"Some athletes don't care what kind of shoes they wear, or how many fans they have. They don't even care that they're on television from coast to coast. They just want to run."

-Unknown

"A horse gallops with his lungs,
Perseveres with his heart,
And wins with his character"
-Tesio

Racehorse Diaries

By: Lizzy

Race One: 2004 Belmont Stakes

Disclaimer: I do not own the horses from the Belmont or the race itself. Also, throughout the story, I used the announcer's words. Excluding the first line, everything the announcer says is from a video of the 136th Belmont.

"And here he comes. The one, the only, Smarty Jones!"

I tossed my head, showing the world that I was here. I was the Kentucky Derby favorite, having never lost and improving my record in the Derby with another victory. Well, I showed them. I won the Derby, and went on to pull a Secretatiat-like Preakness. Now, reporters were forced to ingest their own words as I paraded past the grandstand, my dark auburn coat glossy in the sun's emission.

My jockey, Stewart Elliott, was keeping his eye out for horses he would try to avoid. One was the mighty Rock Hard Ten. The black colt was muscular, lofty, and packed with run. Another horse that both my trainer and jockey were worried about was Eddigton, a beautiful chestnut that was ranked highly.

Although humans may try, they can never evaluate horses like a horse can, and I wasn't even the slightest bit worried about those two. Although they looked like champions and ran like champions, they lacked the heart and spirit I had. Earlier, I had looked at the horses while they were being walked, and one horse caught my attention.

He wasn't big, all that well built, and hadn't made a mark his three-year-old season. He had done none of the things that most champions of the track had done. His biggest accomplishment was his two-year-old season, but he hadn't grown out of his two-year-old form yet, even though he was now three. His bay coat was well groomed and his eyes were burning with a bright intensity. That was what most humans would look over; his will to run.

When I finally stopped thinking, I was right behind the starting gate. The machine was one of the most dreaded things a racehorse faced. Most colts and fillies were shoved into the cramped cubicle against their wishes. Even those who walked in willingly often hated it more then jockeys would think. I didn't mind the starting gate too much, but I would go without it in a hoof beat.

I stepped in, and heard some humans slam the gate closed behind me. I was the last gate, and thought about the ground that I would have to make up while I waited for the cage door to slam open with a mechanical ringing.

"Will Smarty take his place in history?"

The gates slammed open and I jumped forward with extreme power from my hindquarters.

"We'll see. There off in the 136th Belmont."

Inside my head, I rolled about nickering at the announcer. No matter how many races they talked about, they always seemed to be a little behind in the "And there off!" I couldn't let the thought distract me as I took giant strides to help make up for ground in the near future. In a few seconds, I was already almost a half length ahead of Rock Hard Ten.

"Smarty Jones got off to a good beginning today. Eddigton not off particularity well."

I kept on moving, my jockey moving his hands with my gallop's rhythm. I was still stuck on the outside, with no horses moving apart to let me in. I knew that I would lose ground in the first turn, so I pushed on a little early speed.

"Rock Hard Ten is showing speed this afternoon, he's right up there. Smarty Jones is on the outside."

I looked inward at the field of horses and, sure enough, the colossal black colt was galloping robustly right beside me.

"Purge comes up on the rail and Eddigton will be on the outside of Smarty Jones as they move into the clubhouse turn."

I heard the thundering hooves of the chestnut colt as he struggled to make up for a faulty start. I knew that running on the far outside and already having had to make up for a setback was going to take quite a bit out of the colt. I shifted my weight as we came into the turn, aware of my loss of ground to the insiders.

At this point I shut out the announcer, concentrating on the turn. The words of him speaking about positing was all a blur to me as I kept galloping. For a while, I was still in first, with Rock Hard Ten and Purge on my tail. Calman, a bay colt that I knew little about, was keeping up a steady forth. In a couple seconds, it was Purge that took the front with Rock Hard Ten following closely. I was running third on the outside.

"Purge is the leader. Rock Hard Ten right up on the pace today. Stewart Elliot trying to find a comfort zone here with Smarty Jones."

While turning a little inwards, I saw a glimpse of the forth horse. Eddigton had recovered from the beginning and was now right up there with the top three. Again, the announcer started talking about positioning and I only caught the part about Birdstone being on the outside.

