they are.

The barn, as I knew from several equine classes I had taken, was ideal for horses. It was very well-ventilated, with a unique roof structure set well above the stalls instead of snugly on top of them, and the stalls were all composed of a metal grid structure, both of these being features that allowed a lot of air flow. I could tell the air flow, even without the large fans going that were in the barn, was excellent. There wasn’t any discernible dust or hay particles and the air just felt incredibly fresh and refreshing.   For athletes who need good lung capacity, that type of design can’t be underestimated.

We also got to see Daredevil and Khozan, related to stellar racemare Royal Delta, while in the barn. Then it was back to the track for the next sets to train, including horses that were described as their most promising two-year-olds. Who knows, they may be the Daredevil and Khozan, or the American Pharoah and the Carpe Diem, of their Winstar crop. A lot can change for a young horse from the farm to the track, and even those with lots of promise don’t always get the hang of racing right away. I’ve heard it said many times, the lightbulb has to come on and for those that get it, when that light switch does flick on, they can be a horse to be reckoned with. Hearing their praise for these horses, though, and seeing for myself their raw potential, I will definitely keep an eye on them in the future, especially the Tapit colt Creator.

Leaving Winstar and returning to the hotel where the first day of the seminar talks conducted by industry professionals were held, one of the most enlightening things to me was all the free services and wealth of information about racehorses that can be gleaned from Equineline. The option to build a horse portfolio most intrigued me.

I then attempted to get to Keeneland for the first race prior to going to work. Samantha Nicole, Rachel Alexandra’s full sister, was entered. I hadn’t seen her since she sold as a yearling at Keeneland a few years ago, and I was struck then by how similar to Rachel she looked. Her race career had been brief to date, and this would be only her fourth start.

Turned out, there just wasn’t enough time to get from the seminar to the track at the time I left, but I was pleased to hear she won, breaking her maiden that day. Whether she will go on to bigger things now remains to be seen but for this day it was a bright spot that she won at a great track. I went home pleased with the seminar experience, the news of Samantha Nicole’s win, and that there was a check from Coady Photography waiting in the mail. It was so much more generous than the pay I normally receive, from my “unskilled” labor jobs. One day I’ll find my permanent place in the racing world, and I am eager to step into a position at Coady when one arises. So far I’ve only done the Keeneland meets for them, but with graduation so close at hand and a greater flexibility to leave Lexington and to have time freed up from homework and studying, it is a possibility.

The seminar continued on a Sunday morning. It rained practically non-stop throughout the morning, a stark contrast to the brilliant sunny day spent at Winstar. Of course, given how rainy it had been this month that weather did seem more the norm.

We began the day with breakfast and a visit to trainer Ian Wilkes’ shedrow. For those who don’t know, he is Australian and apprenticed under Carl Nafzger, famously known for training Derby winners Unbridled and Street Sense. Wilkes told us a little about a horse he had training that morning, one who apparently was lazy in the mornings but stellar in races. That naturally led me to wonder if a horse will give any inclination he is talented at racing even if he shows little in the mornings? Wilkes said not really, that you just have to get them in a race and let them show you. He said you really do just have to get them in a race sometimes to see what kind of talent they are working with. He also said it can take five races before you really know what kind of horse you have, talent-wise, and that there can also be a learning curve, a few races needed just for the “lightbulb” to come on. I told him I’ve heard that before about the light bulb, that horses really do need it just to all come together and click in their minds sometimes, and when it does hopefully you realize you’ve got a good one on your hands. Wilkes was so gracious and really took the time to answer our questions.

Those were some of my favorite things about this seminar. It was incredibly informative, and everyone from Carrie Vaught at TOBA, to Keeneland, to all the speakers and people we visited like Wilkes and everyone at Winstar, were so gracious and welcoming. Because of the seminar, I got to have my first meal ever in the Phoenix Room, an occasion that called for dressy clothes. Stepping into this fourth-floor dining room was like stepping into another world. Don’t get me wrong, I love being at the rail and the paddock and in the midst of all the action, but it was wonderful to experience a world of privilege I rarely get to be a part of. Uniformed attendants were present at each door, from the ones in the hallway leading from the elevator, to the ones providing entrance to the Phoenix Room. It’s hard not to feel like you’re somebody when people are standing by just to open doors for you. Absolutely, Keeneland service from the grandstand to the top floor is better than most racetracks provide. But the level of service up there was on another level. And to be perfectly honest, it was a relief to be away from the hordes of frat boys and people so drunk they have trouble locating bathrooms. It was a place for gentility and civilized behavior, and it fit with the serenity I love to experience at Keeneland. It also was interesting to see the track from new perspectives. It was second only to the view on the roof outside the media box in terms of favorite vantage points at Keeneland.

As I left after watching the day’s racing, the spring blossoms were starting to fall to earth and give way to light green leaves on the trees, reflecting the ephemeral nature not only of spring but of the Keeneland meets.  They are wonderful but fleeting, and it came to me that we really were zooming to the end of the meet. It always happens so much more quickly than you’d think it would, even knowing the meets are brief.  Yet it also almost seems like so long ago Bravo was speaking in the jockey Q&A and Carpe Diem found his success and Derby path in the Blue Grass.

Speaking of Carpe Diem, I passed by to see him when I left, but he was not in the mood for visitors.  It was day’s end after all.

I left with the smoothness of bread pudding on my tongue; that is bliss too, just as being at the track and finding a space of stillness in watching the horses is.  There was happy solitude underneath the pink flowering trees, and I turned away, hoping to return for one more day of racing before the horses disperse to other tracks and the Derby hopefuls converge upon Churchill Downs.  I have a few more horses I hope to see, a few more golden hours at this track before picking up the threads of my usual work life.  It’s been a sweet interlude, as always.

 

This is just a brief post to showcase Keeneland a little bit. For me, when March rolls around and the first warm days start to flow in, it means only one thing.  The countdown to Keeneland’s spring meet is on.  It means even more now that I am lucky enough to work for Coady Photography.  This year, too, my graduation from college is finally almost at hand, and getting to work in a career, doing what I love, is within reach.  So with spring slowly starting to roll in, it signifies quite a few countdowns.

Keeneland, of course, has its own countdown to a milestone achievement this year: hosting their first Breeders’ Cup ever.  For a track that has seen some of the biggest names in horse racing, human and equine, grace its stage – and even hosted a queen – it is another feather in their cap.

