Tough break for a tough lady.
The big girl was gaining ground on Big Brown. Closing down on him in the stretch with a full head of steam when something happened and she started fading. Damned shame. She purely ran her heart out.
I suspect she broke those bones running and never even noticed until they began making it mechanically impossible for her to run well. Horses pick up on prevalent emotions and there is always a fever pitch of excitement at the Derby. So, not only are they keyed up because they know they are about to race, but the intensity and level of excitement picked up from that many thousand people has the horses riding a veritable adrenaline tsunami wave.
There is no pain, only the fulfillment of what they are. What they were born to be. What countless generations were bred to produce; the finest athlete on God's earth. They are the offspring of champion sires and dams, immortal grandsires and mares. Legends are their ancestral heritage. Speed is their birthright, endurance their defining character.
Something you pick up on from being around lots of horses and lots of different kinds of horses is that they are happiest doing what they are meant to do. Draft horses are happiest in harness, quarter horses are happiest under saddle and working the range, saddlebreds are happiest showing off, jumpers live to jump. A racehorse loves to run, and not only to run, but to compete. They have a burning desire to run in front.
So, think of a horse doing what she loves to do. Amplify her joy with the rush of a wild roaring crowd. Challenge her supreme will to forbid a horse on the cusp of greatness his glory. She will run her heart out for you.
She did.
