“Pretty is as pretty does” and “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” were popular expressions in the rural upstate New York State community that we grew up in. These expressions are often used when describing horses entered in such races as the Kentucky Derby–a race that has been held on the first Saturday in May ever since its inception almost one hundred and fifty years ago. The Kentucky Derby, a nationally famous and much storied race with a rich history, is for 3-yearold colts; it is also the first leg of the Triple Crown and as such is Churchill Downs’ premiere race. Looking magnificent as they approach the saddling area, you get the sense of regal breeding inherent in each racehorse. But, as with all things, there are exceptions–and every so often a racehorse with great potential and ability will possess an appearance that can range from plain to plain ugly! Racehorses are athletes with no other purpose than to run with determination, speed and a display of heart that sets them apart from every other equine species in existence. But if they can’t or won’t run fast, with rare exceptions, good looks will not save them from a life that can be both short and bleak. Of course colts and fillies with exceptional race records generally make it to the breeding shed and for those fortunate few, while racing may be over–life on the breeding farm, is “as good as it gets.”
We had a farm in Pennsylvania on the border of New York and New Jersey, deep in the Pocono Mountains, and for the better part of a quarter century we bred, raised, broke and trained thoroughbred racehorses. We shipped our horses off the farm to area racetracks including Philadelphia Park, Aqueduct, Monmouth Park, Delaware Park, Meadowlands and Penn National. Each morning from early spring until late fall I would delight in galloping horses through the mountain mist, across open fields and up a 5/8 mile grass course. Running a horse farm and racing horses, isn’t something you do—it is a way of life and so it was with us. As it is on so many breeding farms, we raised a lot of elegant looking horses that couldn’t outrun a one legged fat man. But we also raised some that could run fast, and a few of those that were exceptional Went on to win stake races. . . One such horse was a filly named Regalrina.
IN THE BEGINNING:
Unforgiving and relentless may best describe winter from Christmas until well after the 1st of April in northeastern Pennsylvania. Snowstorms, flurries, wind of 20 knots or more and temperatures below freezing are normal and expected. And so it was on a snowy February 1981 night as the wind battered our house and the temperature slid below 20 degrees creating a wind chill factor of well below zero, we sat at our kitchen table as a mare paced nervously back and forth in the barn’s foaling stall. Heat rising from her body changed the cold night air into a steam like visible moisture. Nervous, anxious and not understanding her predicament the mare was showing all the signs of a new mother about to foal. Not wanting to disturb her, we sat at the kitchen table sipping hot tea, watching the closed circuit TV, waiting for the mare who could find no comfort in any position to lie down for a final time before making our way to the barn. The instinct of a mare about to foal is to take advantage of the dark of night for protection from predators and she will begin to seek a safe place to foal sometime before sundown and because of the success of those instincts over the millennium’s the majority of foals arrive during night time hours even on a farm where the mare has the protection and the safety of a secure barn. On this night suddenly the mare stops her nervous pacing and in an effort that only accents the discomfort of her late stages of pregnancy and highlights her frustration she attempts to gets down in hopes of being able to stretch out and relieving the strain of her pregnancy. Finding that this position provides no comfort, she realizes the pressure of lying down on her side has only made things worse so she quickly struggles to regain her footing — only to change her mind in the middle of the process of getting to her feet and goes down once more in frustration. Clearly the time is near for her to foal. This is the mare’s first baby and her discomfort, frustration and fear of the unknown is easily recognized we have seen it in other mare’s dozens of times before. Of course there is nothing we can do to assist the confused, frighten and frustrated mare that is within minutes of delivering her first foal. That is until she finally gets down and stays down. When she does–armed with iodine, towels, a fleet enema for the new born foal and latex gloves–we make our way to the barn. Once the foaling process begins it is over quickly. In less than 30 minutes the mare has her first foal. Lying in a heap behind a spent and completely exhausted mare is her odd shaped and oversized progeny a foal so ugly it would chase a hungry dog off of a meat truck! The mother who for the moment needs a few minutes to rest and recuperate from her ordeal is unable and unwilling to make an attempt to care for her off spring. For the time being she seems oblivious to our handling the newly arrived foal. We move quickly and begin cleaning the area around the eyes and nostrils of the foal so that it can breathe easier and examine the new world it has just entered. Also after the umbilical cord is broken we apply iodine as a disinfectant to that area of the foal’s anatomy and administer a fleet enema to the new born foal in an effort to encourage an initial and very important bowel movement. Once we have completed our assigned task we step back to look at this colossal mass covered in afterbirth. Our natural curiosity encourages us to determine the sex of the baby. So we decide a further examination is necessary and from that we determined this unusual oversized foal is a filly. After a few minutes rest the mother forces herself to get up on her feet and begins the cleanup process necessary to formally introduce herself to and ensure the wellbeing and health of her new born baby girl. Totally put off by what this mare