Reflections

March 25, 2011

Each and every one of us, be it as an individual owner with a single retired race horse, or as a part of a much grander operation, play a huge part in the horse racing industry. As awareness increases, as regulations continue to morph and expand, and as the different racing bodies call owners and trainers to the carpet for how they handle their retirees, the number of horses needing second chances are becoming more visible and more prevalent.  A horse called Dewana Brushon Me is just one example of this.

Earlier this week I read some sad news that he had been sent to race down in Puerto Rico.  This is almost never a good ending, and all of us who watched him on the backside last year are wondering how it was that not one of us brought him home.  As the racing season at Fingerlakes unfolds this year, Dewana Brushon Me will be in my thoughts as the poster child for why I do what I do.  I know that realistically I alone, or even all of the groups around the country together, truly can't "save them all," but he serves as a tangible reminder of what happens when we aren't able to get there in time.  Logistics often come into play, and in Dewana's case, his trainer's busy schedule stopped a lot of us from working out the details to take him home.

The old ways are going away, and in their place are huge voids for placing these horses. We who do our part should see this as a challenge, not a failure--we can and do make a difference.  There will always be horses who slip through the cracks, but to each horse that we do send on his way to a new career, we have made all the difference in the world.

Regardless of how his story ends, Dewanna Brushon Me, who is a campaigner of 77 starts in a six year span, has run through his lifetime with the same inner fire as Secretariat, Smarty Jones, and Zenyatta.  He may understand that the winners circle is a rare place to be at the end of the race, but he keeps running.  The fire that burns within his heart makes running his ultimate goal, winning is the bonus that we as humans assign to him.  He doesn't know where he's going, or what's around the next turn in his life, yet he and the thousands of other Thoroughbreds who call racing their career, run with the same determination. 

The hauntingly beautiful melody and cinematography that plays in the video above has embedded itself in my brain.  The joy that these horses find in being who and what they are is never more apparent to me than when they run.  It's as though running in itself for them is just as, if not more so, important than breathing.  I've wathched this video countless times since I stumbled upon it, and I am fascinated by the expressions on the horses' faces as they run--determination and resolve, but there is also light.  To me it captures the heart of what makes a horse a horse.  Winning is what racing is to so many people, to the horses, it's the tonic that sooths their souls.