Favorite Photos of 2015

For me, 2015 was about moments, days, and memories that will last a lifetime. I hadn't shot this many races since 2010, that crazy year I photographed three Derbies in three weeks, traveled to Saratoga and Monmouth for the first time, and was credentialed for my first Breeders' Cup. All the material I had to comb through made this blog a daunting task, and accounts for its ridiculous tardiness. Yet my favorites photos from 2015 don't sparkle with variety. Most, you can imagine, involve a particular horse. I would apologize for that if the horse was anything but the first Triple Crown winner in thirty-seven years.

So here, in chronological order, are my ten favorite photos from 2015, without apologies.

Silver Charm at Old Friends

As I talked about in my last post, two major things happened in 2015 that brought my racing life full circle. The first of those was finally getting to meet Silver Charm. I'd waited for this moment for eighteen years, not knowing if it would ever happen. I will forever be thankful to his wonderful owners, Bob and Beverly Lewis, for making sure Silver Charm was brought back to the States following his stud duties in Japan. Old Friends is the perfect place for the 1997 Kentucky Derby and Preakness champion to enjoy retirement, and I know there he's in good hands.

Fairytale Ending: How American Pharoah Made My Horse Racing Life Come Full Circle

All the signs pointed to American Pharoah winning the Triple Crown.
But I was tired of seeing signs. I’d seen signs my entire life. And not once in my thirty-two years had they amounted to anything. In short, I was tired. Tired of getting my hopes up only for them to crash and burn. Tired of putting my life on hold for five weeks because this one horse might be The One. I thought Silver Charm was he. And Real Quiet. And Charismatic. Smarty Jones. Big Brown. California Chrome. On and on. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… three times… thirteen times? How could I possibly believe this time  should be any different?

Once you stop wanting something, you get it. Trainer Bob Baffert, who guided three horses through their Kentucky Derby and Preakness victories only to fumble the crown and lose it in the Belmont, seemed to be on the same page. He wasn’t even thinking about the Triple Crown this year. A series of life-altering events seemed to have humbled the white-haired rocker of the racing world. He simply wanted to win one more Kentucky Derby. The Crown was recognized for what it was, a nearly impossible task. Something meant for an earlier, worthier time. Not us in these modern times.

Favorite Photos of 2014

While I didn't make it to as many races as I preferred in 2014, I had the privilege of witnessing plenty of history on the track. 2014 marked the first time I was credentialed for both the Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes in the same year. It was my fourth credentialed Derby, my second Belmont Stakes, and a return to the place where it all began for me professionally. While not everything went as planned, I was still so fortunate to capture many memorable moments. A few of which might be my best.

Without further ado, here are ten of my favorite shots from my year at the races in chronological order.

Kentucky Oaks Victors: Untapable and Rosie Napravnik

I really couldn't have asked for a luckier moment than the one I got after Rosie guided Untapable to a stellar victory in the Kentucky Oaks. Assigned to the winner's circle, which was held in the traditional brick enclosure attached to the grandstand, I found myself unable to actually fit inside for the swarm of press and connections after the race. (A symptom of too many passes, too little room. Can we go back to the grass next year?) As the lilies were draped over the filly's shoulders, I found a tiny window between a couple photographer's legs and dove in for a low, wide shot. Rosie looked right at me as Untapable picked those elegant hoofs between the crowd. One of my most memorable moments of the year is seeing those feet inches from my own as the Oaks winner strode into the winner's circle.

A day at the races, county fair style.

Horses break at the 2013 Martinsville Agricultural Fair.

The aroma of corn dogs and funnel cakes wafts through the air as the horses are loaded into the gate. A tall, oversized man in overalls approaches from behind and takes a rope between his hands. As the horses settle into silent coils, the man suddenly jerks on the rope, bringing it down between his knees, and the gates spring open with a bang. All at once, the horses leap into the air. There are only four or five of them, and none of them could give California Chrome a run for his money, but we are a long way from the Kentucky Derby here.

Schwarzkoph leads the field the first time by. Martinsville Agricultural Fair, 2013.

The ground is hard, like packed concrete, and it leaves a dust cloud trailing behind the field as they thunder past the carousel and the open-air grandstand to the whoops and hollers of a small afternoon crowd. There is no room for fickle competition, no place for plodders or tender feet. The track is a bull ring, and the pace is surely erring on suicidal, though no one is keeping time. There are no odds, no wagering, either. People only come to watch, and perhaps claim a t-shirt if their winning pick is pulled out of a Styrofoam cup.  