"The opening quarter went to 24 and 1/5 seconds. The half, 48 and 3/5 seconds. The pace is fairly soft today."

Now that I was more towards the inside, I pushed up the speed, allowing me to pull away from my prevous position and back into first for the end of the turn.

"Smarty Jones has taken the lead as they begin their long journey down the Belmont Backstretch."

I felt pride start to fill me. Here I was, a champion in many peoples' eyes, and I had done it. I had went from the last gate, running on the outside, to being out front with only Eddigton pressing me onward. Rock Hard Ten gave another push of speed, his huge form opening up and closing up on me. The next closest horse was about 2 ½ lengths back.

"The field now moving for the 5 furlong marker. Smarty Jones, a challenge on the inside from Rock Hard Ten. There are 5 furlongs to go. A minute from the wire. Smarty Jones has to hold onto the lead for just a minute longer."

Something about that comment made me want to run more then anything that day. One minute longer in the lead and I would be among classics such as Citation, Affirmed, Seattle Slew, and War Admiral. I would be the first since Affirmed, and maybe the last in a long time, and all this was only a minute away. One more minute of galloping and a Triple Crown story would be completed.

"Birdstone commences a rally, 6 lengths from the front."

With that a felt a quick pang of fear. The champion from last year was coming up on me. Did the tiny horse have the power behind him to catch up with me before the finish? I tried to convince myself that he wouldn't, but I couldn't help but think about his success as a two-year-old.

"Purge has nothing left."

I breathed a small sign of relief, tasting the blood from my nostrils. The realization gave me another reason to keep running and I started to push forward, now almost positive nothing would catch me.

"Smarty Jones lets it out a notch, to lead by a length and ½. Birdstone is coming up on the outside."

I kept on galloping, trying not to think about Birdstone. After all, he still had to get past the huge black colt and then would have a heck of a time catching up to me, for I was stilling opening up the gap between myself and the rest of the field, now close to 3 lengths.

"There coming to the top of the stretch. Smarty Jones has a 4 length lead. Birdstone is moving to be second on the outside."

Second!? He got past Rock Hard Ten? I tried to recollect my thoughts, trying to convince myself that Birdstone still had 4 lengths before he even came close to catching me.

"And Smarty Jones enters to stretch to the 20,000."

It was at that point that I actually realized how loud the crowd was. It must have been even louder for everyone sitting in the stands, for the thundering of my own hooves was drowning out most of the sound. I listening to the sound of my hooves hitting the ground and realized that the sound was louder then usual. Birdstone! He could take on the 4 lengths and he seemed to be doing it fairly easily.

"Birdstone is going to make him earn it today."

No! I don't know if I have enough left to compete in a speed duel right before the wire. I had put my heart into this, just like at every other race and the strategy had worked every time. If I had to lose, I wouldn't let it happen at the last jewel of the crown. I couldn't let that happen. I tried to kick up my speed another notch, desperate to find a hidden source of energy.

"The whip is out on Smarty Jones. It's been 26 years and its just one furlong away."

One furlong, I can do this. Only one more furlong of this blistering gallop, and I'm the next Triple Crown winner, the first undefeated one since Seattle Slew. The announcer screamed something about Birdstone, but I let it pass right by me.

"There coming down to the finish! Can Smarty Jones hold on?"

Out of the back of my eye I saw the brown colt, ears laid back, white rimming his eyes, blood within his flaired nostrils, sweat and foam covering his chest, his petite structure reaching out with extreme power, and his stride eating up more ground with each passing second. Terror struck me and I tried without effect to lengthen my stride even more.

"Here comes Birdstone!"

I was in a panic, realizing that I had nothing left. The only thing I could do was hope that the little colt would break down before the finish, but my wish would not be granted. The dirt covered horse pushed his nose in front, then neck, and finally I was lined up with his shoulder. By the wire, I was at the colt's heals.

"Birdstone wins the Belmont Stakes. Smarty Jones was gallant, but vanquished, finishing second."

I didn't care about the other horses, didn't care about running, didn't care about anything. With only a couple strides left in the Belmont, I had lost everything and I would never had the chance to take it all back. Birdstone, a horse who was even smaller than me, and who was never expected to win, took the racing world by ultimate surprise, while I became yet another failure at racing's hardest feat.