It was recently announced that Terry Fox would soon adorn Canada’s new $5 bill. Being someone who has supported Terry’s cause for more than two decades, I was happy to hear this news.
It also made me think about Terry - something that I usually only do in September, around the time of my annual participation in the Terry Fox Run.
Terry Fox had a big heart, and tried his very best, when he attempted to run across Canada, on one real leg and one prosthetic one, on his ‘Marathon of Hope’, while riddled with cancer, in 1980.
In reality, for me to say that he “tried his very best” may be the biggest understatement I’ve ever made. But how do we truly know when someone or something is actually trying their best?
In Terry’s case it was obvious - running 42 kms every day on a bruised and bleeding stump, attached to a prosthetic leg, being just one piece of the overwhelming evidence.
How do we really know when our horses are trying though? You’ll often hear an owner, trainer or driver say that a certain horse didn’t try - usually when they perform poorly of course. But how do they really know?
On the night of December 21st, James MacDonald won the 2nd race at Mohawk with Silver Label ($1.6 million) in what was the final race of both her career and that of her brilliant stablemate, Prohibition Legal ($1.1 million).
Nobody seems to ever insinuate that those (very good) mares don’t try.
James then won the 3rd race with So Much More ($1.7 million). Everyone says that she ALWAYS tries her best, and it seems that she does.
In the 4th race however, James finished a well-beaten 8th with Acefortyfourapollo ($21,105). Does he try his best, even though his accomplishments pale in comparison to the three aforementioned mares? My guess is that he does.
Results don’t always equal effort.
My experience is that almost every Standardbred racehorse out there tries its hardest most every start. Just walk into a paddock immediately after a race sometime, and watch the nostrils flaring and chests and stomachs heaving on the equine competitors who have just finished a race.
“He wouldn't blow out a match afterwards” is a phrase you’ll hear at times, when referring to a horse that probably didn’t get a cheque. Funny though, because the people that say that sure aren’t using the same matches as me.
“This @#$%$# horse doesn’t try” is another. Interesting how you’ll hear them say that after a poor finish, when up in class and 65/1 on the toteboard, but they didn’t say it when the horse won two classes lower a month earlier.
I often say that horses are like people in many ways though, and I do know that different people have different compete-levels. So I’m not saying that every horse tries its very hardest every single start. I am saying, however, that many of us - my past-self included - often like to use that “He doesn't try” excuse in an effort to cover up our own failings in terms of having a horse properly prepared and in at a level where they have a chance to succeed.
Hell, even some people who have been known to always give it their best effort can fall short in that department when put in an impossible working environment that makes them unhappy. Why would a horse, treated poorly or left unprepared, be any different?
Then there’s the one (excuse) that I really hate…
*And yes, at this point we’re basically admitting that the “He didn’t try” angle is usually just that - an excuse from a human as to why their horse, the one huffing and puffing like crazy after the race, wasn’t competitive.
The one I really hate though is the old “He ran for no reason” excuse, after a horse makes a break. Yes, I’ve been guilty of using that one years ago too, but trust me when I say that a horse never makes a break for absolutely “no reason.” Whether it be lameness, that they were interfering, that they spooked at something, or otherwise, there was a reason. The real translation is this:
They ran for no reason = I don’t know why they ran.
BIG difference.
On September 15, 2024, I participated in The Terry Fox Run - something very near and dear to my heart - for my 25th straight year.
I did this with approximately 200 others, on my familiar paved route along Lake Huron, between Port Elgin and Southampton, Ontario. Adrenaline pumping, I went out quite hard on my rollerblades, my competitive juices flowing, as is the case with most horsepeople.
Rollerblades give me an advantage, of course, over runners, but leave me at a disadvantage when it comes to cyclists. Regardless, I chopped it out to almost the half (the 5 km mark) before being overtaken by four or five people on bicycle.
My back-half was definitely a little bit slower than my first, but I gave it my all. And even though I wasn’t the first to finish, and was probably passed by another dozen bikes over the final 5 kms, I truly completed the 10k in the best time I had in me on that day.
Someone watching me finish - a little slower than I started - may have assumed that I “wasn’t trying my hardest” at that point. I’m just glad, for both my sake and theirs, that nobody was silly enough to say that in front of me, as I stood doubled-over, ‘huffing and puffing like crazy’.
As we enter 2025, and a fresh new year awaits, maybe just consider this column the next time you think your horse didn’t try in its race. Our horses can’t speak up and defend themselves, so I just thought I’d tell this story from my vantage point on their behalf.
Happy New Year!
Dan Fisher [email protected]