In fact, what brought me to Keeneland on this lovely sunny day was to see the recently-arrived Breeders’ Cup statue on their grounds for the first time ever.  As I climbed the stairs to the path that flanks the paddock and walking ring on either side, the statue was positioned straight ahead, a silent mark of things to come.

 

 

It was exciting to see. I have spent so many wonderful days at Keeneland, and long before I began working for Coady, it felt like a second home to me, always welcoming and inviting.  I have seen so many thrilling moments here as well, and greatly look forward to their first Breeders’ Cup being yet another cascade of them.

 

It seemed fitting, too, as I looked ahead to another Keeneland meet and their first Breeders’ Cup that I noticed this sign for the first time ever, right behind the BC statue.  I’ve been going to Keeneland for over a decade now and never even saw this until now.  Gems still wait to be discovered there, just like at their last meet when I discovered parts of the grounds (or more accurately, buildings and rooftop views) I never knew existed, as part of the course of the photographer workday.

 

 

I just love the artistry and workmanship of the statue.

 

I left after my brief visit on a beautiful day.  See you in April, Keeneland, when it all begins again. Always one of the highlights of my year!

I made my way to Our Mims on the first truly warm day central Kentucky experienced in quite a while.  Two huge snowfalls within three weeks had made the tail end of winter range from unpleasant, to “car-stuck-in-the-snow” inconvenient.  One thing I’ve learned from my years of living in Kentucky is that you can never quite say winter is fully over just because March arrives.  I’ve seen blizzards hit at the Keeneland meet in April, but it almost seemed safe to say we’d seen the last of the huge snowfalls for this winter.

As I drove to Paris, one town over from Lexington for my appointment at Old Mims, I quickly left urban sprawl behind. There are some beautiful historic homes and areas in Lexington, but the whole reason I moved here was due to falling under the spell of the wide open spaces that horses inhabit here; that and the almost cathedral or canopy-like effect of the trees’ branches spread across many of the roads dotted with horse farms.

While working on my degree, I became a very infrequent visitor to area farms.  It was often necessary to have tunnel vision during a semester, to manage a heavy school workload and my job as well.  After the semester was ample time to once again do more fun activities.  So I had not fully realized how much I needed to take a little time to get back in touch with going out and doing those things I enjoy.  That sounds like an obvious statement, but when I started this degree nearly five years ago, I had a completely different mentality than I do now.  This was my third attempt to get a college degree and move up a career ladder, and I kept that laser-like focus through probably well over half of my time at the University of Kentucky.  When I hit burn-out over a year ago, I became less inclined to drop everything in life to work on school.  I still had to spend the majority of my time on it, of course, but I needed a little more life/work balance.

Fast-forward to now.  Though I’d tried to align life and work a little better, I still didn’t feel like I could afford the “luxury” of taking the time required for long drives through the countryside.  I knew I really didn’t have time on a peaceful Sunday at the end of the first week of March, but I took it anyway.  I had wanted to visit Our Mims for so long, and when Jeanne Mirabito, who owns and runs the farm, told me that it would have been Our Mims’ birthday the day of my visit and was another current resident’s birthday, that almost seemed too fortuitous not to go.  The day I finally cleared my calendar to go to her farm was the day the horse this was all in honor of had been foaled? I had to go.

That was an excellent decision. I was doing it for a photo assignment, or otherwise even then I may never have taken the time to go.  But just as with my visit to Old Friends recently, it did me a tremendous amount of good.  The drive alone was soothing: miles of driving past black fences, coralling pastures blanketed with pure white snow.  The contrast in colors and the wide open spaces had a calming effect.  And it was wonderful to get back to basics almost, to doing the things I loved doing when I first moved here.

It got slightly better day by day, but I still had moments of struggling with the sudden loss of my cat.  I was coming to the point where having known him and his sweet nature and cuddly ways was outweighing having lost him.  I had realized a few days ago the futility of wishing he was back to have more of that love.  I’ve spent so much of the past five years, the time I’ve taken for this degree, to push forward, to make progress.  There was no looking back.  To want to go back now, even to have more days with him, was as counterproductive as it was impossible.  That’s not to say I hardened my heart to having to lose him.  I can’t do that.

Realizing you’ve been the recipient of deep, unconditional love makes it harder to have the absence of that love in the here and now.  But oh, how lucky I was to have him give me that gift, and help me be the kind of person who could return that to him in full measure. Animals can teach us so much about love, life, and even death.  I still remember how bold and adventurous Choobie was right before we went to the vet on that final ride.  He was a cat on a mission, to live fully in spite of illness. I knew he still was not feeling very well, but he didn’t let that stop him from exploring his world.  And when he really wasn’t feeling well enough to do much at all, there was a stillness, a calm about him.  I know he was suffering at those times, most likely, and I couldn’t sit there and watch that go on.  But in those moments, he also showed me how to die with grace.  He didn’t, of course, understand he was dying.  But he knew he wasn’t himself, and he did what he had to do to handle that.  He rested for long periods, he ate when he could, and when he needed comfort or felt well enough to snuggle as he usually would, he sought out my company.

I would sit near him in those last days and just read, or sing along to music I put on to try to diminish the stress I was feeling at knowing our time together was growing short, and that he may be suffering more than he’d let on.  Some websites suggested just letting a dying cat know you were near was enough, especially if they didn’t feel like socialization or being touched.  And he did respond to me being near, in his usual endearing ways of rolling on to his back or stretching his legs out in contentment.  His last days were as peaceful and full of love as I could make them, and I have no doubt he knew until the end he was loved.

But I digress.  Going to Our Mims was one more opportunity to find solace in the company of horses. I was going that day primarily to gather photos more than for my own personal agenda, yet it turned out being there did me a world of good.

My visit began in the cemetery, as Jeanne narrated a little about the lives of the horses buried there.  However, just beyond the cemetery, the living residents inhabited one huge pasture and they were the focus at that time.  I hadn’t realized the visit would involve walking right among them, and getting so much one-on-one time.  That was wonderful.

We saw Elmhurst, a Breeders’ Cup Sprint winner, and he is stunning.  Jeanne hopes to take him to Breakfast with the Works at Keeneland’s fall meet, to honor his own Breeders’ Cup triumph at the same time Keeneland hosts the championship series for the first time.

We also saw birthday girl Trail Guide, and wandered around to see a few others.  All the horses were curious – a few followed behind us for a time, and all of them were so well-mannered; that day, at least.  Jeanne showed me little pens in the huge pasture and explained they were for people in case the horses got too fractious.  I loved her approach already.  The horses here got to be horses more than anything else, and it was the people who would get corralled if the horses needed space.

