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I'm going to ramble a bit. I've been pretty quiet about all of this. I love horses, have had them most of my life. I'm pretty knowledgable, and also a realist. I've had to put more than one of my own horses down.

I've watched horse races on TV my whole life, telling myself to "breath, breath" during every one. Tearing up at the end, just loving to watch them run.

I saw Ruffian break down. I saw that filly in the 90's break down. I even quit watching for a few years after that one!

I've only been to the track once. About two years ago, locally, here in Houston. Second or third race, a horse when down hard, couldn't get up, out went the ambulance, up went the screen, as I explained to my new husband that the horse was being destroyed and dragged into the trailer. He was shocked.

The feeling that hit me on Preakness day '06 was not an unfamiliar one. As I saw M.Matz realize what had happened and run to be with the horse; as I saw Edgar Prado put his hands on his head and stare at the foot; as I stared at my TV and watched Barbaro raising and lowering his hind leg, waiting for the ambulance; I really believed that would be the last image I would remember of Barbaro. Another great horse, and all the what-could-have-beens.

Then the reports came of x-rays and possible surgery, I remember getting up early Sunday morning to check the reports of how he did through the night and whether he would make it to surgery. Then the after surgery reports, and pictures. The interviews with Dr. Richardson, the Jacksons, MMatz. I was drawn to every detail. But knowing that his chances were slim.

I found myself having to explain to people how a foot or leg injury can be called "life-threatening" to a horse, and why his chances were so slim.

As the weeks passed, you begin to get comfortable with the hospitalized Barbaro. The progressing Barbaro. Then the thoughts of little Barbaros down the road starts to enter. Soon I'm only checking news reports every couple of days or so. He's really going to make it!

Then the complications. There is that old sick feeling in my stomach again. Infection, absess, laminitis. A death sentence to lesser horses. But then there is Barbaro; the nickering, eating, happy, bouncing around colt with only 2 good legs now.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. He's such a remarkable animal, but can he overcome all of this? I hope and pray so, but that part of me that is the realist knows that it's a very very very long shot. Things can turn in an instant. He doesn't seem to let anything bother him, and he's strong. Only time will tell.

We've seen the ugly side to horse racing, for sure. I would love to see him make it.

Where in this wide world can man find nobility without pride? Friendship without envy? Beauty without vanity?

Here, where grace is laced with muscle and strength, by gentleness confined.

He serves without servility, he has fought without enmity.

There is nothing so powerful, yet nothing less violent. Nothing so quick, yet nothing more patient.

The worlds past was born on his back. All our history is his industry. We are his heirs. He, our inheritance.

The horse.