You know, when American Pharoah was tearing up the tracks back in 2015, I got seriously obsessed. It wasn’t just about watching him win, though that was awesome. I found myself getting really curious about the whole story behind him, especially, like, who actually owns a horse that incredible?
So, my little “practice” became digging into that. I learned it was Ahmed Zayat, Zayat Stables. And the more I read, the more I realized it wasn’t just about having a ton of cash to buy a fancy horse. It was this massive commitment, a whole operation. I mean, the pressure, the hopes riding on this one animal – it’s wild to think about.
Trying to Get My Own “Champion”
This whole thing got me thinking. I obviously wasn’t going to own a Triple Crown winner, ha! But it made me look at stuff I was trying to “own” or build in my own small way. Around that time, I decided I was going to create this super ambitious community garden plot. Like, the best one in the whole shared space. My own little “American Pharoah” of vegetables, if you will.
And let me tell you, that was a journey. My “practice” shifted from reading about horse owners to actually trying to be an “owner” of this patch of dirt. It was way harder than I thought.
- I spent hours planning what to plant, where, trying to get the soil just right. Like Zayat probably strategized race schedules, I guess.
- Then came the actual work. Weeding, watering, fighting off bugs. Man, some days I’d go out there, and it felt like everything was going wrong. A sudden aphid invasion was my “bad race day.”
- There were little victories, though. The first ripe tomato felt like winning a small purse, seriously!
I remember one particular season, I was trying to grow these fancy heirloom melons. Poured so much effort into them. They were supposed to be my “star performers.” And then, a week before they were perfect, some darn groundhog tunneled in and ate almost all of them. Devastating! I felt like a trainer whose star horse just pulled up lame before the big one.
It wasn’t quite the Kentucky Derby, but the disappointment was real. It made me appreciate, on a tiny, tiny scale, what guys like American Pharoah’s owner must go through. The highs are super high, but the lows, and the constant effort, that’s the real story. My garden didn’t make me rich or famous, but that whole “practice” of trying to nurture something to success, and dealing with the setbacks, it taught me a lot about what real ownership and dedication mean. It’s not just about the glory shot at the end; it’s all the sweat and worry along the way.