All the horses I saw looked at ease (except one who was dealing with cancer, but even she leaned in for head rubs, mostly from Jeanne, but I couldn’t resist the chance to love on her as well), and they all seemed quite content.  I’ve heard it said horses like to have jobs – and apparently some of the Our Mims residents are ridden or otherwise part of therapy.  But who knows? After the regimented life at racetracks, they may very well have enjoyed the time to just stand in a field and follow their own agenda.

Jeanne told me about one horse that had been part of a group of starved horses, and showed me the photo of her on her phone, pretty much just skin and bones.  Then she pointed her out now, her bay coat gleaming in the sun and her healthy weight a stark lovely contrast to the way she’d been before.

It was being reaffirmed to me that even while the animals people rescue have found a world of good, they quite often reflect that same good back to the people around them.

I hadn’t realized Our Mims also hosts therapy programs involving the horses, for disadvantaged teens and other people, as well.  But it made a tremendous amount of sense. I hadn’t even been on the property twenty minutes and I could feel a sense of well-being coming over me.  I couldn’t deny I had been in need of some type of therapy to cope with loss, and I continued to choose the animal sort.  How incredibly fitting then, that these horses are part of a formal therapy program as well.  The more time that the visit took, and the further we got into the property, the more I gained from being here.  There is just a sense I felt there of all the well-being and contentment the horses reflected.

I thought back to what Michael Blowen said about all he could tell from a horse based on who handled them before he arrived at the farm.  They pick up on what the people around them feel, no doubt.  And here, I could just feel the peace ripple across the farm, through the horses, and to me.  It was a quiet sensation but almost palpable.  We paused to greet a chestnut pony whose head almost reached past my torso.  He was still winter shaggy, and he felt so soft that I buried my hands in the thick hair along his neck and just happened to inhale that sweet horsy scent I’d not thought of in so long, but that I loved.  I could have stayed there just petting him all day, a tactile therapy.

From there, we moved on to the barn, and Jeanne explained how everyone who comes to the farm and participates in its programs leaves something painted on the barn.  It can be a quote, a painting, something that reflects what the time here meant to them… It seemed fitting this was the first quote I saw, on the outside of the barn.

I hadn’t ridden during my time here, but I still felt as if I’d found a respite like this quote indicated was found on horseback.

All the stalls are painted with something that represents the horse who resides there, and when a horse passes, their panels are moved higher up the barn walls.  The result was a colorful ode to all the residents, past and present, and one more way Our Mims is for the horse first and then the people. I loved the concept of making it so horse-centric, and in the process could see how much even the people who come here gain as well.

Jeanne also described with amusement how Elmhurst is a master at shredding blankets, losing halters, and breaking or opening stall door latches.  She said they may just start to keep a tally of how many times he does those things or how long it takes him.  One thing she said then that resonated with me a lot was that when the horses are here they are in retirement.  If they really want to get out they can.  They are just free to be themselves.

A cat was sunbathing in a patch of dirt underneath a stall panel of multicolored, painted squares, and it was then Jeanne began to tell me of a horse named Hana Bride.  She said she is used to getting calls about famous residents she has or had there.  Hana Bride, however, was not famous for any racing exploits, but she still got a call one day from a woman who said she can’t believe Our Mims has Hana Bride.  Jeanne noted that is a failing of the racing world, to not explore what value a horse may have beyond the racetrack.  It seems to me there are some organizations out there that try to do that, but as far as most horse owners, I suppose if they are heavily invested in racing, they may not be that interested in taking the time to find out where else a horse may excel.  I’m not saying they don’t provide for or try to rehome these horses, but a great incentive to find their value in other areas is probably not as important if racing is where their interest lies, and if that’s the sports endeavor they want to fund.

It turns out, Hana Bride had progeny that made her a legend in the dressage world.  If I remember correctly, Jeanne said she had been very close to being slaughtered, and yet she had offspring doing so well in the dressage ring that Hana Bride could have easily been worth $200,000.

As we left the barn, and went back towards the cemetery to conclude my visit, Jeanne began talking about how she found Our Mims and why the mare meant so much to her.  She said she’d seen her race on TV when she was growing up, and the horse just captivated her.  More than that, she said she was going to own her someday.  And wouldn’t you know, fate did end up bringing Jeanne and Our Mims together.  She heard about her being turned out to fend for herself, and was able to care for her in the last years of her life.  I could tell as she spoke how that time she had with Old Mims still lingered with her.  It is just like I thought when my cat died.  He is not with me physically, but the love never dies.  Deep bonds always stay with us.

As Jeanne told me about finding Old Mims, taking care of her, and then how she was buried at Calumet when her time came, to be among generations of her ancestors and on a land that had seen so many great horses born, raised, and live, had me reflecting on the continuity of Thoroughbred breeding.  All the generations and planning that go into each horse’s life is an interesting path through history, from three foundation stallions to the present day, from when horses may be out of mares that only had the names of their owners, yet it produced an alchemy that is the modern breed, that roared through the years and centuries to give us Secretariat… Seattle Slew…. Cigar… Barbaro…. And to give Jeanne Mirabito Our Mims, the horse she dreamed of as a girl.

A reverence came over me when I heard her talk about Our Mims.  It was more than what she said.  The story was straightforward, but between the lines was all that she had meant to Jeanne and how blessed she felt to get to bring the mare into into her life. She told me Our Mims had died in late 2003, and I thought that I wish I could have met her.  I had been living in Lexington for most of that year, and it would have been possible but she wasn’t on my radar at the time, even as I had gone to every horse farm in the area that allowed visitors.  In a sense, it was enough to hear her story, to know what she had meant.  She was even why we were standing here, on what would have been the champion mare’s forty-first birthday, on this farm that bore her name.

That is why I know, besides telling me about finding her and caring for her, that Our Mims lingers with Jeanne to this day.  I felt she would have understood my grief for Choobie, too, had I told her. Animals give so much unconditionally.  Losing that unconditional love cuts deep, but having had it at all can move us forward to help other animals know that same love.  It was moving that she had launched Our Mims in the beloved mare’s name to help other horses in similar situations.  I had a similar thought to wanting to send that same positive energy out into the world in Choobie’s memory too, and that came to me as Jeanne said she had vowed she wouldn’t let Our Mims’ name be forgotten.  I don’t expect Choobie (or Alix, to give him his more “dignified” given name, though it’s not the one he responded to or was called often), to have his name known widely, but I still want to make a difference to keep the effect of the difference he made in my life rippling through this world, too.