Horses round the clubhouse turn at the Cumberland County Fair in Greenup.

The leader is tiring now, his legs wobbling after Quarter Horsing to the first turn, and he gives up his advantage to his challengers on the turn for home. By this point, the rest of the horses are more or less cooked in different degrees. Now it’s a jock’s race. Two of them hook up in the lane, one of them wearing the traditional jockey’s garb of white pants and black silks; the other is wearing blue jeans and a motorcycle helmet. You would be able to hear them yelling if the crowd wasn’t on their feet, calling for their charge to come home first. It’s close, and tough to call—the finish line is painted on the concrete stage in the infield—but the man at the microphone consults with the race caller in the bird’s nest at the top of the grandstand, and they come to an agreement. The winner is decreed, and the horse gallops back to have his picture taken with the fair queen.

Bushler and Paddle Wheel Mary hook up at the 2013 Effingham County Fair in Altamont, IL.

All of this makes for quite an exciting day in Martinsville, Illinois. The Illinois County Fair Circuit makes six stops over the course of the summer, beginning in June at McLeansboro and ending in August at Pana. The meet is mainly for state-bred Thoroughbreds, though there’s usually one Quarter Horse race on the card, as well as an all-breed “pony” race, and if you’re lucky, one for mules. The Thoroughbreds can compete in the Old National Road Derby, a tournament of three races, like a county fair Triple Crown. The first leg is at the Martinsville Agricultural Fair, the second at the Clark County Fair in Marshall, and the third is in Greenup at the Cumberland County Fair. The winner of two legs gets a bonus of $600, and if the same horse should win all three, he gets $1,200.

Schwarzkoph, with Carl Dodd up, and Extrella Royal Rap and Noah Cruz round the final turn at the Effingham Co Fair.

If you’re only interested in top-class Thoroughbred racing, this is not the place for you. These horses will never see Churchill Downs, Saratoga, or Santa Anita. Most of the horses are home-bred and home-trained. A couple might be ridden by both. But the fair circuit isn’t about knocking heads with the country’s best horses. It’s about enjoying a small-town summer fair and simply watching the races. (And, God willing, sipping on a lemon shake-up.) There are prizes for the winners, even trophies, but it boils down to the most fundamental, age-old adage:

“My horse is faster than yours.”
“Oh really? Prove it.”

Scenic farms provide the backdrop at the Martinsville Agricultural Fair.

The Martinsville Agricultural Fair races run today, July 11th starting at 1pm. For more dates and times, click on the link below.

See the county fair circuit schedule and rules and conditions for Illinois horsemen here.

Click here to see more photos from last year's Illinois County Fair circuit. 

This was supposed to be a recap of my trip to the Belmont Stakes, but it turned into something else.

I embarked on a week-long trip to cover the Belmont Stakes and California Chrome’s shot at Triple Crown immortality knowing he was probably going to lose.

Pardon my rationalism (or pessimism, as some may see it). But as much as I love that flashy chestnut with the big white blaze and four white stockings, there was little to convince me that out of all of the last three decades’ attempts at Triple Crowns, this would be the one. That he was more worthy than Real Quiet, more tenacious than Silver Charm, more favored than Funny Cide or Smarty Jones, or luckier than Spectacular Bid.

See, this may be the Chinese Year of the Horse, but it has been far from a banner year for horse racing. More equine casualties have rocked 2014 than its fair share, from the valiant Breeders’ Cup champion St Nicholas Abbey to most recently, Derby wiseguy horse Intense Holiday. And although this year’s Kentucky Derby felt like some kind of golden miracle when the favorite pulled away to a decisive win, and the Preakness was akin to outlasting a relay race of foes, I knew too well the challenge that lay before him in the Belmont. Indeed, so did we all.

Deep down, I felt Chrome’s hourglass of good fortune had drained its final sands. You can only have so much of it, and win streaks usually only last with careful handling.

But let me be clear. Some people think the dates of the Triple Crown’s three races need to be moved to make the feat more attainable. I scoff at this, because changing it won’t make it any easier. Sure, more time in between races will give the Derby winner a longer break and more time to prepare, but it will also give the competition more time to regroup. The Triple Crown is about a single horse being at a level above the competition and being fit with divine providence. The thing about horses is they can only maintain their peak, not to mention luck, for so long. Some may peak early, before the Derby, and when the rest of their crop catch up, they level out in mediocrity. Some horses might not run in the Derby because it’s too early for them to run against heavy competition, so they wait for the Belmont in June.

