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Guest Post: Jug Traditions

I asked cousin Tim to reflect on our family’s recent excitement in winning the Little Brown Jug because I wasn’t there. (Yes, this is the same Tim that had the Camero). Horses have been a part of our family traditions for years and Tim’s dad has played a central role in that.


The third Thursday of September has always been a special day for me:  that’s the day every year that The Little Brown Jug is raced at the Delaware County Fair. This year was even more special as I was going to watch dad’s horse race in the Jug. It is more than just my dad’s horse as three of my uncles also own a portion of the horse, as well as a few other groups of people.

But to me, I was going to see dad’s horse. As I often say, “Dad has had horses longer than he’s had me,” and I’m 43. Charlie has been at it a while. At various points in my life, I would tag along for the ride, but I never got bitten by the bug quite like dad. Mom claims I learned to read and count from a race program (probably true) and I’ve been to at least 20 county fairs in Ohio.

I attended my first Jug in the late summer of 1990 and watched Beach Towel win it. The following year was Precious Bunny and the greatest start I’ve ever seen in the Jug. In 1993, Life Sign was parked every step of the mile and still won the Jug, one of the greatest Jug races ever. Just typing those memories gives me chills even now. The Jug has been a big part of my life to this point.

Now we fast forward to Thursday, September 18th, 2014 and the 69th edition of the Little Brown Jug: my 25th straight Little Brown Jug, and my father’s 50th. Like so many Jug days in the past, the crisp late summer morning without a cloud in the sky started by us lugging a cooler of beer to our chairs on the backstretch. We got situated, chairs claimed, shook hands, gave hugs, then collectively headed to the Buckeye Valley Athletic Boosters barn for breakfast. We return from breakfast and the chairs are filled with more recognizable faces, all smiling, and all looking forward to a lot of fun that day. So far, this story can be any of the 25 mornings I’ve spent at the Delaware County Fair.

Wendy and I take our annual visit to the Jug barn to go see all the world class, million dollar horses, and suddenly this year is different than all the others. Judy is standing next to one of the horses’ stalls. That’s new. The horse is Limelight Beach, one we’ve spent the better part of two years watching all over the eastern part of the country. It starts to sink in, we’ve got a horse racing in this thing.

The races finally get underway, the first heats of the Jug aren’t up until the 17th and 18th races of the day. That’s a long wait for the Wingfield Brothers of Kenton, Ohio. I’ve seen dad before a lot of big races, but not so much of Tom and Bob, so that was kind of fun. Dad, he just shuts down. The more nervous he gets, the less he talks, the less he wants to get up, the less he wants to even be at the races, I think. Bob paced a lot. Not really pacing back and forth, but he couldn’t sit still, he was all over the place. Basically the exact opposite of dad. Tom…didn’t seem any different. Not one bit. He was every-day Uncle Tom. Seeing the contrast in the three of them was almost as entertaining as the first 16 horse races.

Somewhere around the 10th race, Limelight comes out for his warm up. We all take notice, I snap a few pictures of him, and we begin to soak it in. Dad gets quieter, Bob walks somewhere, Tom opens another beer. The rest of the family…well, we’re a noisy people, so we made noise. And we all opened another beer.

Finally, the first division of the Jug is up. I watched, but I honestly can’t recall what all happened during the race. I know the favorite was on top at the head of the stretch and made a pretty bad break. That allowed the second favorite to cruise in for the win. One of the favorites to win the Jug was out of the final.

Suddenly the nerves really kicked in: it’s time for the 15th race. Limelight Beach has the 2nd post position, but the pre-race favorite, McWicked, was inside of him. Prior to the race starting, the choices seemed to be leave hard at the start and make McWicked beat you later, or follow McWicked out of the gate, sit in the pocket, and wait for space to open up to beat him. Limelight didn’t get much choice in the matter, McWicked got out of the gate pretty well and Limelight had to settle into 2nd on the rail. There are much worse places to be than 2nd on the rail in the Little Brown Jug.

An interesting note: the Brothers discussed those race options with the trainer, Ron Burke, as “a way to get into the second heat.” Ron answered with, “I’m not here to just get to the second heat, I want to win this thing.”

Limelight sat second on the rail for well over three-quarters of a mile. As they went into the final turn, McWicked started to push the pace a little. Limelight was still buried on the rail but there’s a little daylight starting to open between the 3rd and 4th place horses, so driver Yannick Gingras angles Limelight through that little space and suddenly we’re at the top of the stretch, 3 wide, with a lot of pace.

Watching races on the backstretch at Delaware is a little different. For one, you’re a quarter mile of race track away from the finish line. Secondly, the horses disappear behind the tote board for a couple seconds and you can’t see them as they race down the stretch.

