Ten minutes to post-time. Jolene stood in line to be weighed, wondering if she were a fool, or lucky. This race was for high-dollars. Her ride was a small mare, an unknown, and the odds on favorite to lose. She felt the disdain in the air around her, and suddenly she was glad to have been hired to ride a mare.

They were up against powerful geldings though, and a stallion that had won all of his races. She gripped her helmet and tapped the whip, apprehension clouding her anticipation.

The trumpet blew at long last and it was time to mount up. Nervous energy permeated the air as the line-up paraded to the starting gates.

Everything became a blur after that. Muddy water flipped up as the horses pranced in anticipation. Some balked at the gates, others reared once inside, but as the gates flung open and the announcer proclaimed "THEY'RE OFF!", every one of them were at a dead run in just a couple of strides.

Jolene didn't notice the mud in her face, or the yelling of the male jockeys as they urged their horses forward. She positioned her horse as close to the inside of the rail as she could and let the little mare go.

Time seemed to stand still, as they fought their way through the crowded field, but the jostling didn't intimidate the mare and she pinned her ears back and surged away from the pack.

The heart of a horse is more powerful than long legs and Lady stretched out, her strides gobbling up the ground as she raced the wind. And as she crossed the finish line, Jolene closed her eyes and soaked up victory.