Testing God - Please Let's Just Get Through This Race!

The horse hopped right back on to the trailer, which now had all partitions tied back to leave just one large, open box. The rest of the trip to Turfway was quiet, and as soon as he was unloaded, UB was checked head to tail for any injuries. No one, and certainly not the vet, could fathom how this horse could completely upend himself and be flat on his back in such a tiny space in a trailer with absolutely no ill effects. Not even a scratch.

I arrived at the track a basket case, but determined to not let my nerves get the best of me. I somehow had to make sure that I gave UB no additional reasons to pull any more stunts. But I have to admit, my confidence was fading.

The horse was settled into a stall with his hay net, but nibbling hay was the furthest thing from his mind. The bright lights from the racetrack and the blare of the PA system had UB visibly agitated.

As race time drew closer, UB and I practiced going to our “happy place.” When the call came over the PA to get the horses ready for his race, I vowed to only let scenarios with a positive outcome roll through my mind on the walk over to the paddock.

Getting UB ready took a little longer than normal, as we had to put in his ear plugs and pull the netting over his ears before tying his tongue and putting on his bridle. The finishing touch was his dog collar nose band. Jerry had already run bandages on his legs for support and protection.

Even though someone else was hired to “run” him, (lead him over to where he would be saddled for the race) I had promised UB that I would always be right there with him. In this case, that meant a half mile walk each way in frigid temperatures. Yup, ya gotta love night racing at Turfway Park in the winter.

As the three of us neared the grandstand we had to pass directly in front of the starting gate, at that point standing empty on the track. The tractor used to pull the gate was idling loudly, and UB threw on the brakes. Eyes big, tail up and snorting with nostrils flaring the horse froze, staring at the ominous metal monster casting long shadows in the grandstand lights.

“UB, c’mon man.” I said in my head. “This gate is no different than the one you have no problem with in the mornings. I know you can do this!

As quickly as he stopped UB started again, dancing and prancing sideways past the gate and all the way to the paddock.

The saddling went off without a hitch, the call to the post was sounded and The Unbelievable and his rider were handed off to the pony person to be warmed up.

Thankfully, the distance on this race was a mile, so the start would be directly in front of the grandstand. That meant that (in theory) I would be able to position myself so that UB could see me at all times, right up until the break. A security guard thought differently, however, but he must have had bigger fish to fry, as he only hassled me briefly before heading back inside where it was warm. I circled back around, taking my place just as the line of horses reached the starting gate to begin loading. I searched out Joe’s white and teal polka-dotted silks on UB’s jockey.

As the pony person handed The Unbelievable off to the assistant starter, I noticed that it was indeed Jeremy that would be handling him in the gate. Jeremy quickly slipped his leather lead-up through the small loop in the dog collar noseband.

In one fluid motion, the horse was loaded and the rear doors slammed shut. Jeremy jumped up on the ledge in the stall, perching in cramped quarters and looking for any sign that UB was about to blow. As always, there was shouting and banging, but for UB the sounds were now significantly muffled.

As I was the only person nuts enough to be standing on the grandstand apron on the rail in the whipping wind and freezing cold, UB had no trouble finding me. We locked eyes briefly, and in my head I reiterated to him that he could do this.

I closed my eyes, and immediately the image of UB’s pastoral setting “happy place” popped in. I smiled, because I knew that the scene was coming from him. I could feel my heart beating rapidly, but it wasn’t nearly so terrifying and out-of-control as before.

Blessedly within moments the gates sprang open, and the race was off! I kept my eyes closed, feeling UB beginning to get his act together through the first turn. From where I was situated down on the rail, I lost sight of the field as they disappeared behind the tote board.

I remember screaming (in my head) “Now run, UB!” and he did. In retrospect, I should have waited until I could see where the horses were before giving such forceful instructions.

Jerry was watching the race on a television in the grandstand so that with the split screen view he could see what was happening throughout the race. As the horses rounded the turn and headed into the stretch, I ran to the finish line. I was thrilled to see The Unbelievable finish third!