And because Our Mims’ horses helped me start to feel more whole again, and because Old Friends’ horses also helped me find solace, they will be two of the first recipients of donations in Choobie’s name.  I like too that they are organizations that rescue animals, since Choobie also came from a rescue situation when I got him as a kitten at the animal shelter.  We think we are rescuing these animals, and we are, but then they go on to do so much for us, on the most fundamental level.

As we came back to the cemetery again, and the story of Our Mims came to a conclusion, Jeanne started speaking of what happens to the horses here when their time comes.  They are here for the rest of their days when they arrive, and when they go, they are buried whole with their heads facing east, towards new beginnings.  And in the end, that’s all death is… just transition from one form to another.  We do get sad about it, but it is a new beginning.  Sometimes it is a needed new beginning, if the animal is suffering, and the final, most loving thing we can do for them.

Jeanne also said that each horse is buried with a bucket of favorite treats under their chins.  It was such a loving, reverent burial.  I still get a little emotional now and then, and it did bring tears to my eyes.  Doing what we can for the animals in our care, with love, compassion, and ultimately a dignified death and a respectful and meaningful burial is what they all are worthy of, for all the ways they enrich our lives.  The rituals are for us almost more than them, but there is still a lot to be said for a lovingly planned final ceremony to honor their lives.

So I left Our Mims feeling much better for having gone through its gates and having met Jeanne and some of the horses in her care.  I imagine they feel the same way when they arrive and realize what a good place they have to live now.

A few more scenes from Our Mims and the painted areas of the barn

March was still a brand-new month as I drove to the fenced-in parking lot of Old Friends.  The forecast called for rain but also warmer temperatures, a welcome change from a record-setting snow fall and bone-chilling cold of the past two weeks.  The rain was right on cue, but the warmer temperatures were lagging behind.  No matter.  I was at one of my favorite horse farms, and ready to begin my visit.  I was the only visitor understandably, but what I did not expect was for Michael Blowen himself to conduct the tour around the farm and the visits to its residents.  I felt awed, really, just realizing that he would guide this tour.  I just have such an immense respect for the vision he had to launch Old Friends, and for all he does for its retirees and for continuing to reach out to bring more horses to the farm, to live out their days in a cornucopia of carrots, visits, and volunteer attention, and most of all the care and compassion of Michael Blowen.

We began with a visit to Sarava, followed by Silver Charm and Game on Dude.  I had specifically wanted to see Silver Charm the most.  It would be my first visit with him where I could actually have the chance to be hands-on with him for the first time. I’d seen him at Three Chimneys prior to exportation to Japan, and been at Old Friends the day in December he was publicly welcomed to his new home, but I wanted to touch him and feed him carrots and really get to know him in the way you can only by being able to get up close and personal.

Besides how amazing their roster of horses is, and all their accomplishments, it is this chance to really get acquainted with them that I love the most.  A lot of breeding farms in the area tend to let you get up close to a retired race horse you followed and appreciated, even if just for a brief photo with the horse, but very few let you linger over fence lines, and have time to develop an acquaintance.  It is wonderful to get to love on the horses at Old Friends, if they are the type who appreciate that, and to feed them carrots.  They seem to love those carrots more than words can say.

After a brief stop to feed Sarava carrots, we went up to Game On Dude’s paddock.  Blowen said he’s one of the sweetest horses they’ve had at Old Friends.  I hadn’t really gotten to know Game on Dude that well yet, either.  As with Silver Charm, I had only seen him twice prior to this day’s visit.

 – Game On Dude; it was a bit challenging to get a clear photo of him in the rain but I think this captured his kind eye.

He really is a gentle soul, and seemed so well-mannered.  Just like that, a horse can endear themselves to you. I had been aware of Game On Dude’s race career and accomplishments, as I would have been with any headline-grabbing runner, but he’d not really been one I followed while he ran.

Just proves my point about what the difference getting the chance to know them, or at least get acquainted, makes. I mostly hung back and let Michael feed them carrots on this visit, but just seeing Game On Dude’s gentle nature boosted my soul.

I had been a bit captivated by Game On Dude, so much that I didn’t realize Silver Charm was in the paddock adjoining his.  Silver Charm was in a bit of a different mold from Game On Dude. Blowen had told me before we went up to him that he didn’t really like having his head touched.  I remembered that from one of my classes about horses, how to stallions (or I suppose, even colts), that is a sign of dominance and one they are not likely to tolerate or allow.  It was definitely that way with Silver Charm.  I wanted to pat him, to bridge the gap of all the years he’d been in Japan and the time that I’d not been able to get to touch him, but he just didn’t go for it, moving his head away. So I respected that and just watched him.  He has so much presence, and there was a bit of awe at being face-to-face with this horse I did follow throughout all of his racing days, from the Derby to the Preakness to the Dubai World Cup.

In fact, Blowen told me a story about Silver Charm in the Dubai World Cup I’d never heard before.  He said shortly before the race, Silver Charm was just laying down in his stall, and Baffert told his staff that they should be ready to get out of there quickly after the race, because Silver Charm just gave every impression he didn’t have a good race in him that day.  Of course, that turned out to be far from the truth.  Baffert and all of Silver Charm’s connections had every reason to linger after the race, in the glow of Dubai World Cup glory.  Silver Charm was tough, that’s for sure. I was so impressed that he not only won the Derby and Preakness at 3 (and nearly got the Belmont too), but that he also traveled all the way to Dubai and took their biggest race against competitors from around the world at the age of 4.

Blowen also said how smart Silver Charm is, and that he doesn’t miss anything, from being at his gate waiting when it’s time to be taken in to when the mares at a farm across the street are turned out.  To see him back in Kentucky and looking so well is wonderful, and I look forward to more visits especially as the weather gets better.  Perhaps he will even come to accept pats on the neck with time. Either way, I was just glad of the chance to visit.

We stopped to see a few other residents, and while I enjoyed the time to see them all, the next horse we saw that was especially notable to me was Yankee Fortune.  He was noteworthy for the same reason Game On Dude was, for being another kind soul.

I don’t remember much of what was said about his story, just that he was a recent arrival to the farm.  What captivated me was that he did let me pet him and welcomed it, and in his eyes I saw almost a benevolence.  It did me a lot of good to have that one-on-one moment of communion with this light grey horse.  I needed that; I really did.  In fact, given his parallels to Game On Dude, when he gets out of quarantine in a few days, Blowen will try pairing him up with Game On Dude as a pasture buddy.