has produced we are rendered speechless as well as dazed and confused for the first hour of this filly’s life. As time passed we were certain there would be no happy ending to this story of the ugly bent and twisted foal. Shortly after the mother was able to get to her feet the baby did the same encouraged or perhaps provoked by the mother’s continuous poking with her head and tongue in a never ending attempt to clean the after birth from this giant foal’s body. Without wasting time to check her surroundings or assessing the dangers if any and visibly annoyed the foal continued to resist the efforts of her mother to fully clean the after birth from her Body. On this frigid night still wet with the slime of after birth the foal begins exploring the mothers under belly looking for a source of food. As a group all of us in the barn remain expressionless and demoralized at the sight of this ungainly crooked looking specimen. We had talked about and waited for this event with anticipation and a high level of excitement for almost a year. On the filly’s face is a large white blaze covering an area across the forehead from the center of one eye to the center of the other, then in a wide twist it stretches down the right side of the snout and across one nostril and a part of the other, making the head appear not only twisted but oversized and oddly shaped. But the worst is yet to come. Because of her size and the time she spent in cramped living quarters within her mother’s womb the foal’s rear leg flexor tendons pushed back and rigid from the restriction are not strong enough to pull the hoofs down into a normal position. So after the foal gets to her feet she can only stand on the back of her rear ankles with her tiny hoofs pointing into the air. It is not only a pitiful sight to behold but it is an uncomfortable situation and a dangerous condition for the baby. When first born with few exceptions the babies natural instinct is to get up quickly and move around until they get oriented and agile. Flight and speed minutes after birth is safety for horses born in the wild and those instincts are for the most part ever present no matter the circumstances under which a baby is born. Once on their feet, steady and able to take flight in case of danger they then turn their attention to a more mundane but extremely important enterprise they go about searching their mothers body seeking a place to nurse. However in the case of this enormous filly she did not display any of the natural instincts associated with a new born as far as preparing for a flight to safety, a feat that would require the foal to maintain for a very short distance the pace of a moderate gallop alongside or at least in close pursuit of the mother if any danger was near. On this night with this baby perhaps because of a stubborn streak, a sign of independence or more likely a case of blatant stupidity flight to safety was of no concern instead she immediately commenced a search of her mother’s body seeking a food source. Watching her Struggle because of her weak flexor tendons was pitiful as well as painful and yet it did not seem to inhibit this new born foal from her mission. She exhibited no fear of the new surrounding she was literally dropped into just minutes before or anything in it. It was as if she had been programed for just one task after birth, find a food source. The need for safety precaution if for no other reason than the fact that her flexor tendons were not preforming properly did not seem to be a concern to this particular foal there was the sense that if something out of the ordinary came about she would just deal with it when the need arose. This without doubt was an odd behavior for a new foal. But then perhaps she assumed her quasi-Moto appearance and awkward way of traveling would create too big and obstacle or appear as to unappetizing for the ordinary predator to become interested. On the bright side this lack of desire to engage in travel for any reason served her well early on because if she as most new born foals do soon after getting to their feet began racing in circles around her mother and jumping up and down enjoying their new found freedom this would most definitely put a lot of strain on the ankle joints. Over a very short time constant movement and pounding on the back of the heels could create sores and infection and if left unattended in the joints of the ankle this is very dangerous for a new baby because they have not yet developed the necessary antibodies to deal with infections. It takes some time for the natural immune system of these youngsters to mature and become effective. For now there is nothing we can do but wait and see if the foal’s tendons will begin to strengthen and straighten out the lower extremity of her rear legs forcing the hoofs into the normal position. Up until this point we have had no need for the spoken word to communicate our concerns, for those in the barn the situation is perfectly clear, collectively without communication we have reached a unanimous consensus of opinion–this is one ugly baby! To simply say this foal a thoroughbred with the credentials to be a race horse has an ugly face, is short legged, fat, with weak flexor tendons and the bay color of her coat is atrocious, would not adequately prepare the average person for the full extent of just how ugly this filly really was. For eleven months and nine days we had been waiting collectively with anticipation for this mare to deliver what we were sure would be–if nothing else — a beautiful foal. We were confident that on this first day of life for her foal our mare would have produced an off spring we would be proud of and surly it would be a thing of beauty. Instead she produced what with good reason we now believed was the ugliest foal ever to step foot into the equine world since the recording of such events began. Slowly as the sun made its way over the mountain announcing a new day for us sleep was out of the question we needed to find a way to recover from our disappointment. By mid-day a local veterinarian who is a friend of ours stopped by to see the new addition to our stable? After carefully