The variables being thrown at a single race horse are infinite. When it comes down to it, the Triple Crown isn’t meant to be easy. Horses aren’t machines. Well, there might have been one, but even Secretariat lost a few during his legendary campaign; everyone seems to forget he finished third in his last start before the Derby. For Chrome and his record, it was simply time for his streak to end.

And you know what? That’s fine. Because he’s done enough. He’s done more than we can rightly ask for.

Horses are miraculous creatures. They carry our hopes, they emulate our dreams, they give everything they have for us. But with this gift comes a price. This sport of ours is about the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Woe be the person who gives a horse their heart, because they will shatter it. Every single time. It might not be on the track. It could be the day they retire. Or they day they draw their last breath on a rolling green hill some thirty years after they’ve crossed their last finish line. But it will happen.

Yet we keep coming back. Because those who know what it’s like to have your heart carried by a horse knows no greater thrill. At the end of the day, it’s about them doing for us what we cannot. Whether it be an underdog winning against the odds, or maintaining a perfect record, or simply clenching that one day in your life when everything goes exactly right. It’s adoring the creature that fights her guts out, that refuses to give up, even if she misses. If only we could be just like them.

I love California Chrome even more after the Belmont Stakes. For one thing, he’s the first Triple Crown hopeful to finish the race since Smarty Jones in 2004, and lost by only 1 ¾ lengths. He ran every race, and gave us everything he had, even with a gouged foot. In a sense, he’s a throwback horse for simply doing that much. His incredible blue collar story notwithstanding, California Chrome is a dream horse. It’s been a privilege to pin my hopes to his saddle and be a part of the ride. If we are lucky enough to see him race again, I’ll be first in line to lend him my patchwork heart. And when he eventually breaks it again, I won’t adore him any less.

Favorite Photos from 2013

Okay, so I have a reasonable excuse for why this post is so tardy. Until last week, I didn't actually have all of my racing photos from 2013 edited. That's right--there were pictures from an entire race day that had never seen the light of day until just now. I do apologize to the masses starving for my photos from the Cumberland County Fair. Being a professional photographer can sometimes mean putting "fun" photos on the back-burner for months at a time.

I shot more races than usual last year, mostly due to the fact I discovered Thoroughbred racing at local Illinois county fairs. These small-time races made for a ton of fun, and I came away with a deep affection for the fair circuit. So much so, don't be surprised if they get their own post as a preview for this summer.

Anyway! Without further ado, here's a look back at my favorite racing pictures from 2013. It was a pretty good year.

"Ooh. That's the spot."

Favorite photos from 2012

Why does it feel like 2012 lingered on a month or two past its welcome? I guess that's just a symptom of winter, and me not going on a trip over the break. So while this post may technically be "late" in the realm of year-end lists, it is coming two full months earlier than last year's tragically tardy summary of 2011. Perspective, people.

2012 was hot and cold, and definitely an earth-shaker for me thanks to a sudden decision to move to a new town. While the spring granted me the excitement of a new favorite horse in Union Rags, the post-Triple Crown trail was less stellar than years past. Since I moved in July, even further away from any racetrack, I had a fairly good excuse for being more disconnected. (Side note: I truly envy every one of you who live closer than 3 hours away from a track. Be grateful for what you have.) Also, I put a stipulation in the event of this move, I would get to see the 11-time world champion Kelly Slater surf in person--and it totally worked and made up for the lack of races I got to see in the surrounding months. (I'm still feeling the effects of that trip, in fact.)

So, because I like to keep a record of things, here's a list of my favorite shots I took during the 2012 racing calendar. (And maybe a bonus Kelly Slater shot because it totally qualifies according to the criteria in my head.)

"So are you guys comin, or what?"

And the Wowie goes to...

Congratulations to Natalie Voss of Lexington, Kentucky, for winning my camera phone photo contest with her picture of a race horse on the track at Keeneland. I received several great entries this year, making the judging incredibly difficult on my end, but it came down to the degree of difficulty in using a camera phone to capture a horse in motion. Not only does Natalie's picture capture a horse in a fully-extended trot with perfect sharpness, her photo also displayed the simple beauty of a race horse going to the post under a striking blue sky. This is the kind of picture that just makes you want to hop in the car and go to the track.