My visit to Old Friends came just a few days after Blowen and all the farm volunteers had bid goodbye to Creator, the fiery majestic stallion who had ruled over his pasture for so long in retirement there.  Blowen said Creator and Ogygian were similar in that  you could never tell them to do anything, but had to ask and they’d be perfectly willing to comply.  I had always loved seeing Creator on my visits. I knew I couldn’t get too close to him, but he had so much presence that every time I came to Old Friends I wanted to see him.  I can only imagine, after all the years he resided at the farm and seeing how his personality was so captivating, what a void that had to leave.

We went near his pasture, empty and with the gate open, with a wreath of flowers affixed to it in tribute.  There is something poignant about the space where a horse used to reside, or I suppose any animal that we loved, suddenly being empty of their presence. I know full well Blowen and the staff have a fond spot for all the horses that come through the gates at Old Friends, and also realize losses will come frequently, since most of their residents are in their senior years.

But I imagine the loss of a horse with such a strong and charismatic presence as Creator, one that almost loomed larger than life, would be even harder to suddenly find missing.

I could fully empathize, because one reason I had come to Old Friends that day was as a boost for my own aching heart. Horses just have this way of doing my soul a lot of good. If I’m already having a good day, they lift me up that much more. If I’m a little burned out on something, and have a chance to be around them, I find myself recharged with just a little time in their presence.

I knew how they must feel with Creator being gone, even if my acquaintances with him had been more fleeting than theirs.  I knew because it had only been a week since I had to say goodbye to the cat I’d had since he was a kitten, to the nearly ten years we shared together.  And my cat had a larger-than-life personality too.  He was bold, clever, ruled the house (and me, a little), and he and I had a deep bond that words can’t fully describe, and he was the sweetest cat I’ve ever known.  He was diagnosed with advanced liver cancer, a disease he hid that he was suffering from (in the way cats will) until he just couldn’t hide the suffering anymore.  The diagnosis and its terminal status left me reeling.  The fact that it was already terminal and that he was suffering and not completely himself meant less than a week later, I spent one good last day with him full of love and things he loved to do, before he was eased of his suffering in my arms.  This is my racing blog, and I attempt to maintain a professional tone, so I haven’t yet spoken of my cats on here or anything as personal as this.  But this is also snapshots in time of my life, and losing him and not having a lot of time left from the time of his diagnosis was a blow.  It stressed me more to know he was suffering than to say goodbye did, especially knowing I couldn’t really help him, beyond buying him a temporary reprieve from the inevitable with medication.

I mention all this because it fully reaches me how it must have felt to lose Creator. From what I saw myself and from written tributes, he had that same larger-than-life personality as my cat had.  And they do have other horses, of course, but none of them fill that void because none of them are quite who Creator was.  If they feel like me, when such a life force leaves, there’s a big hole that can only be filled gradually and by time. It does really make you even more aware how much vitality that life brought to the world and your life.

I know Creator had a name that was well-known in the racing world, and that he became known to even more people through Old Friends.  My cat was known to only a smattering of people, but in both these cases, their lives were so meaningful because of the way they touched others’ lives while they they were here.  And that is why my heart goes out even more to Blowen and everyone who loved Creator, and why I appreciate even more the work they do.  Creator needed a home, and so many of these horses would fall through the cracks if not for Old Friends.  But then, instead of that happening, they fall into almost a sort of equine nirvana, with full retirement and surrounded by love, respect and compassion, and with frequent visitors and carrot treats.

My cat too came from a rescue situation, from homelessness in the animal shelter to being sheltered and surrounded by love every day of his life after that, until the time it ended.  Because then, too, sometimes the most loving thing we can do for the animals that we’re entrusted to care for, is give them a peaceful dignified relief from their suffering.  It was what Creator needed that day, as much as it must have hurt to let him go, and it was what my cat needed nearly a week before Creator’s passing.  It hurts that he’s no longer here with me, but it also brings peace that he is not suffering.  I do miss his presence, but I know that will lessen with time.  Like with all the horses Old Friends has seen come and go, what matters is that they were given loving homes and good lives, and fully knew they were loved and cared for.  That is why Old Friends means so much to me personally, as much of an animal lover as I am, and it is why I support them financially whenever I can.  Their mission is just so close to my heart, and every visit there and hearing the stories of the horses that needed rescued, and seeing with my own eyes what a great place they’re in always lifts me up.

And too, I can see why having all these horses practically in his back yard, and being able to see them every day, keeps Blowen going.  It is his dream manifested in every kind eye, every horse that has a guaranteed retirement, every eager mouth reaching for carrots, and every visitor that leaves inspired by time in these horses’ presences.

He told me he plans to expand his farm to the stop sign in one direction, which was nearly as far as the eye can see, and why not? The breadth of Blowen’s dream is deep and selfless.  Let it spread to eternity,  to the lives of all these horses and those yet to retire and to the people who visit too.  Let them walk away as inspired by his dreams, the horses he introduced and the flow of energy they emit.

We walked into a barn where they were building a hospital stall, to continue to provide top-notch care on site for the equine residents, and during the course of my visit it became evident how much Blowen’s compassion and kindness for these horses extends to people too.  He gave me a glass that had been especially made to honor Silver Charm, and even gave me an Old Friends magazine before I left.  I was so grateful for those gifts, on top of getting the personal tour and hearing all his stories about the retirees we visited.  Like he said, there are many good stories in racing too, but they don’t get told or heard as often as the more negative ones, because a lot of people in racing are too humble to tell them.  That too is why this farm is a wonderful asset to the racing world, even as these horses’ racing days are over.  Blowen does tell those good stories to anyone who visits.  It was great to hear of all the people, whether they are the horses’ former connections or just people who loved the horses for one reason or another, that continuously donate to their care or have set up funds for some of the horses, and the former connections that will come and visit the horses they either trained, owned, or rode.

It’s been said from time to time, when explaining why a farm like this is necessary, that racehorses don’t have retirement plans, but for those fortunate few, that is no longer true once they find their way to Old Friends.  At that point, the deep roots of Blowen’s dream, the “to-the-stop-sign/as far as the eye can see” expansion, ripples through their lives, with all the loving care and carrots they could want.

I walked away from my visit, once more renewed in spirit.  Old Friends is a treasure, not just for its horses, but for the people who walk through the gates too.  If you’ve ever had the love of horses take root until it’s like another vital part of you,  you know exactly why.