As soon as the horses crossed the wire, I ran to meet Jerry heading toward where UB would be unsaddled.

“I don’t know what the heck got into him down the backside, but he took off like a rocket.” Jerry said, shaking his head. “That was way too early to make a run like that. There was no way he could sustain that all the way to the wire without getting tired.”

As the jockey pulled up and dismounted, Jerry questioned him about the bold move down the backside.

“I don’t know, boss. I didn’t ask him for nothin’ yet…he just took off!”

I didn’t say a word, and UB, though puffing and blowing and dead tired, looked pretty pleased that he got through the whole ordeal in relatively good order.

And me? I was so happy, you’d have thought we won!

I felt we’d made a tremendous amount of progress. UB picked up a check and I figured the owner would be thrilled. But if Joe was happy, he wasn’t sayin’.

Daily Notes: Some days when I pray, I ask God to show me something I need to see and randomly open my Bible. Today I landed on 1 Peter 3: 8-12:

Summing up: Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless—that’s your job, to bless. You’ll be a blessing and also get a blessing.

Whoever wants to embrace life
And see the day fill up with good,
Here’s what you do:
Say nothing evil or hurtful;
Snub evil and cultivate good;
Run after peace for all you’re worth.
God looks on all this with approval,
Listening and responding well to what he’s asked;
But he turns his back
On those who do evil things.

The Message

Personally, I probably do several of the things that God says not to each and every day. Usually several times a day. I especially struggle with the ‘being agreeable’ and ‘no sarcasm’ mandates.

But it is becoming plain to me that while I’m testing God, he’s doing a little testing of his own. This experiment isn’t ‘all about the Benjamins, baby.’ Because the blessings I’m receiving don’t all come in financial form, neither should my blessings to others be only monetary.

I’m trying to get it, Lord. Please be patient with me.

Testing God - Back To UB, Who Is Not A Patient Fellow

While we wait on the FedEx guy to bring those documents to my door, I think we’d better be getting back to UB and his first race for trainer Jerry Wylie.

Mark’s trailer was what is called a slant. For those non-horsey types out there, this means that the trailer is configured to haul 3 or 4 horses at a time, and the horses travel fairly closely confined, standing at an angle. (Hence the term ‘slant.’) In my humble opinion, someone who has never been around equines must have come up with this idea. At the very least, it was someone who has never dealt with Thoroughbreds. The first horse is loaded and tied to the wall of the trailer, and then a hinged partition swings over and latches, to hold that horse in place. Repeat the process with the 2nd, 3rd and 4th horses.

I’ve never been a fan of this type of trailer, simply because I worry (of course I do!!!) about what happens if one of the first horses loaded throws a fit.

In UB’s case, he was the only one in the trailer for this trip. UB hopped right on like he was happy to be going for a ride, and I was hopeful that this was a good sign. Locked and loaded with tack trunk stowed, Mark and Tammy and Jerry headed up the road, and I went to fetch Ian.

Ian and I were halfway to Turfway Park when my phone rang. It was Jerry, calling to let me know that they had arrived.

“Uneventful trip?” I queried.

“Um,” Jerry hedged. “Not really. But he seems to be OK.”

“Who seems to be OK?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I could feel myself starting to panic.

Now, in retrospect, it’s a funny story. Hilarious, even. But right then, not so much. And all I can say is it’s a very good thing that I was not traveling with the party of four in the truck and trailer.

The foursome had been on the highway approximately 10 miles when the whole truck and trailer started to sway back and forth. All three passengers in the truck knew immediately that something was amiss in the trailer. Thankfully, an exit was coming up and Mark wasted no time in pulling off. Just off the exit ramp was a Days Inn motel, and they quickly swung into the parking lot.

Jerry scrambled out one door and Tammy out the other before Mark even had the rig completely stopped. As Jerry passed the trailer window, he glanced in and nearly fainted—UB was completely upside down, with all four hooves in the air.

He had flipped completely over within the slanted partition, breaking his halter in the process. Tammy had a spare, but before they could re-halter UB, he had to be freed.