So from the backstretch we see Limelight get to open track, we see him starting to reel in the two horses in front of him, we’re yelling for him, he’s flying and… tote board.

Gone. No more horses. The race is still happening, Roger Huston is still yelling horse names, people are still cheering, but WHAT THE F*** IS GOING ON??!?!

They emerged from behind the tote board and Limelight has put his nose in front and is pacing right past McWicked and Somewhere In LA. Oh my God, we just won a division of the Little Brown Jug.

Pandemonium. One second I’m looking at Adam just yelling, the next we’re all running down the backstretch to get across the track to the winner’s circle. The winner’s circle of the Little Brown Jug. An elimination heat of the Jug, but it’s the Jug!

Leaving the winner’s circle I was walking near dad when he tracked down Ron Burke. Ron was looking for his first Jug win, too. He told dad, “Yannick thinks we have the best horse in the race. If we draw the rail he’s going to send him down the road.” Send him down the road is race horse lingo for go to the front and don’t look back.

Limelight Beach drew the rail.

We had two races to get nervous about the second heat. If we win the second heat, we’re Jug champions. If Let’s Drink On It wins the second heat, he’s Jug champion. If anybody else wins the second heat, we’ve got to do this all over again one more time in a race off of the three heat winners.

Before we know it, it’s time for the 18th race. Like a few hundred times before, I heard Roger Huston call out, “The gate swings into the stretch, and heeeeeeeere they come!”

The starting gate led the horses down the stretch, its arms swung closed, and Limelight was on top by 2 lengths before they got to the first turn. He was the only horse of the 8 to leave, and got to the quarter pole with no real challenge. From there, for all intents an purposes, the race was over. Limelight got his way the rest of the mile and kept his only real challenger locked in on the rail behind him, then paced off in the stretch to win the Jug.

As a horse race fan, the final of the Jug this year was pretty boring. Nobody left, nobody moved on the leader until the half, and with Limelight getting his way the whole mile you weren’t going to beat him in the stretch. His elimination race was much more exciting as a race.

As the son of a Wingfield Brother, the final was one of the greatest races I’ve ever seen. After years of watching horse races, it was finally our horse that dominated the field and won a no-doubter. I don’t know if I walked, ran, or floated to the winner’s circle this time.

Michele asked me to write this, and I’m glad she did. She asked for my perspective, and what it meant to me to see our horse win the Jug. I’m thrilled for my dad and my uncles – watching this horse the last two years has provided those three with a lot of time together – and to culminate in winning the Jug is just amazing for them.

For me, the Jug is a big deal. It’s the biggest harness race of the year, every year. I used to schedule a week off around the races in Delaware, but in recent years it’s been only Jug Day for me. The Jug is contested on a half mile, county fair track in some little midwestern Ohio town. It is as small-town and grass-roots as you can get. I watched my first Jug with a lot of my family, but most memorably my dad and my grandpa Bill. Grandpa was at the very first Jug in 1946, dad saw his first one in 1964, in 1990 I joined them, and in the next few years I hope my sons join me.

Roger Huston interviewed my dad in the winner’s circle and asked him why he and his brothers stuck with Limelight Beach when the other owners sold out a few months ago. Dad’s answer? “We stayed for this race right here.”

The last

Have you ever read a book and completely fell in love with the characters and story line, so much that you couldn’t put it down? You read far too late into the evening and find yourself gushing to book club friends, saying “have you got to the part when they…” and enjoying one another’s delight. Then you notice that you’re well over 75% of the way through the book and you come to this horrible realization that the story will end soon. Part of you wants to tear through it as fast as you can because it’s beautiful and delightful and the end product is simply too enticing. The other inner-self wants to drag it out, to savor every paragraph and sentence because you know that once it’s done, you can never experience it in the same way again. You can read other books, you can even re-read books, but that maiden story line, filled only with hope rather than expectation, can happen only at this reading and you want it to last as long as possible, secretly wishing it would never end.

And so it goes with parenting the last child.max

The first child, the baptism of parenting, is its own beautiful animal. You never really know what’s coming next. Nothing can compare with or replace the experience of your first time with a little human depending upon you for everything – each subsequent experience adds to that and stands alone in its special way, but the first time is unique in its firstness.

In much the same way, your last also carries its own special place. Of course, many people never fully realize their last was their last – that’s a blessing/curse for some, but not all. Short of a miracle baby, we confidently believe this little guy is our grand finale, so I’m fine with declaring him the last. It is its own little declaration of independence.

I was rocking Mr. M during a double-whamy spell of teething and a slight ear infection and realized how un-irritated I was to be doing so. Two babies ago, I would’ve just wanted to be done with the day after hours of juggling, refereeing, feeding and otherwise herding my litter. But this particular day, I was fine with rocking. I took him downstairs for some cuddles, not concerned he would come to “expect it” and become a manipulative little brat. (I’ve learned the hard way they do that on their own, with due time.)