Here is Natalie's winning entry:

Here's what the photographer had to say about her photo:

"I had never been on the turn at Keeneland like this before, and was lamenting that I hadn't brought my point and shoot camera to try to capture how beautiful the colors were that day. I was pleased and a little surprised that they came through so well on my cell phone."

Thanks to everyone who participated in my photo contest! There are a lot of great phone-wielding photographers out there, and you made judging this contest extremely challenging. I'm only sorry I didn't have more calendars to give away!

Follow Natalie on Twitter at @flysofree. Congratulations, Natalie! 

Return of the "Wowies!"

Last year, I held a camera phone photo contest which was lovingly dubbed by some Twitter friends as "The Wowies." I received a number of great entries and thought the contest was successful enough to try it again this year. Because I'm lazy, and because it seemed to work smoothly, I'm keeping the same rules as last year. The only change is that the contest is now open to everyone, no matter where you live in the world! Here's the scoop:

Horsephotos.com puts out a racing calendar every year, and as I am one of their photographers, I get a complimentary calendar for my contributions. Since I get extra calendars, I thought it would only be appropriate to give one away as a thank-you to my followers on social media. (My mom got the other free calendar, or I'd give away more than one. Sorry.)

At long last, my epic Trestles blog

Unlike in horse racing, you don't get too many chances to see ASP events come to America. With my window to witness the greatest surfer of all time closing fast, I had but a few chances to see Kelly Slater this year without having to cross an ocean. My first choice was to see him compete at Trestles.

The San Clemente Pier

Considered a holy place for surfers, Trestles is located at San Onofre State Beach in San Clemente, California. Ironic my first encounter with surfers was in San Clemente, watching amateurs flounder near the pier, when one of the best surf spots in America was just a couple miles down the beach. While there are several great surf spots along this stretch of sand, the best and most consistent wave is at Lower Trestles, or as those in the know call it, Lowers.

The thing about Lowers? It just happens to be one of Kelly Slater's favorite playgrounds. Before going into the 2012 Hurley Pro, Kelly had won the world tour event at Lowers five times before, more than any other professional surfer. If Kelly is King of Surfing, Lower Trestles would be his kingdom. So, yeah, the first place I got to see Kelly Slater surf in person was at his home away from home.

And now for something completely different...

I've been cheating on horse racing. Like, hardcore. Honestly, who could blame me with the onslaught of retirements sweeping through our sport like a rampant disease? I'll Have Another. Union Rags. Bodemeister. All of our best 3-year-olds are gone, gone, gone, and so my interest has admittedly waned following the spring races. 

As someone who admittedly avoids most popular sports like a mange-ridden muskrat, it probably surprised me more than anyone I could fall in love with a new sport. Perhaps it's because this isn't just another game where the object is to move a ball from one geographical location to another; or partially due to the fact it's just so different from any other sport. Either way, there's a lot to love about this new [to me] sport.

I'm talking about surfing! As in in the ocean. With a board. And wetsuits. No, it's definitely not me doing the surfing. (Big HAH!) I like to leave that up to the professionals.

My Triple Crown Dichotomy

Since Silver Charm lost the Belmont to Touch Gold in 1997, I have made it my life goal to see a Triple Crown victory. Even if it means having my head cryogenically preserved and saved till there’s a real chance in 200 years, I vowed to see this happen. 

The nose heard 'round the world.

The Triple Crown bug first bit me when I was 14; the last near-miss had come when I was 6 and too young to understand the gravity of the event. I kind of blame Bob Baffert for hooking me, because his horse lost the Crown by ¾ of a length in 1997, and then by a nose in 1998. I was so crazy about Real Quiet, I resorted to bad poetry when the unlucky Fish lost. It taught me to want something with every fiber of my being, to dare to hope the seemingly impossible could happen. One. Freaking. Nostril. Yeah, I cried, I hated Victory Gallop with the wrath of a thousand burning suns. To this day, I sneer when I see a progeny of that horse in the winner’s circle. That legendary photo finish and its heart-shattering result will be ingrained in me forever.

Favorite photos from 2011

Not gonna lie. 2011 wasn't my favorite year, neither for racing nor for me, personally. So I wasn't particularly motivated to blog, or even put together a best-of post. But hindsight is 20/20, right? I now have a better appreciation for the races I shot last year and have decided to put together a better-late-than-never post about my top ten favorite racing shots from 2011. So here, without further ado, is my least-sucky shots from a less than stellar year.