Trapped between the slants in the trailer, there was nothing to do but release the partition that held him and roll UB over. The slant was released, and UB rolled himself over and out into the Days Inn lot.

Re-haltered, UB got up, shook himself off and looked at his traveling companions like “What are you lookin’ at?”

Daily Notes: Back to Rich Toward God by Dr. Kregg Hood—Dr. Hood talks about 3 traps against trust. He talks about how having wealth without God is a waste. He says that when we don’t give, two bad things happen. First, we will miss many of the blessings that God wants us to have, enjoy, and use for his glory. Secondly, we take the risk of falling into three dangerous traps.

Trap 1: The “Do It Yourself” Spirit – Instead of relying on God, we think we can do it ourselves. Then we miss out on all the various ways that God uses as his “delivery system” to get blessings into our lives. Hood likens this to placing an order with, say, Amazon.com. You place the order, and the company contacts their warehouse to ship the order to you. Later, if you want to make another purchase, you don’t contact the warehouse directly, you go back to the source company. And it should be that way with us. We don’t put our confidence in the delivery system or the warehouse; we put our confidence in God who provides the resources.

Trap 2: Materialism – Materialism is addictive. If the accumulation of more and more stuff is the primary focus, there is no easy way to stop. Accumulation becomes the trap. Hood says our fast-paced, high-pressure, consumer oriented society can lead us away from generosity. Credit card debt and bankruptcy rates are soaring. If left unchecked, we will desire more than we need and more than what is good for us.

Trap 3: Fear – Dr. Hood says that over the years as he’s had the opportunity to preach, teach and write about stewardship, he’s found that the number one reason people don’t give is fear. Most Christians, he says, know that they should give and they want to give, but they’re worry is that if they give, they won’t be able to pay their bills.

This trap has me written all over it. I don’t struggle with number 1, as I have no problem asking for help. I don’t struggle with number 2, as the way I see it, more stuff just means more work for me—cleaning, repairing, etc. That, and being in debt would cause me to--you got it--worry!

But trap number 3, even though there is no rational reason for me to be fearful of this, deep down I still am.

I’ll end with the quote that began this chapter in Hood’s book:

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”

Jim Elliott

Testing God - I Knew There Was A Reason I Majored In Journalism

The poor reporter had caught me at a bad time, having just had another sad, sad case ship from a West Virginia track to Bethlehem Farm. To say the least, I spoke my mind about the industry that I once loved. The lack of concern at the upper echelons of racing about the cruelty that was allowed to go on now had me really pissed off.

All the years I worked on the “front side” of the racetrack, my job was to put a good spin on the sport—even when bad things happened. And I did love the sport, but there comes a time when those of us who have a voice need to speak up for those who don’t. Animals, like children, have to depend on others to protect them. So even thought I had been speaking up loudly inside the racing industry for years to no avail, I now aired some dirty laundry to the mainstream media.

The girl in front of the camera looked a bit taken aback, and I apologized for my tirade. I then did my best to give her the “feel good” piece that she came for that would benefit both non-profit programs.

Not a month later, I received a phone call from the same reporter, who had covered the Turfway spill for Star 64 in Cincinnati. She remembered my comments about the overuse of drugs and the unsoundness of some racehorses, and decided to do a little investigative reporting.

“I need to ask you a big favor,” the reporter on the phone said. “I’ve managed to get some documents about that breakdown under the Freedom of Information Act. Problem is, I’m not sure what I’m looking at—it’s like hieroglyphics! I was hoping you might help me.”

“Sure,” I told her, my own journalistic juices beginning to flow. “You can fax them through to me.”

“Well…I think I’ll have to FedEx them,” she said. “There’s like 500 pages.”

Oh, my…..

Daily Notes: I received a call from my friend who appeared in one of the “back in the day” pics I posted with this blog. She just wanted to let me know that although she has been working 12 hour shifts since the series of snowstorms started (she works for the city of Cincinnati) she was able to catch up on my blog yesterday. She also said she was proud of me and that she loved me, which reminded me that God’s blessings come in so many forms.