Old Friends. What do those words conjure in the imagination? Love, familiarity, gratitude for the ones they apply to? All of those and much more can be fitting descriptions.

Of course, Old Friends – as many who work in or follow the racing industry know, is the farm founded by Michael Blowen to give a home to horses who gave their all on the track and needed a place to retire when their racing and/or breeding days ended. It is often mentioned, of course, how unique it is in that it is the only retirement farm that accepts stallions.

It is why the regal yet fiery Creator, once considered a candidate for stallion fighting in Korea, rules over his pasture at the farm. It is why Gulch was turned over to the farm’s team when his breeding days were over – not because he didn’t have a good home, but because Old Friends has shown time and again how tireless and impeccable their care and management of their retirees are, and how dedicated their effort is to bring horses home and keep them accessible to fans.

I love this farm. There is much to be said for visiting the many well-known farms throughout this region and seeing their roster of stallions, comprising a Who’s Who of the racing world, but as Old Friends’ roster grows, it is quickly becoming one of the top farms to visit.

Just a recitation of the names of some of its retirees, past and present, is awe-inspiring.

Hidden Lake.

Game On Dude.

Amazombie.

Eldaafer.

Rapid Redux.

Ogygian.

Awad.

Precisionist.

Marquetry.

Taylor’s Special.

And we can’t forget the miniature horse Little Silver Charm. He is such an endearing mascot, and was a slaughterhouse rescue himself. Besides the chance to get to see these horses up close and personal and feed them carrots and really walk away feeling like you got to know them, it is the chance to hear their stories and how they came to be at Old Friends that really lingers. There are so many paths our lives can take, and when you hear the hard-knock lives that some of these horses had that got all turned around when Old Friends and their supporters got involved, it makes any horse lover grateful this farm exists.

Of course, the Thoroughbred industry is driven by economics and is a business. And I realize it is difficult to personally have an attachment to every horse a farm or a professional may come in contact with, through some facet of his or her job. But this sport wouldn’t be what it is without the horse. I know we can’t love every Thoroughbred we see. That is just logistically impossible. But there runs through me a respect for them, when I have a moment to look in their eyes. It doesn’t matter if it’s a low-level claimer or a top stakes prospect. I see something in their eyes that stirs my soul. This is not an anti-racing speech, by any means. I am simply saying that while economics have to matter and Kentucky is a proving ground for sires and broodmares, who will be sold on if they are not commercial enough, because there is often a fresh influx of retired runners to take their spot, it is still those moments when I can step back from that and just have a connection with the horse as a horse instead of simply a commodity that are ones to relish. I think most of us in this industry have that love of the horse at the root of what we do, of why we’re in it. I think an animal as noble and majestic as the Thoroughbred can be has that ability to completely captivate people time and again.

Over the years of visiting Old Friends, it has been wonderful to see Michael Blowen’s efforts to build this farm into a showcase for the Thoroughbred, to give people that chance to see them up close and feel a connection, has been recognized and embraced by the industry. It has shifted from largely being rescue horses to cases like Gulch’s, Game on Dude’s, and Amazombie’s, where these are horses that could have retired anywhere, but they were turned over to the care of Old Friends and to the chance to be seen by fans as much as possible. It’s a great life, with all the visits, attention, and carrots.

So when Silver Charm finally arrived at Old Friends on December 1^st, 2014, after his long journey from Japan, it struck me how truly fitting it is that the farm is named Old Friends. I had missed him more than I realized during his years outside the U.S. And when I saw the photos of him arriving at the farm, it was wonderful to see how magnificent he looks and to think of the stellar care he has clearly received and of the collaborative effort to bring him home and to his U.S. fans once more. He really is an old friend, dear and cherished, and I look forward to the day he is out of quarantine and I can feed him carrots and give him a measure of the affection it was more difficult to show him at Three Chimneys, as they are a working farm first and foremost, though quite generous about letting fans visit.

I had been waiting so long to see Silver Charm come back to the U.S. and hoped when that day came, he’d be somewhere I could visit him once more. He was phenomenal during his racing career, and that was more than enough to endear him to me. I saw him at Three Chimneys a couple of times before he went to Japan, and that just wasn’t enough for a horse I like this much.

Three Chimneys kept up with him, sharing updates from Japan every now and then, and when social media use became more widespread in his last few years there, it was even easier to see how he was doing. But even then, I had not fully realized how much I’d like to see him back here. You just never know how long a stud career may last, or if a horse will even live past his days as an active breeding stallion.

That is why it was so wonderful to hear of him coming home, to be finished breeding at what seemed to be a relatively young age of 20. I realize that is getting on towards the twilight of a horse’s life, but when some horses breed up to age 25 or even longer, it was great to hear he was already being pensioned and on his way back. I can’t help but feel, seeing what excellent shape he is in and that it was always planned for him to return to the U.S., that the JBBA and the Lewises possibly pensioned him a bit earlier than may have been absolutely necessary. Everything I’ve heard about the collaborative effort to bring him back and how much Michael Blowen wanted him at Old Friends really seems to indicate that. The long journey should be easier on him than if they waited five or so years, and he should still have a while to bask in his fans’ adoration. It was heartwarming to see the video of him walking off the van, greeted by Three Chimneys’ stallion manager Sandy Hatfield, and to know that all had been done to do what is right by the horse. Too many stories at Old Friends, while they ended up better when the horses arrived at the farm, are not as good as Silver Charm’s. So to hear one like his really is touching.

It was a misty afternoon with intermittent drizzling rain when several dozen people, fans and media alike, arrived at the open house to showcase the newest resident. He was paraded in a small circular paddock just steps away from the quarantine barn by Sandy Hatfield, and it was so good to see him with my own eyes again. Sandy herself echoed that sentiment when someone in the crowd asked her about being with Silver Charm again, and she said, “Ten years had been too long.”

He was worth the wait, though. Those few brief visits with him back at Three Chimneys had not been enough to give me a real sense of who he is. This time watching him at Old Friends did.

I could have watched him all day. His presence is incredibly captivating, and there is such an air of nobility about him. He was so bright-eyed, and taking everything in.

It did seem he was trying to figure out where he was, after all the stops along his journey, and perhaps even figure out why the horses in the pasture across from him were watching him so intently. They were geldings, but his neigh to them was commanding, one of a stallion either offering a challenge or already claiming territory.

All too soon, he went through the paddock gates and was led into the quarantine barn, to stay there for 3 weeks. I longed to touch him as he went by, but that was not allowed – yet. I look forward to the day when I can get even better acquainted and get to feed him carrots too. How lucky, not only for him, but for all of us that care about him get to be near him once more.