examining the foal and weighting the various options available to us his advice was simple and also to the point. Save your money and put this sad equine specimen down; he saw no potential in her–as a racehorse or even as a riding horse; “cut your losses” he advised. Our sense of deep depression and remorse only worsened. To make matters worse family members and their friends having driven one hundred and twenty five miles armed with cameras and plenty of film looking forward to taking pictures and documenting this most sacred event had just arrived. Upon entering the barn they too were stunned and confused by our tepid welcome. Shocked into bewilderment by the sight of our ungainly specimen and unnerved by the comments of our friendly veterinarian our well-meaning but amateur photographers, family as well as friends put their lens caps back on their cameras and quickly put them away. Expressing their condolence as if this were a funeral, without further comment this entourage departed for home thankful they did not have pictures to remember or remind them of this trip or the sights they had been a witness to. After anticipating the arrival of this foal we had so much invested emotionally as well as financially we could never considered taking our veterinary friends very sound advice, although I had trouble explaining to myself why. After several days the tendons began to strengthen, pulling the hoofs down toward a normal position and thereby taking the strain off her ankle joints. Also as time passed her natural bay color improved a bit but still it was difficult to be encouraged. Soon it became apparent that her veracious appetite would rival her ugliness for attention, for it, too, was obnoxious, unavoidable and ever present. Each day we would turn the mares and the babies out for an hour or so and in spite of the winter weather and a paddock covered in snow the babies would run a bit and jump as they got to know each other with one exception the ugly foal. She would nurse first then find a nice pile of snow and lay down until the urge to nurse would again overwhelm her. The top speed of this would be race horse barely approach the pace of a slow walk. She was last where ever this group of mares and foals went except if there was food associated with the move. At night in the barn and in their stall our over-sized ugly foal slept in a pile of straw as her mother stood watch over her. 
GROWING UP:
We had 6 foals that year and it was a pleasure to see them running across the open fields that filled the picture windows of our home, windows that included a view some 20 or more miles down a valley. The view and the setting was at a minimum spectacular and I shall never forget it. Horses, like many animals, develop a personality uniquely their own and as we watched the foals interact with their peers, speculation as to who will run and do well at the racetrack becomes part of the daily lexicon. Each day as we watched the babies frolicking in the field, it was clear that the ugly one had no interest in competing for anything except food. Feeding arrangements were such that we hung feed tubs off fence posts 8 feet apart for each of the babies hoping the space between feed tubs will prevent them from fighting over the food and give each a chance for an equal amount of grain. I was always amazed to see the other seemingly more aggressive and full of life foals fighting over the feed in each tub while the ugly one would go to the closest tub and assume control of the contents without ever a challenge from any of her peers. Could it be, I wondered, is she too ugly for them to face while eating? She never competed with the other foals in their juvenile games; she had reduced life to sleeping in between meals and little else. It was disheartening to see the others running as if they knew why they were born while she lay stretched out sleeping in the field.
At 20 months of age babies are brought into the barn to begin the process of becoming a racehorse. The training takes about 8 to 10 months depending on injuries, sickness and other setbacks. After a technique known as “long lining” is completed, it is time to teach the babies to carry a rider. The first 5 babies bucked and jumped, as the rider straddled the saddle putting up quite a bit of a protest before giving up their independence. Short legged, fat, out of shape and lazy, the ugly one bucked one time maybe two, got tired and gave up. She was not going to expend energy on useless protest! The others became willing workers and soon they were acting and beginning to look like would-be racehorses. It was time now to name them with the Jockey Club. We named the ugly one Regalrina–a combination of her sire and dam’s names. I’m quite sure both would have protested if given an opportunity. As summer approached five of the six babies were training strong, gliding across the ground with long powerful strides; they were becoming strong, seasoned and fit. Regalrina took short choppy steps, huffing-and-puffing as any out of shape would-be athlete might. Somehow she always found time to eat before going to sleep. As spring arrives training for the babies is in the final phase–they will soon be taken to the race track where they will learn to compete, run along the rail come off the pace and get dirt kicked in their face while dueling with other horses in speed works. A final and most important step in their training is a very stressful event in the process of preparing them to race; they will learn to break from the starting gate. The first step in this procedure is to teach them to stand still in the gate with the front gate left open then to leave on a dead run in unison with the other horses. Gate training is stressful and dangerous to both man and horse. Finally they are taught to break with others in a work type atmosphere then as a prelude to graduation they stand with the front gate closed and break at the sound of a bell ringing as the front gate slamming open. Our horses, having been well schooled early on, seemed to handle gate instruction a bit better than most others and their gate training is usually completed without incident.