I am blessed to have wonderful relationships now with people from my past that had every right to kick me to the curb. I don’t know if I mentioned this or not, but as a teenager, I don’t think anyone would have described me as a high-quality individual. I’m sure I managed to alienate more than a few people.

Several years ago, I made up my mind to try to find as many of the people as I could that I had in some way wronged and apologize. To my amazement, many of these folks didn’t seem to remember any bad actions on my part. Or maybe they just said they didn’t to spare my feelings. In any event, I felt better after the apologies, and was thrilled when the door was again opened on friendships that had faltered. There are still a few people out there that I haven’t found, but I will keep searching.

I realize now how wonderful it is to have so many good relationships in my life. How could I ever be lonely when there are so many friends to call on when I’m having a down day?

I’ll end today with a quote from C.S. Lewis, author not only of the Narnia books, but also a little ditty called Mere Christianity. That book is one of my all time favorites, as it really makes you think.

Lewis, for those who don’t know, was an atheist who tried his best to shoot holes in Christianity. The more he tried to disprove the Bible and all the concepts in it, the more he embraced the teachings of Christ. So for those of you out there reading this that are skeptical, or have poo-poo’d (sp?) the idea of a real, living God, I say DO YOUR HOMEWORK, and then make your best argument.

Here’s the quote:

Aim at heaven and you’ll get earth thrown in.
Aim at earth and you’ll get neither.
C.S. Lewis

Testing God - It's All About The Benjamins, Baby!

During my time as executive director of ReRun, we were asked by a Cincinnati television station to do an interview that featured both ReRun and Bethlehem Farm, a Christian program that runs the Center for Women in Racing. That program provides a place for women in our industry that need a place where they can recover from abuse—be it physical, mental or substance.

It was a perfect partner for ReRun, as Bethlehem Farm housed some of our horses awaiting adoptive homes. While they were there, the women in their program worked to assess and heal the horses, and as horses tend to do, they provided healing for the women as well.

During the course of the interview, my views about the state of the racing industry—or rather, the horrible state of some of the horses that were running, were made known.

Over the course of 10 years, Jerry and I had watched in horror as it seemed that it was “all about the Benjamins, baby,” and “anything goes” as far as the condition of horses that were racing. And although ReRun had grown to a national program at that point, operating coast to coast in 8 states from New York to Washington, we consistently saw the worst of the worst in Kentucky.

On our farm alone, we had numerous horses accepted into the program who were not adoption candidates at all. Several had had their joints injected with cortisone so many times that there was no cartilage left. When they walked, it sounded like the crunch of snow underfoot on a really cold day. Once all the drugs that they had received at the track had worn off, the pain was so severe that there was nothing to be done but euthanize.

Another horse had been fed such a steady diet of Bute just to be able to train every day that a few months after arriving at ReRun his stomach perforated and he dropped dead. The horse had already been adopted out, and his new owner was at first devastated and then horrified when she learned the truth of what had happened. You can imagine what she thought of the racing industry at that point.

Yet another horse arrived at our farm directly from a race, unable to put any weight on one front leg. His ankle looked like a softball stuffed in a sock. Our vet came out and did radiographs, and it was her opinion that he had probably gone into the starting gate the night before on an already fractured ankle. He just didn’t know it, as the pain was well masked.

A good looking gelding came to us seemingly in decent shape, but within a week had lost nearly all his coat—his body was completely hairless. His attending vet seemed to think he could be having withdrawals from repeated injections of anabolic steroids, which were shutting down his liver. I could go on, but you get the gist.

I was getting really tired of being on the end of the shank as horse after horse was put to sleep in our driveway. There is something radically wrong when your kids start to become used to walking around a body on the way to the car.

Daily Notes: Eugene H. Peterson, in his introduction to the book of Ecclesiastes in The Message, says this: "Ecclesiastes is an expose and rejection of every arrogant and ignorant expectation that we can live our lives by ourselves and on our own terms."