I later read that Sandy Hatfield herself said she would be at Old Friends more now to volunteer and be near one of her favorite horses. I had that thought myself, even before seeing him up close again at last, that I would want to come often to visit Silver Charm. He really is an old, dear friend, and I look forward to getting to call him an even dearer friend in the months to come.

Note: this post was written shortly after Cigar’s memorial service was held on November 14, 2014.  It is a bit long, but it is one last homage to the horse that he was and what he meant to me and so many people. The photo above is of the sun shining through the clouds that day.

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The night before Cigar’s memorial service, I searched for the way from my house to the Horse Park, where he lays at rest.  It was not that I didn’t know the way well, but just that I wanted to be certain of the amount of time it would take to get there.

I had known, from the time I brought a bouquet of white roses to pay my respects in the rapidly gathering darkness the night after he died, that I would need to return when his memorial service was held.  That night, even knowing he was an older horse and his amount of time left on earth probably was dwindling, had been about trying to come to terms with his passing.

The memorial service, while it would probably have had moments when I’d miss him all over again, would be to celebrate the life he lived and what he meant to me, and it was a strong pull to be there.  Unfortunately, the service came at the end of a trying week that made a jumble of my plans and found me scrambling to get a car repair finished in time to be there. That is why I conducted the search for directions to be sure of the quickest way to the Horse Park. With a little pang, I noted that they directed me to take Cigar Lane, of course named for the legend, but not a road I normally see brought up in directions, as it skirts around the perimeter of the Park, instead of leading directly to the main parking lot.  It was definitely a day when everything was drawing me to him one more time.

I’m sure I’ll attend the celebration and remembrance of the twentieth anniversary of his Breeders’ Cup Classic win next year, and visit the Park at other times, but without him there it just won’t be the same. It may take a while before standing at his grave doesn’t hit me hard, so I’m not thinking I’ll be inclined to do be at the Park that often for a bit.  Just as the directions had steered me to Cigar Lane, any time I went to the Park, I knew my destination would be a straight course to Cigar.  I never got tired of watching him and being in his presence, even if he was just grazing.  How could I? In a sense it felt like a blessing just to be in his presence, to get to be that close to one of the all-time greats.

It was a sunny but bitterly cold day the day of the service, and I walked into a florist’s shop to pick up a single rose for Cigar.  When I first paid my respects, I had thought of getting flowers in the colors of the silks he carried – red, white, and blue – and I considered it again, but once more settled on a white rose. I saw a canister of peppermints on their counter and while I waited for the florist to wrap the rose with baby’s breath, I impulsively grabbed four of them.  I could put them in among the baby’s breath perhaps, or around his grave.

I actually had a whole bag of peppermints at home that had been meant for his birthday this year. When I wasn’t able to make the celebration, they just stayed in my car until I could mail them and then when even the time to mail them seemed to slip past, I moved them to the couch and there they’d sat while the seasons changed from late spring to summer to early fall, and Cigar left us.  Part of me didn’t want to tear the bag open to put a handful of the candy on his grave.  Perhaps I’d give them to a living horse at some point, as they had been meant for. Perhaps I’d just keep them as the intended gift.

At the florist’s shop, I changed my mind about scattering the peppermints among his grave and asked the florist instead to attach them to the flowers.  Realizing that request might sound a bit odd, I told her the rose was for a memorial service for a horse, and that horses like peppermints. I don’t know where they came from, but suddenly I was in tears.   I’d been utterly fine, but perhaps I started thinking of the years of birthdays come to an end, as his birthplace Country Life Farm had said the day after he died.  Sometimes a lot of things are just thrown at us at once and the tears were probably a reflection of that, as well as just about Cigar himself.

I’m not sure where she had been although I guess it must have been in one of the little stations where other florists were making creations for the shop displays or for orders, but suddenly a lady came up to my side and starting asking me if it was my horse, and I said, “No, he was a famous horse and they were having his memorial service today.” She asked if he was Cigar, and I said yes, and then told me her own horse had just died so she understood. It all spilled out of me then how I just grew up watching him and he was the horse of my lifetime.  She asked if he had been at Rood and Riddle when he died and said her horse had as well.

Those moments of connection because of the horse have been ones that have brought many amazing people into my life, whether it was briefly or had long-term effects positively rippling throughout my life.  This was one of those brief connections where neither of us knew each other’s names, but it didn’t matter.  We loved the horse and we understood each other’s grief, just as many times I had understood other people’s joys and shared them as well at some of the greatest triumphs in horse racing.

I remember after Barbaro died, his owner Gretchen Jackson said, “Grief is the price we pay for love.”  It’s true, and inevitable, and when these animals touch my soul, I too grieve for them deeply.  But though the grief hurts, I would never ever trade it for the chance to follow these horses’ paths and have them touch me the way they did.  Maybe the price seems steep, but there was never a question of them not meaning something to me.

I only managed to arrive at the memorial service when it was all over and throngs of people gathered in little groups, in the pavilion where I had seen Cigar so many times, now displaying two photos and a wreath of red, white, and blue flowers with his name on it.

 

 

I’m not sure to describe how I felt seeing his stall empty.  It wasn’t sadness exactly, but perhaps a little wistfulness that he and I would never meet face-to-face there again.

A TV nearby and one mounted on the wall opposite showed videos and photos of him here at the Park.  His presence still lingered, strongly.  It may be that is why I wasn’t too sad at his stall.  As long as he had lived there, it possibly could have seemed like he was just out roaming his pasture, and while the stall was partially stripped and straw was laid out on the remainder of the floor, that too almost seemed like it was just awaiting his return through the open door at the back.

I walked along the path outside the barn, parallel to his pasture.  I had to leave the rose for him.

I hadn’t seen his grave since it was freshly dug and my flowers were the first ones there, though I propped them against the banner on his paddock fence rather than at the site.  It seemed a place I didn’t want to approach while it was still so fresh, maybe to let him lie in peace.

But now it was landscaped, with a horseshoe of hedges around it.  Inside the horseshoe were lots of floral arrangements – many in the red, white, and blue colors I had contemplated getting – and even a pumpkin that someone wrote “I love you Cigar” on.

What made me cry there was the headstone, my first time seeing it.

 Cigar

April 18, 1990 – October 7, 2014

Unconquerable, invincible, unbeatable

 

That is what he was to me, and that is how I will remember him.