GRADUATION:
Regalrina showed no interest in racing, running last in every work she had. On “graduation day” the horses enter the starting gate for a final test–a PA State racing official is there to issue gate cards to those horses that qualify. Twelve horses are in the starting gate; among them is Regalrina. Standing with her head hung low as if asleep, the fear of embarrassment hangs heavy. Suddenly the bell rings, the starting gate slams open, the horses jump out and to everyone’s surprise (especially mine) leading the way is Regalrina! In an instant our short fat loner has become the major topic of conversation and we look forward to her first race and the opportunity to bet on her.
RACING DEBUT :
Until any horse, male or female, wins its first race, it is referred to as a ”maiden,” so races for such horses are called maiden races. Fillies can compete against the colts and enter their maiden races but colts cannot compete in filly maiden races; males, particularly 2- and 3- year old colts generally have the advantage because their physical development is more advanced than the girls. Unable to find a maiden race for fillies at any of the tracks in New York, New Jersey or Philadelphia, out of frustration we enter her in a maiden race for colts. On race day, unconcerned about the gender difference, Regalrina conserves her energy and runs just fast enough to beat the boys, traveling 5/8 of a mile in 59 seconds flat! After the race is over Regalrina is anxious to get back to her stall, a meal and a good night’s sleep. Next we enter her in a stakes race at Penn National Race Track—The Blue Mountain Futurity a restricted race for fillies. Regalrina wins this race handily. In her next race trapped on the rail she finishes third in Philadelphia Parks Signature Stakes.
NEW YORK NEW YORK:
Meadowlands Race Track as the crow flies is about 5 miles west of Manhattan across the Hudson River in New Jersey. Surrounded by 14 million people, it is big time racing at its finest; the New York track sports the reputation that “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” We entered Regalrina in the Meadowlands “Caroling Stakes” scheduled for nighttime racing a week before Christmas. Early confidence in our horse was soon to give way to reality.
PRESS REVIEWS OR SAY IT ISN’T SO:
The New York press operates without mercy for those it deems as outsiders and will lavish its praise on those who feed from the same trough. In the days leading up to our race the newspapers of New York and Newark as well as The Daily Racing Form were full of stories about Robert Brennan, a New Jersey banker who headed a syndicate that invested in racehorses. We were to learn that the syndicate had just paid $1.2 million dollars for a filly named Donna’s World and she would be running in the Caroling Stakes. To further dampen our holiday spirits, the press stories were full of praise for Donna’s World and the other New York based horses. About Regalrina at best there were only a few words at the end of each story, usually implying there was no chance at all of Regalrina winning a race against the caliber of horse she would face in the Caroling Stakes. One reporter said she was a small time filly that was lucky to have won a few races, but in New York she would be outclassed and in way over her head. . . Fortunately, Regalrina was not inclined to read newspapers, especially the sporting sections. . . .