This book of the Bible is thought to have been written by King Solomon, a very wise individual. He wanted the young men of his time to be well aware that life revolved around God, not them. I really enjoy reading Solomon’s books of the Bible, because he’s about half goofy and slightly sarcastic, just like me.

For me, the chronic worrier, the following verse gives me much to reflect on. It’s Ecclesiastes 5: 18-20:

After looking at the way things are on this earth, here’s what I’ve decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that’s about it. That’s the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now. It’s useless to brood over how long we might live.

The Message

I don’t know about you, but for some reason, I always feel slightly guilty when I receive a blessing. Like I don’t deserve it, which of course I don’t. But maybe that’s the point—God blesses those all the more who openly acknowledge that:
A. They have been blessed by God and
B. They don’t deserve it but
C. They’re going to give thanks and proceed to enjoy the doo-dah out of it because
D. That makes God really happy and keeps the blessings coming. Especially if
E. You let the blessings flow through to others

You know, I think I can learn to do that!

Today's picture has nothing to do with horses, but I'm hoping it will help me kick the winter doldrums. And it sure was a blessing to be able to take this photo! Thanks, God!

Testing God - Meet Mark and Tammy

Mark and Tammy, UB’s ride to the race, had horses in training as well. Tammy is a trainer, and Mark an ex-jockey.

We first met the couple when they shipped in to the barn in which we were stabled at Victory Haven. They were like two peas in a pod—neither of them ever met a stranger. They both had bright smiles and big dimples. Their infectious laughs and down-hominess made it easy to get to know them and even easier to like them. And none of this belied the tragedy that ultimately brought them together.

Mark was currently sporting a pair of crutches, necessary to keep weight off his (yet again) severely broken leg. Mark’s competitive nature landed him in a barrel racing competition with his step-daughter Sara, but Mark’s horse lost its footing it fell, mangling Mark’s leg in the process.

As a jockey, Mark was honored with an Eclipse Award. This is the highest honor our sport bestows, and Mark was certainly deserving. His natural talent in the saddle landed him in the winner’s circle over 2,000 times over the course of his career. But within the past few years, he had hung up his tack for good.

Tammy had been married previously, and her first husband, Mike Rowland, was also a jockey. Mike was killed as the result of a horrific accident at Turfway Park in February of 2004. Three riders in all, including Mark—at that time a good friend of Mike—went down in the spill. Mark, too, was seriously injured.

The string of horses that Tammy trained was stabled at Turfway. Having finished up at the barn for the day, she had gone home to their studio apartment across the street to be with Sara, their daughter.

When the call came that there had been a bad spill involving Mike, Tammy was back at the track within minutes, just in time to speak to her husband for the last time while he was still conscious. Mike’s injuries were so severe that he was awaiting transport to a Cincinnati hospital instead of being taken to the hospital directly across the street from the racetrack.

None of this immediately crossed my mind upon first meeting Mark and Tammy, and we didn’t get the full story until much later. But falling squarely in the category of “the Lord works in mysterious ways,” once I did remember, it brought full circle for me an incident that had been haunting me for a few years.

Daily Notes: I am behind on postings as I was waiting to speak to Mark and Tammy to receive their OK to tell their stories. They are very powerful, and will unfold as this blog progresses.

On a personal note, blessings abounded this Valentine’s weekend as Jerry and I went to a marriage enrichment retreat that our church arranged.

Apparently my Facebook status, which simply said “Shon Wylie is going to enrich her marriage this weekend” concerned a few people. Oddly, more than one person called me to make sure we weren’t going through a rough patch.

Jerry has always been the overly competitive half of the equation, but as soon as one of our ministers offered a gift certificate to an area restaurant as the prize for the Newlywed Game, I was all over it. I volunteered, and we kicked major butt. Of course, we probably have an advantage since we are virtually never apart. And I’m ashamed to say that the only two questions we missed were my mess up, not Jerry’s.

