It is 4 a.m. and the trainer is already leaving his home to go to the stables to feed the horses. He mixes various ingredients so that his charges are alert, bright-eyed, bushy- tailed and well-fed winners! At 6 a.m. he is riding and timing each of his charges.

My gelding is racing today. He had drawn the third position and is looking good. My husband and I leave for the track at 11:30. The black beauty is in the third race and the odds are high on him since his first start for me resulted in a last place finish. I am proud to be a horse owner and as a result let everyone around me know that I own a horse in the third race. They all look at me as though I'm a kook because they can see the odds as well as I and wonder how anyone could be proud of the long-shot.

Not one of the track betting papers picked him for anything. Deep down in my soul I could not believe that my third son (the horse) could be as bad as everyone thought. My husband and I bet $15 across the board on him. Understand, I am not really a gambler; in fact, most of the time I split a $2 bet.

It was time for the horses to come onto the track for the third race. The trainer's wife, who works as hard as her husband with the horses, has braided the horse's mane and part of his tail. He looks smashing -- the best-looking animal on the track. I make some of the people around me admit that, but they still aren't putting any money on him on my say-so. Believe me, the owner has no inside track on whether their horse is going to win or not.

I ask my trainer prior to the race what his gut feeling is and he always tells me the same thing, "Lookin' good!" What does that mean? Of course he is looking good -- the best -- BUT is this best-looking horse going to make me some money and should I put more money on him? The Lord only knows, certainly not me.

They finally get to the post and are off! I can't really tell where he is -- all the horses are in a bunch -- but finally I can see his yellow bridle and blinders, and guess what! He's in first place, not by much but running his little old legs off.

"Keep it up, horse," as I start to pound on my husband. He's trying to get away from me (my husband, that is) because he knows that this horse starts in first place but finishes last. I'm screaming so loud I become an embarrassment to him. Do I care? Hell, no. My horse is still in first place.

They come around the last turn and the crowd comes to life. There is a loud roar that continues and -- stupid me -- I'm wondering why. Of course, he's the long-shot and a lot of people impulsively bet on that particular horse hoping to make a killing (or at least a few bucks). What a phenomenon -- my horse pulls four lengths ahead of his nearest competitor and actually WINS! I am supremely happy and keep telling those fools around me that I told them so. As if I knew -- what a joke!

At that point I got dragged by my husband and the trainer a quarter of the way around the track to what is known as the winner's circle. I am a grandmother -- not ancient -- but not able to run that distance, either. This was my first encounter with that most envied spot and truly I enjoyed it even though I was totally disheveled from being pulled. So what?

I was so crazy I ordered pictures for everyone there. No one told me that each picture was twenty dollars. Oh well, how many times can you win? If it happens again all these people can pay for their own pictures. Spoil sport, sure, but loving every winning moment of it!