OPENING NIGHT JITTERS:
The afternoon of December 17th was bright, still and cold as we loaded Regalrina into the horse van. Little was said as we drove the 2 plus hour trip to the Meadowlands. In separate silence we each wondered what we were doing here. Regalrina was picked to be dead last her odds in the morning line were 20 to 1–clearly we were in over our heads. Arriving at the track just before dusk, we unloaded the horse from the van and prepared to put her away. Her stall in the Receiving Barn was near Donna’s World the million plus dollar horse. Unimpressed with her surroundings and those in it, after her shipping boots were removed, finding no food, Regalrina lay down and went to sleep. Listening to the owners of Donna’s World and the assistant trainer discuss how they would get their large entourage assembled after the race for the win picture added to our increasing doubts. Their confidence was at best irritating. It must be nice, I thought, to be planning the arrangement of people in a win picture for a race that is several hours away. As time for the first race approached, the Donna’s World crowd disappeared to Pegasus, the spectacular clubhouse high atop the grandstands to enjoy dinner while watching the races. The Caroling Stakes was the Meadowlands’ feature race for the evening. It was scheduled as the 6th race and would take place at nine p.m. As the horses left for the 4th race, we woke Regalrina up, cleaned, groomed and put on her bridle and her bandages, finishing as over the loud speaker came the call “bring your horses to the paddock for the 6th race.” Regalrina, in no rush to leave for the paddock caused us to be last in line behind the other 7 horses. Donna’s World looked every bit a winner and the other horses in the race were also impressive as well. Regalrina lumbered along ignoring our constant urging to pick up the pace and catch up with the others. Disinterested in her surroundings as usual, she was completely devoid of any sign of energy or excitement. Passing a crowd of 25,000 in the stands Regalrina paused looked up as if to wonder, what are you people doing here this late at night? After the horses are saddled and the call for “riders up” is made, it’s time for the post parade leading to the starting gate. Tension mounts as the last horse enters the starting gate. In 73 seconds or less this six furlong race will be over. Fears that our horse is about to get beat by a neck, a nose and a 1/2 a mile has us all on edge.
A STAR IS BORN:
Simultaneously the bell sounds and the starting gate crashes open–the race is officially underway. The announcer calling the race said “they’re off–that’s Donna’s World taking the early lead, with the grey filly Iron Nix close behind, followed by Sun Bank Sue, and Cam Tam.” My mind raced as I listened for Regalrina’s name to be mentioned. The announcer continuing his call of the race said, “passing the ½ mile marker that’s Donna’s World taking an easy three length lead ahead of Cleo’s Pride and Sun Bank Sue followed by the grey filly Iron Nix, approaching the 3/8 pole that’s Donna’s World, all alone with a three and a half length lead, Sun Bank Sue and Cleo’s Pride–those two are battling it out for second place followed by Cam Tam and Iron Nix.” After a very short pause, in disbelief, I heard him say leaving the far turn its Regalrina working her way through traffic and moving to the outside.” My eyes strained for a glimpse of her—slowly a face with a wide white twisted blaze attached to a big barrel of a body sitting on top of the fastest moving set of short little legs I ever saw came into focus. Regalrina, as if on fire, flew towards the leaders with a vengeance. “They’re in the stretch,” came the call, “passing the 1/8 pole it’s Regalrina in front by 3/4 of a length followed by Donna’s World, Cleo’s Pride and Sun Bank Sue. Crossing the finish line first was a filly with a crooked white blaze sprawled across her face. As Regalrina approached the Winner’s Circle there was pandemonium as the people from Donna’s World’s entourage who because of the size of their party had pre-positioned themselves in the winner’s circle found it necessary to evacuate. After the win picture, on our way to the “spit barn” for the mandatory drug test required of all winning horses, Regalrina began bumping me in my back with her head as if to say “Oh ye of little faith, why do you worry so?” It was clear, for Regalrina those little town blues had melted away and she knew her performance this night meant she would “wake up in a city that never sleeps, and find that she’s number one, top of the heap!”
THE LAST DANCE:
Highlighted by the excitement of our horses racing at many area tracks, over two years had passed since that incredible night at the Meadowlands. On this warm summer’s afternoon with the sun shining intently out of a deep blue cloudless sky, we are all watching as Regalrina leaves the saddling paddock at her home base Philadelphia Park with 8 other horses and entering the racetrack with her jockey, Gregory Stackhouse, on board for the post parade. Today Regalrina was sure to add new members to her growing legion of fans by winning this day’s race. Everyone’s spirits were high as the favorite, Regalrina, shaking her head, danced toward the starting gate. She was a veteran race-horse now with many wins to her credit and had succumbed to the lure of the limelight, just as we had become accustomed to her pre-race dance—a demonstration of how confident she was and how good she felt. She had won other stakes races since the Caroling Stakes and her racing credentials were no longer questioned. Drawing an outside post in a 10 horse field for most horses in a 6-furlong race might be a concern but this was Regalrina. Looks no longer mattered–it was determination and heart that made her the favorite of this race day crowd. “They’re in the gate,” came the roar of the announcer. The bell rang, the gate opened and he began the call of the race: “They’re off. Coming away in perfect alignment, that’s Dance Maker taking the early lead, followed by Rainy Day, and Mike’s Little Darling. Those three are closely bunched, Ginger’s Baby is fourth and on the outside making a big move is Regalrina!” There was a pause before he continued but it was clear the race was shaping up much as he had expected. Continuing he said “approaching the 3/8 pole Regalrina has assumed command leading the way by a 1/2 length.” The inflection in the announcer’s voice mirrored the mood of the crowd as they cheered her on. There would be no surprises today; Regalrina would be the easy winner. We were looking forward to having our picture taken in the Winner’s Circle and later dining at Bookbinders, a Philadelphia eatery, courtesy of our popular racehorse Regalrina.