But I must report a personal screw-up as well. I am also ashamed to say that my behavior yesterday most certainly didn’t make God smile. In fact, I’d say it made him cringe. I wasn’t very pleasant to a server at an event we attended, because she wasn’t very pleasant to me. And this after sitting through a sermon which stressed the importance of letting people see God through how we act, more than what we say. Because, after all, the first thing is much more difficult to do than the second.

I must try to correct this, so I will be sending a note to this woman with my apologies. Of course it may be awhile until she gets it, as the mailman will need sled dogs to get to us today!

Testing God - Finding Our Happy Place

UB’s race at Turfway Park was a late race on a night racing card, which meant that it would be a long, long day.

We had contracted with a couple who had just gone into the horse shipping business to take UB to the races. Jerry would ride along with Mark and Tammy and the horse, while I was to drive up later after picking up our son from school. I really would rather have stayed with UB the whole way, but there was nothing we could do.

I explained to UB that I would get there as soon as I could. We talked about using some tricks to take his mind off what was going on around him in the starting gate during the loading process.

I told UB that when I wanted to take my mind off the takeoff on a plane, I closed my eyes and went to a “happy place.” In my happy place, I’m stretched out on a comfortable chair on a hot sandy beach where the blue-green water seems to go on forever. Oh, yeah…there’s a margarita involved as well.

I gave this mental image to UB, but he was confused. He had no idea what these images were. Duh—at this point in his life, he’d barely been out of Kentucky, and certainly nowhere near an ocean!

We amended his “happy place” vision to a beautiful, lush green pasture in the springtime, where he could run and roll to his heart’s delight. Oh, yeah…there’s a bag of carrots involved as well. Now there was something he could identify with!

I was nervous about the race, to be sure, but UB seemed to be doing quite well. And animal communication aside, he would have to have known something was up, as the routine is different on race day. I had decided it was probably better that I wasn’t traveling with the horse as I was a bit jittery.

UB at this point had become much more than just a horse that we trained—he was my friend. And the thought of him being scared to the point that he would hurt himself or others in the starting gate was almost more than I could bear. Yup, it was definitely better that I bring up the rear.

Daily Notes: A little ray of sunshine in yesterday’s mail—all checks and no bills! Woo hoo! I can’t remember the last time that happened! Nothing major, except a small death benefit check on my father that I wasn’t really expecting. I will tithe on all, even the $3 rebate check.

As luck would have it (or rather, as God would have it) our pastor is starting a new sermon series this month called Rich Toward God. To this end, everyone present in church last Sunday was given a copy of the book of the same name by Dr. Kregg Hood. The book is based on Luke 12 and Jesus’ parable of the rich fool.

Our assignment was to read at least the first chapter by February 21st. I am much further along than that, and finding that this book fits perfectly with what is going on in this blog. Just one more case of the Lord working in mysterious ways, I’d say. Here’s the parable: Luke 12: 15-21

Speaking to the people, he went on, “Take care! Protect yourself against the least bit of greed. Life is not defined by what you have, even when you have a lot.”

Then he told them this story: “The farm of a certain rich man produced a terrific crop. He talked to himself: ‘What can I do? My barn isn’t big enough for this harvest.’ The he said, ‘Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll tear down my barns and build bigger ones. Then I’ll gather in all my grain and goods, and I’ll say to myself, Self, you’ve done well! You’ve got it made and can now retire. Take it easy and have the time of your life!’

“Just then God showed up and said, ‘Fool! Tonight you die. And your barnful of goods—who gets it?’

“That’s what happens when you fill your barn with Self and not with God.”
The Message
I think that God would love to see us with plenty, so long as our attitude is one of gratitude and we don’t lose sight of the fact that is was he that provided the blessing.

I got to thinking this morning that my lack of worry since I’ve started this experiment is, for me, mind-boggling. Worry about money had so consumed my life that I really could not imagine a life without it. In fact, I keep expecting the worry to be lying in wait for me, right around the corner.

But it is almost as if once I committed to following God’s instructions to the letter, it took all of the responsibility off of me and put it on God. Which to my feeble mind seems somehow not right, but given my almost instant sense of relief, it must be what God wanted from me.