The Factor finds a scratchin' post

 I took an impromptu trip down to Hot Springs, Arkansas to shoot the Rebel Stakes. While I was there, I stalked The Factor on the backstretch, where I discovered the gray/roan colt has quite the personality. During a bath, he started playfully shoving around his assistant trainer and used him to rub his head. I loved how this moment showed the bond between these two.

We have a winner!

Thank you to everyone who participated in my camera phone photography contest. It was very difficult to narrow it down to only one photo, but ultimately, it all came down to this eye-catching shot of Havre de Grace in the paddock before going on to dominate in the Grade I Beldame. Congratulations to the winning photographer, Derek Brown! Here is Derek's entry:

Photography Contest!

Yup, this is what you'll get if you win.

Horsephotos.com puts out a racing calendar every year, and as I am one of their photographers, I get a complimentary calendar for my contributions. This year I have an extra, and thought it might be fun to hold a photography contest and give it to the winning entrant.

To put things on a level playing field, I decided to make the subject matter limited not just to racing, but to all animals. (I wasn't able to journey to my first horse racing track until I was a senior in high school, after all--how would 17-year-old me feel?) Even though technically, humans are animals, please no people shots. (Though if you sent me a fantastic picture of Bono, I would possibly make an exception. He sort of roars like a lion, right?)

Mighty Eclipse Winner

Mighty Mayberger at Hollywood Park

Let me tell you a secret about horse racing photographers: Not all of them even like horse racing. Pretty sad, isn’t it, as they are given some of the most intimate, up-close access to our great sport? These are the people who don’t know the names of the horses, don’t follow the race results, and don’t know the difference between an outrider’s pony and Zenyatta.

Then there is the other side of the coin. There are racing photographers out there who love the sport so much, they will travel across the globe to take thousands of breathtaking photos that most people will never see. They follow individual horses for the sheer love of the sport. (And the fact they are positively, one hundred percent, certifiably addicted to shooting the races.) They’re called crazy by some people—by those who just don’t understand.  

I will have been professionally photographing Thoroughbred racing for only three years this June, but I have met nearly all of the best racing photographers in that amount of time, because there are so few of us. It only takes about a single minute to figure out the motivation behind each of them. When I came upon the horse paparazzi at Belmont Park for my first time as a credentialed photographer, I had no clue I was about to meet people just as whacked out of their minds about racing as I was. I met every mindset of photographers—but in those so-called “crazies,” I found my people.

Breeders' Cup Saturday: Lost in the Afterglow (Part 2 of 2)

I admit I was looking forward to seeing Zenyatta put to the test. This was uncharted territory for the mare, and something I had been beating my drum about ever since she won the Ladies’ Classic. More than anything, I had wanted to see her run on dirt against the boys. I had even gone so far as to play devil’s advocate and hope it would rain to see her put to the ultimate test—the mare had never seen an off track in her life. And here the track was, a strange wet mix of cold dirt. It had been watered almost too much, in my opinion. I had mud sloshing up my pants. I saw on the tote board that it was rated as “fast,” but personally, it didn’t feel fast to me as I strode over it to my spot. Churchill’s dirt is a thick clay-like dirt, and when it’s wet and properly dried out, it doesn’t have puddles quite like it did this night. There was no sun to dry it up; the chilly November air kept the dirt hard and muddy. But what do I know? I’m just here to take pictures.

Kent Desormeaux demonstrates a great jubilation shot (AP)

I found a to-die-for spot on the rail, almost exactly where I would squat if there were only four other photographers, and not a hundred, on a smaller stakes day at Churchill. It would be a perfect place to take the “jubilation shot” I had been assigned to. In what seemed like no time at all, the post parade began for the Breeders’ Cup Classic. It was the single most bone-chilling call to the post I’d ever heard on trumpet; not for a minor key or an ode to Halloween, but for what it meant was about to go down. This was it. This was the moment we’d all come to witness. For us photographers, this was do or die. We had complete and utter darkness to work with, with one single beam of light draped over the finish line—and only when they crossed at the finish, mind you—as our sweet shot. On TV, the lights look all awesome and glorious at night. I can tell you in actuality, it is a photographer’s worst nightmare. The light emanating from the newly-installed lights at Churchill are great for the human eye, but they’re not enough for a camera trying to freeze the rapid motion of a horse running balls-out down a racetrack.  Cameras also have a difficult time focusing on things they can’t properly see in the dark, which makes night photography even more fun. So here is basically what you have in a night race: two, maybe three frames (if you’re lucky) that are actually well-lit at the finish line. The rest is a complete crapshoot that can only be saved from the miracle of Photoshop or if you’re trying to do a side-pan shot so the horse looks blurry to artistically show motion.