It was as if . . . the world she knew suddenly and deliberately ended at the top of the stretch as she turned for home. Regalrina as she had done so many times before, changed leads from her left front leg to her right front leg purposely digging the hoof of the outstretched leg into the track as she began to make her powerful drive for home. She made a misstep and in that instant the pain in her leg must have been excruciating. She knew something had gone terribly wrong but she fought in spite of the horrific pain to race on. Her once smooth powerful stride became a struggle to support her weight. Wracked with pain and not knowing what had happened, she made a valiant attempt to regain her footing as she fought to do the thing she did best–compete and win against all odds. It took all the skill, effort and strength Jockey Gregory Stackhouse had to bring her to a stop in the middle of the racetrack, quickly jumping off her back as he did so in an effort to ease her burden. As we ran down the track toward her the severity of her plight was obvious! The horse ambulance carrying the track vet was speeding toward her from the opposite side of the racetrack. Completely out of breath we arrived at her side; it was clear she recognized, welcomed and wanted us near. Her head swung in my direction and while still struggling in pain she carefully placed her head over my shoulder resting it on my back. Regalrina needed her friends but perhaps even more she needed a hug, for there would be no turning back now. Her fears were real in this painful moment–a world where she had thrived had just vanished forever. Sedated, Regalrina was loaded into the ambulance and taken to New Bolton, the University of Pennsylvania’s Equine Center. She had ruptured a tendon creating a bow in the lower part of her front leg; this type of injury is extremely serious. Her struggle this day had turned from a battle to triumph on the field of competition into an epic fight for survival, rivaling closely her first day of life. But on this day unlike that first day there were few doubters, for Regalrina’s courage was now legendary among those familiar with her. It would be two months before her leg could bear weight and several more before she could walk out of her stall. But within a year or so she was able to fend for herself and would be sent to the breeding shed. Her racing career was officially over. Never again would she hear a crowd chanting her name as she fought to prevail during the stretch drive and never again would she know the excitement of entering a Winner’s Circle filled with adoring friends who thrilled at having their picture taken with such a popular equine athlete. Now she would live out her life among the ranks of the broodmares, far away from the excitement of everything she had been, and away from everything she had known.
A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE:
Twenty-some years later I returned to our Bay Point home just as a book club meeting was ending. They had been discussing Seabiscuit, the book about the famous racehorse, and Jane asked me to show tapes of our horses racing to whoever chose to stay after the meeting (which was everyone). Supplying more commentary than most probably thought necessary, I began reliving each race and the life of the horse involved. Soon we all were caught up in the excitement of the races on tape, cheering for the horses even though the results were known in advance. When it was time for Regalrina and her races–especially the Caroling Stakes–I was excited and anxious to tell them her story and how she touched us all, but early on as I began to speak it was clear to me that the passion and respect I had for her was being lost in the emotion of the moment. The words I needed to define this horse and what made her so very special were elusive; clearly I was disappointed. Standing by the door as the guests were leaving, one lady paused and with a look of certainty on her face and a, softness to her words she whispered, “I can hardly wait to describe Regalrina to my husband before we go to dinner tonight.” Surprised and amused, I wondered how this woman would describe a horse like Regalrina to her husband before dinner when I could not do it in an afternoon. What words would she use to define a horse with both a unique personality and the heart of a lion housed in a most unremarkable and odd physique? How could she explain this superb equine athlete who would give all she had to give every time the starting bell rang on the field of competition? And how could she possibly explain the sense of pride we all felt as we remembered our homely champion’s fight to prevail, a fight that began at the time of her birth. Sensing my lack of confidence in what she might say, she stopped. Her eyes, radiating the elegance of sympathetic understanding, made it clear she understood my quandary. Her smile let me know she already had a carefully crafted answer. Her soft voice exuding confidence and compassion delightfully filled my senses. In words and manner both sophisticated yet simple, she said, “I shall begin by telling my husband—she was beautiful!” ■