Lucy...you got some 'splaining to do.

Today, as most of my days, dawned full of promise then quickly degenerated from there into what can only be described as a little smack upside the head from the powers that be.

I spill coffee on myself getting into the car as I was heading out to the track. I hit EVERY single red light and apparently I have not been receiving the invitations to the meetings where everyone agrees to drive like a jackass. What little coffee I had left, quickly ended up in my lap as I was forced to use my covert ordinance tactics and serpentine my way through a slalom course of cars, stopped for no bloody reason.

Half way to the track I realize I forgot my cigar at home.



I arrive at my hallowed grounds and make my way towards the track, snapping a few pictures as I go. It is cool but muggy and a haze hangs over the track softening the edges. There are more cars in the parking lot than usual and one can feel the quiet anticipation of this weekend's big race.

The track itself is busy and there are a few camera crews set up on the apron. Apparently Archipenko and Mount Nelson(?) are going to work today.

I sit at my usual spot and then realize that the bench is still wet from the thunderstorms that ripped through last night. I begin snapping pictures, most of them look like this:

The disparate groups of railbirds are all caught up in their own thing. The horses move on and off the track like ground traffic at O'Hare, the riders entering the flow with subconscious orchestration.

Then, as if in answer to some arranged and secret signal, everyone turns towards the far side of the turf course. Archipenko is getting ready to roll and right on cue, my camera spits the bit...

I am incredulous. My shirt looks like I mopped the floor with it, my shorts are soaked and I can't listen to my i-pod because apparently the latest update from either Windows or Apple has caused my computer to crash whenever I run i-tunes. I have no cigar and I am apparently having flashbacks to the drive over because I am serpentining as I walk.

Archipenko does his thing, the dogs are placed WAY out so he is going pretty wide on what has to be soft ground and he is being asked as they approach the wire. As soon as he crosses the finish line it occurs to me that I have a stopwatch function on my i-pod. Boy, that would have been handy, huh?

And then just like that, he is gone.

About a half hour later, what I think is Mount Nelson appears on the track. I say I think because I overheard people talking and all I caught from the horses name was that it started with an "M". I could have asked them to repeat it but that would have meantt engaging in conversation and nobody wants that. The odd thing is that the rider and some little guy instructing him from the apron were french so chances are it wasn't Nelson. Probably someone else running on the under card, neither DRF nor Arlington's home site have Saturday's entries up yet so I'll leave it to you.

Anyway, the little bay breaks off at the sixteenth pole, main track, and gallops at a good clip once around the track, Arlington is 1 1/8 mile track. He(?) finishes strong, no urging and gallops well past the wire. This time I remembered the stopwatch and managed to get the function up by the time he had reached the half mile pole. When I checked the time as he crossed in front of me I realize that it didn't start when I pushed the button.

It was then that I decided to go home; I didn't think it would do for people to see a grown man crying at the rail.

As I serpentined my way back to the car, I looked back on the absolute cluster that was my morning and I felt the trace of a smile creep into my eyes. No matter how far things got away from me today, I managed to see the horses run and that is never bad...