If I could do anything over, something I try not to give significant consideration, I would have had my “last” baby immediately after my first. I would’ve had 3 last babies. Written with the benefit of hindsight, I would hold that one-year-old and think, “next year, this one will be in a bigger bed, running and even talking some!” for each and every one. I would stew upon the incredible speed at which they grow in these early years, mastering feats at a rapid pace. I may be in an incredibly difficult stage (which, ahem, we are, with at least 50% of these small humans), but these stages move so quickly. If I’m not careful, I’ll complain my way through the put-in-take-it-out-of-the-box stage completely. No one wants to miss that, it’s one of the highlights.

We’ve known all along we wanted 4 children and while we acknowledged it really wasn’t all up to us to decide and perhaps we would end up with a different number, that target changed the way I experienced the early years for my middles. In the back of my mind, I knew I would have the middle of the night feedings again, the diapering time (people tell me all the time they miss that), and the early steps full of weeble and wabble. With the next one, I would think.

Now, I’m all out of next ones, and I’m finding how beautiful these moments can be. Not because they’re only joyful and full of rainbows, unicorns, and pinterest projects, but because they are fleeting. I can’t get it back, I can’t start over, no new chances – so all I can do is love from the depths for the moment I have.

These moments of gratitude for my last baby come with perfect timing as I’ve entered into a stage of restlessness, jumpy in my own daily rhythms. After previously moving into bigger kid freedom, Mr. M’s recent induction into toddlerhood sent us back to the chains of nap- and bed-time rigidity and stroller requirements. Part of me wants to plow through these days straight into grade school when I can paint my face blue and sprint through the neighborhood in a kilt yelling “freeeeedoooommmm!”

But these baby cheeks tug me back down to reality. He beckons me to savor rather than scarf my moments. He is only this small this one time – as I tell my kids, every day we’re each getting older. The crib will come down, we’ll sell the cadillac of a stroller and the diaper bag will retire. Those things will happen.

What will not happen is returning to today. Even when it’s full of shouting or chasing, ending with a collapse on the couch, these baby-days close out one by one.

Currently changing my life: Ayurveda

This past year I made one major life change to make me a better mom: I aim, with an 80% success rate, to be asleep (not just in bed) by 10:00 pm and out of bed (not just awake) by 6:00 am. I have seen a night and day difference in my approach to my waking hours. One would think that climbing out of bed at 5:20 would leave me tired and disgruntled, but after sleeping during prime rest hours I can arise and spend quality time in the peace and quiet, which is what I need nearly as much as added hours of sleep.

Allow me to let a little more of the crazy out. Recently I’ve talked with my yogi gurus about my, ahem, issues. We’ve all got them. Right now, without getting too personal, let it suffice to say that my body is trying to remember what it’s like to not have another human being sucking the life out of it. I’m all sorts of crazy, specifically in my emotions and in my midsection. To think that any of this is a single issue would be silly – I’m a complex being with complex issues. Deep in me, I know I cannot find the miracle vitamin to make it perfect (although, magnesium is pretty close. I’ve been supplementing for quite a while, but I hear it pays to read the directions on your package and take all 3 doses, not just one, to make it effective. Life tip, right there. For free, just for my friends.)

Enter Lia, and Ayurveda. Ayurveda isn’t a diet concept like eating gluten free (which I do) or vegetarianism (which I don’t); while eating plays a leading Fotolia_14177618_Subscription_XXLrole in understanding our health, Ayurveda looks at life as a whole person: when and how you sleep, when you’re productive, how you exercise, and temperament. We’re each uniquely built and Ayurveda asks me the question: what adjustments need to be made to return to my natural, optimal state of being? It operates around the concepts of doshas, which I will not attempt to explain. Why?

Because Lia does it better. And she will! She’s hosting a workshop on October 4 from 12-2 pm to give a basic understanding about Ayurveda in life and health. It gets better: she’s willing to lead a group of us through a seasonal reset, immersing us in an experience of examining life through the lens of Ayurveda. Last year I couldn’t make the workshop and I was nursing during the reset so opted out of the experience. I’m oh-so-jazzed to be getting in on it this year.

Also, if you’re in the Troy area, she’s hosting a free book club through Yellow Tree Yoga on the book Balance Your Hormones, Balance Your Life by Dr. Claudia Welch. Yep, I’m getting in on that one, too. It will be every other Monday in October and November, starting 10/13.

 

 

*Full disclosure, I’m compensated with yoga to help Yellow Tree Yoga get their messages out to their people. But I tell you this of my own accord, not by any request of YTY. They’re just that super.

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