(Our Courageous Clay before, and after his 3rd-place finish at Ellis Park on Sunday)

I don’t think I have ever been more nervous before a horse race than I was on Sunday afternoon at Ellis Park. Never. Ever.

Not before a Stakes race. Not before a Graded Stakes race. Never. Ever.

The mind was going a zillion miles an hour, and I am more wired for the “school zone” max of 25 mph.

The stomach was doing back flips that would rival the great Simone Biles, and I am more suited for walking in a straight line.

The heart? OMG. The heart was pounding like the world-acclaimed Muhammad Ali beat down on the bonnet of Sonny Liston. And, I’m more suited for the brain-teasers posed by “Wheel of Fortune.”

But, on Sunday, there I stood in the middle of the paddock, with 15 or 16 of my closest friends and family members, and with the world spinning.

Young, inexperienced 2-year-olds took turns resisting arrest and discipline from their respective handlers. From time to time, each darted backwards into a crowd of people and me. The world spun.

Trainers took turns trying to saddle their youngsters, most of whom had never before witnessed or experienced anything like this. The world spun.

Riders tried their best to get a leg up on their horse before their horse tried to kick a leg into them and buck them into orbit. The world spun.

Then, all of a sudden, I caught a glimpse of Brandon and Hannah Goodwin, and their two sons Reed and Grant standing by the paddock fence, trying their very best to catch a glimpse of our horse — Courageous Clay, who is named after and for their youngest child.

And, all of a sudden, the world can to a stop.

Calmly, I walked over and asked that the four of them could gain access to the paddock and join with our group to celebrate the career debut of our newest horse to race.

Calmly, I introduced the family to our trainer, Robbie Medina, and our assistant trainer, Katey Caddel.

Calmly, I got our rider, Axel Concepcion, to shake hands during a quick greet and meet.

Calmly, I took a second to drop my head and say a prayer for little Clay Goodwin, whom our horse is named for and who is still in hospitalized and receiving daily care for a heart condition that was first discovered upon birth.

And, that was 4 long, difficult and agonizing years ago.

(Clay Goodwin / Facebook Photo From “Courageous Like Clay”)

“Hannah and I can’t tell you enough how much this means to our family,” Brandon Goodwin said, looking me straight in the eye as the horses got their final preps before the race. “This allows our family to get away for a day and enjoy life outside the hospital. But it also gives us hope that Clay will someday be well enough to come and watch his namesake run, too.

“This gives us a little peace.”

As the tears filled up my eyeballs like water dripping into the old Ellis Park water tower, I couldn’t muster a proper response to either ease his pain or better his day. So I gave Brandon and his family  all I knew to give; all I had to give. I gave them a hug.

I gave them a chance to look and lean on Courageous Clay, who was the perfect gentleman in the paddock and stall.

And, I gave Clay that prayer.

Inside my head, I begged God to have mercy on little Clay and give him enough to courage to fight on, and enough love to offer hope. I begged God for healing of any kind that may soothe the souls of the family and little Clay. And, then I begged God, at this very moment in time, to allow the horse named Clay to run his heart out for the heart of the little one who couldn’t and can’t run at all.

Inside my head, I begged for a good race. I did not beg for a win, mind you. I don’t do that. I begged for a good, healthy race. Just a race of promise and hope and something for both the boy and the family to build on; to trust in; to believe with. Just a race that could and would encourage. Just a race by a horse that they all can come to love.

It was a prayer that I will never forget for as long as I live.

Because, on this day, it was a prayer that came true. It was a prayer only God could fulfill.

It was not a total win, just like little Clay who was in the hospital again this day. Yet, it was a win for faith, love and hope. The Greatest of These is Love.

As the horses abandoned the paddock and headed on the main track, my eyes never left Courageous Clay. And, I was amazed at this professionalism and mannerisms.

While many of the other 2YOs acted just like 2YOs, of any kind, Courageous Clay acted like a pro.

He strode side by side with his lead pony and rider like a pro.

He broke off into a jog and then a gallop to warm up for his first race ever — a 1-mile event over the Ellis Park turf — just like a pro.

He joined the line of horses headed to the post position without any assistance from the lead pony or the outright — better than most pros.

He loaded the starting gate without a pause or a stir just like a pro.

