Here’s a full 900-word narrative expanding on Ron Turcotte’s first impressions and early experiences with Secretariat, weaving in the backstory, context, and foreshadowing of what was to come.
A First Glimpse of a Legend in Waiting
Ron Turcotte’s memory of first seeing Secretariat at Hialeah Park in Florida is etched in crystal clarity. It was the winter after the holidays, and Turcotte—fresh from his hometown in New Brunswick, Canada—was returning to the familiar hum of the racetrack. As he walked down the shedrow, past stalls filled with hopeful young Thoroughbreds, his eyes landed on a striking chestnut colt.
“I asked Mr. Laurin, ‘Who is this pretty boy?’” Turcotte recounted years later, referring to trainer Lucien Laurin, the French-Canadian horseman with a keen eye for talent. Laurin chuckled at the question. Yes, the colt’s breeding was impeccable—sired by Bold Ruler and out of Somethingroyal—a pedigree that combined speed with stamina. But Laurin joked that the youngster might be too handsome for his own good, as if beauty might blunt competitive edge.
Still, the sight of Secretariat was unlike anything Turcotte had encountered. His coat glowed a deep reddish copper, almost luminous under the dim shedrow light. His blaze was wide and distinctive, his conformation near flawless. Every proportion—the length of his back, the set of his neck, the strength of his hindquarters—spoke of power waiting to be unleashed. He carried himself with a calm, statuesque presence that seemed more fitting for a seasoned champion than a green two-year-old.
First Ride: The Gentle Giant
Two days after that first encounter, Turcotte swung into the saddle to exercise Secretariat for the first time. Expecting the high-strung nerves typical of young racehorses, he was met instead with an unusual composure.
“He was gentle and calm, not like most two-year-olds,” Turcotte said. “Big and a bit clumsy, but he felt like a giant riding pony.”
The colt’s size was already remarkable for his age, his stride long and easy, though his coordination was still catching up to his frame. Turcotte noticed that Secretariat wasn’t inclined to fight the bit or waste energy; instead, he moved with a natural rhythm, saving his power. The jockey sensed potential—but potential that needed time to bloom.
A Slow Start in Learning the Game
Secretariat’s earliest lessons on the track were not immediately dazzling. In one of his first official workouts, Laurin paired him with three other two-year-olds, including Gold Bag, a colt who had already shown promise as a stakes winner.
To everyone’s surprise—especially Turcotte’s—Secretariat trailed far behind the group. “He didn’t know what to do,” Turcotte remembered. The big chestnut seemed uncertain about his role, as though he hadn’t yet connected the act of running with the purpose of competing. He ambled along, powerful but disengaged, letting the others dictate the pace and the finish.
For a horse destined to rewrite history, it was a humble beginning.
The Moment It Clicked
The transformation, when it came, was sudden. In subsequent gallops and breezes, Secretariat began to understand the nature of the game. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps the competitive spark buried deep in his bloodlines, but the colt began stretching out his stride, pulling himself alongside his workmates, and then—effortlessly—past them.
“He figured it out quick,” Turcotte said. “Once he understood, he didn’t just keep up—he dominated.”
The calm demeanor remained, but now it was paired with a new confidence. Secretariat seemed to relish running, not out of anxiety or fear, but from a pure, internal drive. His gallops grew stronger, his breezes sharper. Trainers and exercise riders began to notice that when Secretariat passed another horse, he didn’t just go by—he swept past with authority, ears pricked, as if daring them to try and catch him.
Lucien Laurin’s Changing Tune
Laurin’s early half-joking skepticism faded as quickly as Secretariat’s learning curve improved. The trainer, who had a lifetime of horses behind him, began to speak of the colt in more serious tones. Laurin still guarded against hype—after all, many a well-bred two-year-old had flattered early only to disappoint later—but the signs were undeniable.
The big chestnut had a smooth, ground-devouring stride that seemed almost effortless. His heart and lung capacity, though not yet measured, were clearly exceptional—he could breeze and come back barely blowing. And perhaps most tellingly, his mental attitude was perfect for racing: he was competitive without being rank, intelligent without being lazy.
The Building Foundation
As winter training turned to spring, Secretariat’s progress continued. Turcotte and Laurin worked together to refine his balance and improve his break from the gate. The colt was still growing into his massive frame, but each week he seemed to handle his body with more coordination.
The early laggard in workouts was now the benchmark against which Laurin tested other prospects. A breeze against Secretariat became a measuring stick: if another colt could hold with him even for part of a workout, that horse was considered stakes-caliber.
Why the Early Struggles Mattered
In hindsight, those first uncertain steps were a blessing. Secretariat’s initial confusion in workouts meant he wasn’t pushed too hard, too early. His body had time to mature, his joints and muscles strengthening before serious demands were made of them. It also meant that when the competitive instinct awoke, it did so naturally—without force, without souring him.
That combination—patience from the trainer, natural mental composure from the horse—would serve Secretariat throughout his career. He never became a horse who fought the rider or wasted energy; instead, he poured everything into the decisive moments of a race.
Foreshadowing Greatness
Looking back, Turcotte could pinpoint those early days at Hialeah as the foundation of the legend that was to come. The first impression—of a beautiful, almost regal colt—wasn’t misleading. Laurin’s playful warning about looks masking substance would be turned on its head. Secretariat’s beauty was not a distraction; it was simply the outward expression of an inner perfection that extended to bone, muscle, and spirit.
The memory of that slow, aimless first workout became almost comical in light of what followed: the 1973 Triple Crown, the 31-length Belmont Stakes, and a record-shattering career that cemented Secretariat as one of the greatest athletes of the 20th century.
Epilogue: A Bond Forged Early
For Turcotte, the relationship with Secretariat was more than just rider and mount. It was a bond forged in those early mornings at Hialeah—the quiet walks to the track, the first gallops, the patient learning. By the time the colt stepped into the starting gate for his first race, they were a team, each trusting the other.
That trust, built on gentleness, intelligence, and shared experience, became the bedrock of Secretariat’s racing dominance. The “pretty boy” in the stall had grown into a phenomenon, but for Turcotte, he was always the same horse he first met in that Florida shedrow—calm, kind, and destined for greatness.
If you’d like, I can also do a follow-up covering Secretariat’s entire 2-year-old campaign to show exactly how quickly things changed after that first slow workout. That would connect this “origin story” directly into the start of his legend.
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