Issue 18
I want to talk about something good this week. I know. I know. There’s so much bad stuff happening right now! Bear with me.
On Saturday, in the middle of everything else happening in the world, a woman named Cherie DeVaux won the Kentucky Derby. Not just won it, she made history. In 152 years of running, she became the first female trainer to ever saddle the winning horse at Churchill Downs. The first. In a hundred and fifty-two years.
Her horse, Golden Tempo, was in dead last entering the final turns. Then he swept past a tight pack in the stretch run to win by a nose. 23-1 odds. Nobody's pick. Last place with a quarter mile to go. And then, somehow, first.
Here is what I know about Cherie DeVaux. She is 44 years old, grew up in Saratoga Springs surrounded by horses, and spent years as an assistant trainer before deciding, at a career crossroads in 2017, to bet on herself. She got her training license in 2018. She earned her first win in 2019 on just her 29th start, and has racked up more than 300 victories since. She did not come from nowhere. She came from years of unglamorous, early-morning, surrounded-by-manure work that most people never see and nobody applauds.
After the win, standing in the winner's circle with her husband, her sister, her daughter, and her young nephew Maverick, she said: "You can dream big, and you can pivot. You can come from one place and make yourself a part of history."
And then, when a reporter asked what it felt like to finally be the first woman to win the Derby, she laughed and said she was just glad she didn't have to answer that question anymore.
I love her for that.
So why did I want to bring this to you today of all days, when the news is heavy and the world feels like it is doing its level best to convince us that the game is rigged and the finish line keeps moving? Sometimes the horse in last place wins.
Not because the universe decided to be fair for once. Not because someone finally gave her permission. Because she had faith in the process, faith in her horse, and faith built on years of doing the work when nobody was watching. DeVaux said she knew exactly how Golden Tempo ran, that he was a dead closer, a horse who needed room and time and the right conditions to unleash what he had been building the whole race. She didn't panic when he fell behind. She had designed him for exactly that moment.
I think a lot of us are Golden Tempo right now. Running the race, further back than we expected to be, watching other horses pull ahead, wondering if we read the whole thing wrong. I know I am. And the answer is not to sprint from the gate like a different kind of horse. The answer is to know what you are, trust what you've built, and keep running your race.
The world needs more of this. Not the toxic positivity version of it, or the "just believe and manifest" version that erases how hard Cherie DeVaux worked and how many years it took. The real version. The one where you do the work in the dark, trust the process when it isn't working yet, pivot when you need to, and stay in the race long enough to find your stretch.
She came from last place. She's been doing this for years. She bet on herself when it wasn't a sure thing.
So can you. So can I.
With love, Cerissa