And, he calmly stood there and waited patiently for the other misfits to do the same. One minute transpired and then another. A third minute and nearly a fourth. The wait continued. Until they all were loaded into the gate. Just like a pro.

When the starting gate finally did pop open, Courageous Clay popped right out from the #2 stall and went right towards the front. Just like a pro.

Into the first turn, rider Concepcion asked for his young steed to settle and relax. And, he did. Just like a pro.

Down the backside, a group of horses squeezed, bumped and leaned into Courageous Clay, who was close to the rail. But he didn’t seem to care. He ran on. Never hurrying. Never wavering. Just like a pro.

And then, when the leaders reached the final turn and sped into the stretch, rider Concepcion asked our boy to go do his thing. And, he did his thing, right on cue. Just like a pro.

Clay moved up the inside, scraping the rail. For a second, it looked like there was a small opening. It looked, for the world, like Clay had come to terms with the leader Sing Sing.

“Come on, Clay,” I could hear me shouting.

“Come on, Clay,” I could hear Brandon and Hannah shouting.

“Come on, Clay,” I could hear John Pritchett, and Brad Rateike, and Cyndi Smith — all members of McLean Racing — shouting.

“Come on, Clay,” I could hear my beautiful wife shouting.

In unison. As one. From the heart.

But as soon as the small opening seems to have appeared, it closed again. Courageous Clay and Conecepcion had to switch out. The chance for a win had slipped away. The storybook ending had to wait for another day. Another race.

We did hold third, just the same, and we were beaten just 11/4 lengths at odds of nearly 30-to-1. We had defeated the Post Time favorite. We had won a big win in our minds.

We had won a day for little Clay. We had won a little faith, hope and love for little Clay.

And, the celebration between the Goodwin Family and McLean Racing’s family began.

In earnest.

(The families are united)

I don’t think I have ever been more nervous before a horse race than I was on Sunday afternoon at Ellis Park. Never. Ever.

Not before a Stakes race. Not before a Graded Stakes race. Never. Ever.

The mind was going a zillion miles an hour, and I am more wired for the “school zone” max of 25 mph.

But when Courageous Clay returned to his admirer and trainer, Robbie Medina, and assistant trainer, Katey Caddel, the nerves and tears had been turned into joy, and in my mind, my water was turned into wine.

I spoke to Axel, who just loved his ride and his horse. He spoke so glowingly.

I spoke to Katey, who just loves Clay with body and soul. She spoke so glowingly.

I spoke to Robbie, who asked if I was happy. I think the expression told the entire story. “We tried our best to have him ready to go. We know how important this is, too.” His words were glowing.

Then, I spoke to Brandon and Hannah, just one last time.

They were joined by Clay’s pediatric heart doctor, who was holding strong onto her little, blonde-haired daughter.

“I have never been more proud of a horse in my life,” I said. “He gave everything he had. I thought for a second he might get there. But it my mind that is a huge win. I hope you guys feel the same way. I am so proud of him. He fought and gave it all.”

Brandon, stepping forward, gave me a hug. A gentleman’s hug. But a warm one, at that.

“This is amazing,” he said. “We will tell Clay everything about it. We will show him the video. We will tell him this is his horse. Who is just like him. They both are great fighters who never quit. I can’t think of a better story.”

Glowingly.

We still hope and pray that the story has a better ending.

We hope that Courageous Clay gets better, and gets his wins.

Mot of all, though, we hope that Clay, who is the real courageous one, gets better. Much better. Much, much, much better. And, we pray that he gets his wins, too. We pray that he gets to finally come home and be with his brothers and his family. We pray that he gets to play baseball, too, and run around the yard and be a regular little boy. We pray that Clay’s new heart adopts the new body and they truly become one. We pray for healing. We pray for a miracle.

On Sunday, we witnessed the power of family.

On Sunday, we saw first-hand the power of prayer.

On Sunday, we may not have finished first, but we won the first part of our race for both horse and boy.

On Sunday, we learned — again — that we want to win life’s race for the boy and horse that bears his amazing name and spunk.

The horse ran glowingly.

The Goodwin’s faces glowed.

McLean Racing Club members hugged, cheered and high-fived.

Their family had grown by about 10.

Our family had grown by four, which we hope soon will be 5.

And that, my friends, is why I own a racehorse.

(Our own Paul Moring and family created this AI image, which may become our team logo)