In today’s reality, my fiancé and I visited Cathy at Chapel Acres to check out her facilities for our upcoming marriage. The place is setup perfectly for how I envision our wedding! Chapel Acres is not far from the city, the small country chapel surrounded by a green field with the reception site on location will allow me to ride a white horse in my white gown, and Cathy takes care of most of the details. When I asked Cathy if I could gallop a horse across her field for my wedding entrance she laughed and asked me what kind of riding I do. “Mostly English show-jumping,” I told her. Then, Cathy told me about her quarter horses that her husband trains to race. My face lit up like a little girl who had just received a pony for her birthday! “I want to be a jockey,” I said with a grin, uncertain of how to accomplish such a feat, but certain that I desired to ride race horses with every bone in my body. At this point, I day-dreamed briefly, yet vividly, about the match race with Julie Krone while Cathy pulled out her cell and called her husband to ask if he needed help with his race horses. My fiancé, Joshua, reached for my hand, smiled, and shrugged. I wish he understood how much horses matter to me. I try to explain my infatuation to him, but there are no words that portray the electric pull equines have on my heart. After Cathy snapped her fancy flip phone shut, she turned to me and asked if I would like to ride a few horses for her husband tomorrow. “Absolutely!” I replied.

     With a map to Cathy’s farm in my pocket and a growing excitement in my gut, I went home to fill in my mom about the day’s wedding and career possibilities. She was not as enthusiastic as I am. “You are not going to miss any classes to ride those horses are you?” She asked. I told her I was riding at 6 a.m. so I could make it to the community college in time for my Creative Writing class. She appeared content with my answer.

     Presently, I am hiding out in my little closet office. I am too wired to sleep. This could be my chance! I flipped through the dozen books I have about jockeys and racing to learn something, anything. It looks like jockeys stand up in the saddle the whole time they ride. Even though I have ridden for almost ten years and trained three horses to jump, the thought of learning a new riding style is very nerve racking! I wonder what the horses will be like? On the occasions that I ventured to the track in town, the angst and energy of the race horses usually unseats a rider or two. But this could make all of my dreams come true- so I will have NO FEAR. My jeans and boots are looking at me in anticipation. I will keep a journal online about my experiences and try to write every day, even if it is not this long.

     I found a poem I wrote in Junior High School about the racetrack:

Dreams or reality

Reality or dreams

Which is which and what do they mean?

Cruel city consists of a girl

Her hopes are high, but she gives them a whirl

She invests her last dollar in a jockey hero

Though betting at the track can leave you with zero

Her dreams of winning are grand

But reality deals with a cruel hand

And her favorite does not take the stand

Dreams or reality

Reality or dreams

Which is Which and what do they mean?

August 31, 2009

All night long visions of race horses and starting gates and jockeys galloped in my head! They were not dreams, but more like conscious thoughts that fill your brain when sleep will not calm your imagination. None the less, I woke up before dawn and quietly pulled on my boots and jeans. My stomach felt tight, and a giddy aura took over me. I rushed even though I had plenty of time. I poured a bowl of cheerios, then decided I did not want them and hid the remains of my breakfast in the trash so mom would not find it. At 5:45 a.m. with the first rays of sun peeking over the far field I sat anxiously in my truck parked outside a small horse barn waiting for Cathy’s husband, Butch. I contemplated Julie Krone’s autobiography for strength while I waited. If she could work her way into the sport of kings, so can I.  

     Nervous doubt crept up with the fog at five minutes past six because no one was there. Did he forget? A horse was kicking the wood barn, impatient for his breakfast. Finally, at 6:20, a slender gray-haired man in black rubber boots came out of the trailer across the street, plodded over the dirt road to the barn, and waved at me. As soon as I shook his hand and introduced myself Butch began to talk business. He said he only had two horses that were in training, he had a bum leg so he didn’t ride much, and he did not have a track or arena but that he would leg me up so I could ride ‘em around the field and get the feel of the exercise saddle. The lack of a dirt oval threw me off for a second. I guess I expected it all right away. The white rail lining the wide dirt track and towering grand stands seemed like a package deal with sitting on a race horse, but I was still thankful for Butch’s help. After he saddled a gangly chestnut and I put on my helmet, Butch linked his fingers together and held his hands out, palms up, to give me a leg up. I remembered part of Julie’s biography where a trainer legged her up with too much force and threw her over the horse! So I bounced lightly off the ground and threw my right leg over the saddle as smoothly as possible. I think I should push up a little more next time because Butch grunted a little. The exercise saddle is like a mini English saddle and I have to get used to the difference. Butch gave me a quizzical look and had to think hard when I asked him the horse’s name, but I like to be friendly with my mount.

     Butch told me to shorten my stirrups and stand in my saddle letting my knees be the shock absorbers of the horse’s gait. When I trotted Ima Budding Bug I had no problem with this, but as Butch stood in the middle of the field and hollered to let him move on out I clucked to the horse and he bolted into a faster pace than I expected! My butt smacked on the saddle and Bug kicked out in surprise with a rear leg which jostled me forward and back into jock position. I continued circling the field like nothing had happened and found a new balance that was somewhat steady. By the time I mounted the second horse the tightness in my gut had disappeared and the giddiness matured into an eagerness to learn and move forward in this dream job of mine. Butch said this horse was stronger and I would have to use my body weight to control his speed. I found it easier to keep my balance on this horse, but my biceps and triceps were on fire after this ride. I loved  riding, even when I felt awkward, because I can imagine how it might feel to fly across a track with my horse stretching for speed. I plan to practice on my own two horses at home, but mom’s field is even smaller than Butch’s so it will be tough. 

     Most of all, Butch gave me answers to some questions I had: Can I wear this helmet on the track? He said I should buy a jockey helmet and a protective vest. Where? At the tack shop on the backside of the track. Is five foot six inches too tall to be jockey? No, only weight matters and you look thin enough. What should I do next? Come to the races Wednesday night and I will introduce you to a jockey who might help you.

     I made it to my college class on time, but I smell like horse. All I can think about is racing. And horses. And racing horses. I do not know what I will say to the jockey when I meet him, or her. Words may stream onto the page easily here in www land, but in reality I am a timid, quiet, gangly blonde girl who wants to be jockey.

We’ll see.

~Delila

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