I walked to the Jock's room through a seemingly endless pool of poor men trying to hit it big, and their wives flaunting their dresses; which they had surely spent hundreds of dollars on and would have to return after the race. It was hard to keep up with the number of positive remarks and wishes that were thrown at me on my way to get dressed for the race. I tried to answer them all but they kept piling up, and through it all I got more and more nervous because of all the people counting on me to win and make their lives better.
When I finally made my way to the Jock's room my boss and agent were there chatting with other trainers and owners. They saw me and gave me their usual breakdown of the race, and how they thought it would go, and when I should make my move. My Boss whispered to me in a most serious tone,
"Look Jilly, this horse lives for competition. He has plenty of endurance, but don't make your move till the very end. Take the jumps slowly, and if you make it to the end, you let him get a good look in the competition's eye, and then you've got it. That's where you win this race. The jumps are just fillers to keep people watching. Got it?"
I nodded my head and said, "Yes sir."
I got up and went to the mounting paddock to find my horse. I could recognize him from a mile away. He was small, with no markings or special features but his fierce attitude caught everybody's eye. He was stamping around calling to no one specifically, really just anybody that would listen to his needless tantrum. I walked over and kissed him on the nose and got a leg up from my agent. He said, "Kick ass." and casually walked off.
I, along with the other forty-one horses, walked to the rope to start the race. I was right in the middle, the best place to break. All of a sudden, the rope was gone. Only thirty-four of the 41 horses made it to the first hurdle. I was in fifth, caught in traffic between the 29 horse and the eight horse. We went on like this for several hurdles, when the eight horse spooked and slammed into my mount. I fell to the ground for what seemed like a very long time, but when my body finally found the earth below time sped up. I covered my head, hoping that wasn't the last fall I would ever take, but somehow all 108 hooves avoided me.
Even through the deafening thunder of hooves I could hear the announcer say to the shocked crowd, "Ladies and gentleman, it looks as if the 14 horse, Endurance, and his jockey, Jill, have gone down." No. It wouldn't just end like that. My favorite quote distantly played in my head. 'Try not, do or do not. There is no try.' I will do it. I will go on.
I saw my horse next to the hurdle calmly sniffing the synthetic grass, so I got up and found strength to get back on. There was still time to catch the field. I went back and went over the jump with no trouble this time and headed off to the worst hurdle in the race, Beeches Brook. It was 5'6 inches with water in front and behind it, and I had caught up to ninth place. I somehow cleared it and went on. I slowly picked off the other horses until I was in 2nd place. There was one more jump and then a furlong of straight running from there. Every horse and rider was exhausted.
We slowly cleared the last jump and were driving towards home. I turned the horses head a bit to look the opposing horse in the eye. "Come on lad," I whispered. He was slowing down.
"Thoroughbreds don't cry. They go on to finish the race. Let's go."
He picked up his speed with every stride. It wasn't going to be enough, but at least it would be a close second. Out of the blue, the 27 horse tripped, and fell behind. I thought I was hallucinating! How could this be? I froze for a moment, but then realizing that the race wasn't over, I kept riding him to the end. For the final strides until the glorious finish line, only a single thought entered my head. 'God likes me! He really really likes me!' I looked next to me, it was George Woolf. The Ice Man. He smiled at me, and I was so starstruck that I didn't notice as he reached over and unlatched my girth from my saddle. With strides to go, I was disqualified. At that very moment for the split second it took me to reach the ground, I was briefly brought back to Ireland, as my world once again went black.
