I Jump The Rail At Churchill Downs And Am Moved To Tears (On My Birthday)

After hours walking in heels, no matter how expensive they are, human feet begin to hurt. And even though it was my very first Derby I somehow instinctively knew to walk the quarter-mile to the backside in my fishnets for a well-deserved foot massage (which is just what all of the women who own, train and are affiliated with racing elite do after each and every Derby). Just another reason I believe “My Old Kentucky Home” was meant to be my new (temporary) Kentucky home.

And this was the most magical moment of my life. So far:

My Heart Breaks (On My Birthday)

It isn’t every day a magnificent animal such as Eight Belles strolls by you, drenched in sunlight, and takes your breath away as she did when I met her on Thursday, May 1st as she was schooled in the Churchill Downs paddock. Her running in the 134th Kentucky Derby - the only filly among a whopping 19 male competitors - was incredibly inspiring to many young girls and older women alike. She was the favorite among most females and was even supported by Hillary Clinton. Belle’s challenge of “beating the boys” in the run for the roses had hopes running high and hearts racing, up until the final furlong when she placed second and throngs of elated spectators celebrated her major victory. Many present didn’t notice the ambulance rushing out to the far bend by the backside of the track, but I did. When the second ambulance, an equine ambulance, sped along the track, I knew a horse was down and desperately strained my eyes to see who it was. When a lone jockey in red silks came running — on foot — back toward the stands before being picked up by a lead horse and rider, I knew the situation was bad. When the white sheet went up, I knew the situation was tragic. Eight Belles was euthanized six minutes after her glorious victory, her two front ankles fractured and broken with no hope of walking, let alone running, again. The victor, Big Brown, made history on my birthday by winning the race from the #20 post, an accomplishment which had not been achieved since 1929. But no one was cheering in the stands. There was celebrating among those who could not see around that bend, however from my vantage point the race’s ending was somber. Word spread like wildfire of Belle’s demise and I excused myself from my party and quietly wept, hiding my face beneath the brim of my fancy white hat as I walked to the ladies room in the skybox I was lucky to watch the race from. When I entered the restroom, adorned as all of the VIP areas were with hundreds of red roses, there were at least twenty women there with me, also crying. The 134th “Run for the Roses” boasted a record attendance of 157, 770 spectators, and we all cried for Eight Belles together.

Here is Eight Belles moments before her historical last run.