The other thing that has absolutely amazed me is how easily the words are coming to tell the story of The Unbelievable and all the relationships that were formed because of him. I’ve wanted all along to be able to tell it, as I believe that it honors God. It shows that God that was right there by my side all along, long before I ever acknowledged that fact. I believe that the story will show God working in so many lives and on so many levels.

God never wavered, even when I did. He heard every prayer, even though I may not have even known I was praying. While I was screaming in the driveway, God heard a cry for help and went into action. He answered my prayers time and again, though you’ll come to see that even though my prayers were answered, it was virtually never in the way I asked. Sometimes the answer to my prayer was “no,” but always God did what was for my greatest good, because God is good.

Another "back in the day" pic...it must be the 80s, check out my hair!

Testing God - UB Gets the Green Light

The Unbelievable had pitched a royal fit the first morning he was made to wear his earplugs to the racetrack. Jerry insisted that he needed to get used to them before he had to wear them for a race, whereas UB felt it was ridiculous to wear them in a situation where he was perfectly comfortable without them.

Jerry won the debate, but UB didn’t go down without a fight. UB, his rider hanging on, ducked and dived and spun his way in and out of the barn several times before finally making it onto the racetrack.

Jerry made UB wear the earplugs and Jeremy, the starter, insisted he wear the dog-chain noseband for a final schooling session in the starting gate, where he stood nicely, even though I could tell he was fuming. Jeremy gave the green light, and Jerry entered UB in a race.

The overnight came out, and sure enough, The Unbelievable had made it into the body of the race. I suppose many trainers would have felt less pressure going into this race rather than more, as no one (except us) really expected UB to behave any better than he had in the past.

I was afraid I had made what might turn out to be a huge mistake—I told Joe about the animal communication techniques that I had been using with UB. From the git-go, Joe never struck me as one to lend any credence to anything like that. In fact, I was virtually positive that he would question my Christianity because of it. As it turned out, he didn’t say much at all, which is always a little disconcerting to me. I just figured that if he thought I was an idiot before, he was now certain of it.

The reason I feared that it may have been a mistake to mention my chats with UB is because many people tend to think that just because you can “talk” to animals, you can control the outcome of a situation. Um, no. It doesn’t work like that.

If I talk to a group of human runners before the start of a race, they will be able to tell me things like “I feel good today,” or “I didn’t get much sleep last night, I hope it doesn’t affect my race,” or “I took a bad step and twisted my ankle a bit.” But they can’t say with certainty that they will win the race, because they can’t know what all will transpire during the running of it. Why would it be any different with animals?

I was explaining all this to Joe, hoping I wasn’t babbling. It’s communication, it’s not magic. And since 4-leggeds can’t use words to tell us things, the communication thing is extremely helpful when dealing with physical or emotional problems.

I told Joe that I thought I understood what was prompting UB’s behavior in the starting gate, but I wasn’t sure that he’d be able to work through it. I promised that we were doing the best we could to help him. And now it was time to see if we were on the right track.

Daily Notes: There really isn’t much to note today, as this is the 3rd day that I haven’t really left the house. Due to snow and ice, not my hermit-like tendencies. Let me rephrase that—I haven’t left our property, but I have left the house as the horses, chickens and goats still need sustenance.

I made a promise to myself that I would do something each day toward a RAK, no matter how seemingly insignificant, even if I’m stuck here in the throes of winter. Clean out closets to find clothes to donate, write notes to people in my life to let them know what they mean to me, or send a ready-to-bake batch of yeast rolls home with a friend whose wife’s health is not good right now. Anything, no matter how tiny, just to keep from slipping backward.

If any of you out there in cyberspace have RAKs to tell of (no matter how small!) it would sure lend encouragement. I hope maybe someone will feel encouraged to post it here!

Today's pic is of Jerry and I shortly after we were married. We had a string of horses stabled at Turfway Park that winter, and I put the camera on a bale of straw and set the timer.