The Thrill of Victory
One thousand, one hundred and fifty eight miles. Door to door to door to door to door. Middleburg to Camden to Aiken to Queen’s Cup to Middleburg.
Sean Clancy
On the Road
Road trip – Middleburg to Camden to Aiken to Mineral Springs to Middleburg.
The Whip
Whips. We have come to the crossroads on whips. Sure, we should have been here long ago, but, alas, here we are now. Sadly and strangely, whips (and Lasix but that’s for another day) have been thrown in the mix with injuries and fatalities at Santa Anita. The California racetrack has a problem, that’s obvious. Why that has become a whip or Lasix issue is unfathomable. Breakdowns at Santa Anita have nothing to do with whips or Lasix.
In Search of the One
Grand National morning. Wake up and for a moment, just a moment, it’s a regular day. Then it hits you fast, the realization, the expectation, the impending, the dread and delight of the impending. It’s the biggest race of your life, the biggest day of your life. See, riding is your life. Sure, you have friends and family, lovers and haters, but, for you, it’s a singular quest. You are a jockey.
Long Lost Tracks
Miles and I went to a birthday party Saturday. Atomic Trampoline. In Leesburg. I’m not sure what they call it, perhaps, a Contrived Community…there are houses and houses, shops and shops, sprawl and sprawl. Interesting in a way, certainly convenient, but a long way from the Leesburg I remember. Miles enjoyed the party, the pizza was decent, ice cream organic and the cleanup was minimal.
Cheltenham Day 4: The Gold Cup
Bryony Frost dropped her reins, stood tall in her stirrups, raised both hands to elicit cheers and then did what she always does and reflected all the credit to her horse, pointing both index fingers down toward Frodon’s big bay ears. The crowd roared. And roared. And roared.
Cheltenham: All about Altior
Drama. An overused word on most occasions but so appropriate when it comes to Cheltenham. Each race, each day, it is simply drama.
Cheltenham: Buveur Three
“Blowy.”
That’s the description. The one word description when asked about the weather. Who needs the Weather Channel, it’s accurate. You can hear it. You can see it. The trees are taking sucker punches, bending in half. Relatively dry, though. At least for now. We’ll take that.