When he looked at you, you felt all his nobility and you knew the few defeats he’d had since his race streak began were of little consequence.  That spirit he had was never diminished and it never failed to awe.  He was magnificent.

And yes, those words did make me tear up, because they were the perfect homage to who he had been and what he had meant.

It’s funny, sometimes, to think of how our lives will turn out and the path they will take.  Cigar was not born on an elite Kentucky farm.  To be sure, he was born on a farm with a history of excellence in a state with Thoroughbred history, but it is not the first place that comes to mind when you think of the Thoroughbred industry.  He traced to some of racing’s greats in Northern Dancer and Seattle Slew, but his sire may not have even been a blip in the Thoroughbred bloodlines except for Cigar.  But Cigar was all it took, all it would have taken, to put any sire on the map – for a time, at least.

Palace Music’s name will linger in people’s memories because of the path his son Cigar blazed through racing in his unconquerable year, his perfect 10-for-10 tour de force in 1995.  So even with Northern Dancer and Seattle Slew in his bloodlines, and after he ran into a fence as a weanling, and didn’t take to the turf at all, it may not have seemed like he was destined for greatness in pedigree or racing form.

The rest is history.  He won his first start on dirt.  He won the NYRA Mile, which was renamed the Cigar Mile.  He wrote his name into the record books.  He was larger than life.  And his retirement to the Horse Park was marked with fanfare and a banner hung over the Hall of Champions barn that welcomed him home.

I was not there for that, but I was just as overjoyed at his arrival at the Park as I would have been if I’d been there to see him arrive for myself.

I would not visit Kentucky until three years after that, and wouldn’t live there until four years after he took up residence in Lexington.  But when I did visit, my path at the Horse Park was unwavering and led straight to his stall.  He was near the door and it was my first chance to look into his eyes.

While I missed the memorial service, I heard his long-time caretaker Wes Lanter had spoken of how people from all across the country and the world would have tears in their eyes the first time they saw him.  It was a common bond Cigar created, one that I had not realized had been shared by many.  I hadn’t expected to get teary-eyed the first time I saw him, but it was understandable.  To hear I was not the only one was a testament to Cigar. He moved people that way.  It’s why I say he will always be part of who I am.  Being in the presence of true greatness stays with you.  I guess it influenced everyone that way the first time they saw him, and if they’re like me, every additional time too.

I know, as I said about standing near his stall, a horse like that doesn’t really leave, even if he stays only through people’s memories.  Yet that path he took during his life, and that one perfect day to cap one perfect year, when one race announcer intoned the phrase that came to be as much a part of Cigar as his white eye and the pin-fired marks on his hocks… well, to see that phrase on his grave, it just moved me all over again.  I suppose it was a mix of being grateful we had known him at all, and that he had found his path to burn in our memories indeed, and also a tinge of sadness that the years will pass and there will be people who know him only for those words.  That while those words mean everything if you watched that race, they are now an echo of a glorious past, and a body that lies still.  I don’t know.  It’s hard to say what ran through my mind at that grave site, at seeing those words on the stone, at knowing they were the perfect eulogy.  And yes, for sure, it is hard to stand outside his pasture and know he lies beneath the earth now instead of presiding over that domain.

 

The grief will diminish and all he was will linger.  I signed the new banner that hung on his pasture fence, “I love you Cigar.”  That was all I needed to say at this time and all that the cold settling into my fingers even made possible.

As I turned away from the grave and to escape the bitter cold, I noticed a large banner with his photo on it hung above the barn just as it had on that day when he arrived here in 1999.  And I knew from that time he arrived to that day last month when he breathed his last, the Horse Park had given him exemplary care as they do all their horses.  They had ushered him into his new life greeting his fans, and they had ushered him out of this world with all the care and dignity he deserved, when there was nothing more that could be done for him.

 

I lingered in the barn once more, seeing the banner I had signed hanging above his stall, and the framed photo of the people – including my friend Judy – who had gathered for his twentieth birthday celebration a few years ago.

 

Outside the barn, we spoke with a horse park volunteer and one of the Hall of Champions managers about him.  The volunteer spoke of how he was not her favorite horse, personality-wise, but he had a presence about him that always made you stop and take notice.  Those weren’t her exact words, but as best I could remember the gist of them.  My friend Judy agreed that he was unearthly and I know just what she meant.  He had that look of eagles you hear about but it seemed to transcend even that, just as he transcended his modest beginnings, and the injury he sustained that could have kept him from even racing, and how he outran anything else his sire and dam ever produced, and crafted their legacy as well as his own.

I signed the guestbook in the barn and as I did, my eye skimmed over other entries and notes people had left.  There were some who said Cigar had been like a teacher to them, and that had also been on the banner outside. I was still a little numb at seeing his grave again, reabsorbing his loss, and the whole trying week I’d had, and so that phrase didn’t make sense to me at the time.

I left not long after and noticed how beautiful the sky was,  how even while it was bitterly cold outside, it was sunny and provided a blue backdrop against the sign that read Cigar Lane.

I was reflective while at my work shift that evening.  I thought about how many people said he was a teacher to them, and realized that perhaps what they meant about him being a teacher is that he showed that where you can go in life, what you can be, and who you are, is all within you.  Life may seem to dictate that you “should” be this or can only achieve that, but I think determination and will go much further to shaping our destiny than any preconceived notions of what we “should” be, as long as we don’t buy into those notions.

As the daylight faded with what I could only think of as an achingly beautiful sunset, perhaps it was a fitting end to this day.  There were tears and there were reminders of how glorious Cigar had been; there was sadness and beauty in equal measure.

I don’t often think of a sunset as achingly beautiful but I know why it hit me that way on this night.

Across town I knew that same sunset would be lingering through his stall door and his pasture and maybe some of it would reach beyond the hill where he laid at rest.

 

This world is beautiful and it gives us beautiful things

and they can’t last

that is how we appreciate them all the more

so I said goodbye to Cigar, to the physical form he had taken

but to the way he made me feel, to the lessons I too see he did teach, there’s no end to that

 

It is tonight as I write this, a few weeks after the service, that I came across the photos of the last time I saw Cigar

It was in summer and he was looking through the door at the back of his stall

The light came through and made a silhouette of his head, a glow

His graying tail was just discernible and he held himself regally as always

 

I turned away when he was not interested in visitors

and let him be

It was the only time I saw him this year

but it stays in my mind, though he didn’t meet my eye

how even in his stall and not being presented he had a bearing that commanded attention

That’s who he was

 

That’s who he will always be.
Rest in Peace, Cigar