I haven't blogged this week. I've been busy preparing for a 50-hour marathon crop where I'll be a vendor and class presenter. So it caught me unawares Friday to realize the Kentucky Derby was on Saturday.
We are not big horse racing fans at our house. But we are big horse fans. (Edited to say Brooke FREAKED OUT when she read this. "NOT BIG HORSE RACING FANS?!?! I AM!!! I WATCH ALL THE RACES AT PAPA'S" Sorry, Brooke. YOU are definitely a big horse racing fan - and watching the Rolex Equestrial Championships as I type.) And we always watch the Kentucky Derby. Reading about all the horses who are entered, picking our favorites, watching the race. We usually spend the week preparing to watch.
Unfortunately not this week. Steve and Brooke had, of course, got on the Kentucky Derby website, saw all the hats on parade, checked out the horses. I didn't have time to pick.
But I still watched the race. I left my booth and went into the hotel lobby where a small group of fans watched on the flat screen TV. If I had time to check out the horses, my pick would have been for the filly. I'm always rooting for the underdog. A little girl running with the big boys.
We have "only girls" in our barn. Everyone else has geldings. The "girls" always get a bad rap. I like girl horses. I'm always defending The Mares. The Girls. So, yup, Eight Belles would have been my pick.
Steve liked Big Brown and Pyro. I cheered when Big Brown won, because I knew Steve would have been thrilled. As we continued watching, though, we saw the horrible news about the little girl who ran with the big boys and came in second place. Broke both front ankles. Euthanized on the track. My heart fell.
This little girl ran her heart out. She ran a great race. The race of her life. Very, very sad.