Breeders' Cup Saturday: Showtime (Part 1 of 2)

Some things need to marinate in you for quite some time before you’re able to adequately put your observations into words. At the track, it can be especially difficult for a photographer to let all of the surroundings and gravity of history soak in, because we’re hyper-focused on the action and getting the shots we need for an assignment. It’s also easier to just let our pictures tell the tale; sometimes, there are no just words to describe what it truly feels like to be within the eye of the universe.

Night racing at Churchill Downs

While the undercard races (meaning the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile Turf, Sprint, Turf Sprint, Juvenile, Mile, Dirt Mile, and Turf) all seemed to rush by in a blur for me that championship Saturday, I was able to force time to slow down for the big show long enough to catalog every moment in my memory. It’s taken me a while to want to share these thoughts and reflections, because that night, I witnessed what I believe to be one of the all-time greatest races in modern history, and being in the presence of such an overwhelming event is humbling. It also feels a little sacred, to be honest. I am so lucky to have been a part of it.

My Breeders' Cup Experience: Friday Kick-Off

This is how we roll at the Downs.

Friday morning started off with a scramble for a parking pass. Around 6am, I finally texted my boss and asked if he had an extra press parking pass, as the night before, I had come to discover I had no alternative than to take the shuttle over to Churchill from Papa John's Stadium. The lady who had given me my credentials at the Galt House had failed to tell me it was necessary to have a press parking pass to actually park with the rest of the media. (Churchill doesn’t actually have a lot for press on the grounds.) One would’ve assumed this would’ve led to her give me a parking pass out of necessity, but that wasn’t the case. She had been much more concerned about whether or not I would be attending the boot-stompin’ jamboree that night. (Which I ended up skipping after she got me tickets.) Thankfully, my boss did happen to have an extra parking pass, and so I wouldn’t be forced to schlep my gear all the way from the fan parking at Papa John’s on foot.*

*For those of you who know what Derby parking is like, it’s exactly the same for the Breeders’ Cup. All the neighborhood lawns are open for business, but I bypass that tradition in favor of actually being able to jet out of Churchill at a decent hour after the dust is settled.

When I arrived at the press parking lot at Papa John's Stadium, who should I find but my motley crew of photog friends heaving their gear out of an SUV and waiting for the shuttle. This sight was an instant relief. I was sure I'd be the only one missing the works that morning, but it seems everyone else had had their fill of works the day before. We were all in survival mode now.

My Breeders' Cup experience: Thursday shenanigans

After getting my hopes up about the Kentucky Derby, only to have them shot down, I didn't want to get excited about the Breeders' Cup. It was sort of devastating, to be told your lifelong dream-come-true is going to happen, only to find out a week before you leave on the trip that actually, there was a mistake and there wasn't enough credentials for you. (Yes, this actually happened to me.) So all the while I drove down to Louisville, I kept expecting to get a text message or a phone call breaking the news to me in the ninth hour that I wouldn't be credentialed to shoot the Breeders' Cup World Championships after all. I was almost expecting it, all the way up till I went to the Galt House Hotel to pick up my press credentials. It wasn't until I looked down at my name printed on the thick plastic card did I finally feel the pressure release and let myself believe that it really was going to happen. I was seriously about to shoot the biggest two days in racing I'd ever witnessed in my life. What was more, I was going to have a front-row seat to one of the single greatest races of my generation: the 2010 Breeders' Cup Classic, where the great Zenyatta would make her career bow.

That being said, I had prepared a little by creating a “Horse Racing Playlist” on my iPod, which consisted mostly of songs I pictured Zenyatta war-dancing to in the Classic, as well as songs that would dramatically illustrate the pounding hoofs of the field turning for home, and the angelic chorus that would sound as the big mare began to unwind her devastating late kick. So I guess a little part of me did want to believe in miracles. Thankfully, I wasn’t denied mine this time around. This playlist was my constant background music the entire Breeders' Cup, pumping me up each morning and preparing me for the the final showdown at the end of it all. By the time I was shooting the races, "Kashmir" was ingrained in my radiohead on a constant loop.