 
MIHO TRAINING CENTER
Where the finest
get on the fast track
Text by ERIC PRIDEAUX
Photo by YOSHIAKI MIURA
Imagine, just for a moment, that you
are a horse.
Not a
police horse, head slung low as you march across the
unforgiving asphalt, or a four-legged laborer at some
local riding club where stalls are rarely cleaned. No,
you are a sleek young racehorse with a list of victories
to your good name. In your stellar career, you've already
won your owners hundreds of millions of yen in prize
money. Why, you're probably the Derby favorite this year.
With a record like that,
chances are you've spent time at the luxurious Miho
Training Center in Ibaraki Prefecture -- at more than 2
sq. km, Japan's largest training facility for racehorses
and the proving grounds for some of the country's, and
the world's, finest steeds. Every aspect of Miho is
designed with the welfare of the animals in mind. All
pretending aside, this is the kind of place most horses
could only dream of.
For example, the eight
training courses are given extra bounce to reduce wear
and tear on horses' legs. At Miho's periphery, recorded
birdsong warbles forth from speakers along a verdant
walking path -- tapes are even switched to match the
season. Parched horses can quench their thirst at a
scenic waterfall nearby. Aside from the rolling pastures
of Hokkaido, where the vast majority of Japanese
racehorses are bred, this is as close to equine heaven as
it gets.
"It's definitely the
best I've ever worked at," said Lisa Mumby, 26, a
New Zealand jockey who has herself trained and ridden
throughout Asia. "They look after the horse and
treat it like an animal with feelings."
For a long time, Japanese
racehorses lived at the tracks, a custom still common in
many racing countries. But things didn't work out.
Urbanization in the postwar era brought humans and horses
uncomfortably close as residential communities sprang up
near the tracks, said Kiyohito Terauchi, a spokesman for
the state-affiliated Japan Racing Association, the agency
that oversees Miho. Each side considered the other
something of a nuisance. Pollution from cars and buses
bothered the sensitive horses. And noble though they may
be, horses aren't particularly fragrant animals. Terauchi
puts it more bluntly. "Stink became an issue."
Breathing space
So the JRA built two enormous training
complexes -- "in the middle of nowhere," as
Terauchi says -- where horses from around the country
would be sent to train before races at the 10 JRA tracks
across Japan. The first center was constructed in 1969 in
the western city of Ritto, near Kyoto, and the larger one
at Miho went up in 1978. The relocation gave horses more
breathing space, and the centralized operations made it
easier for the JRA to monitor training and hygiene.
Today, Miho and Ritto each
house about 2,000 horses at any given time and are
considered roughly equal in terms of training. Mostly
owned by wealthy individuals or racing clubs, the average
horse costs around 10 million yen, but here and there are
champions worth as much as 20 times more.
Newer features at Miho, like
the 60-meter indoor swimming pool added in 1991, allow
even injured horses to stay fit in style. And if, after a
dip, winter winds cast a chill, it's no problem. Horses
dry off under a hot-air fan before returning to their
stalls. Occasionally a bather -- muzzle poking above the
water's surface, legs paddling furiously below -- will
panic with hydrophobia, so to calm horses and help
prevent drowning, soothing Baroque music is played over
the P.A. system.
Horses with serious injuries
or illnesses, of course, require inpatient care, and the
hospital that serves them bears comparison with any for
humans. Everything here, however, is on a much larger
scale. A grown man can fit his forearm into one of the
equine nebulizer masks, and you could park a forklift on
the X-ray platform.
Miho horses are coddled even
in the hereafter. At a picturesque grove between racing
tracks, horse-lovers place oats, carrots and sugar before
a shrine honoring the souls of late contenders. Among the
names inscribed on a cluster of funerary tablets: Silk
Rapture, Future Heroine and Epsom Mambo -- who must have
made beautiful music on the track.
No matter how impressive the
amenities at Miho, any of the 5,000 people who work there
will tell you the real key to raising a good horse is to
understand its character, to become its friend.
"We watch whether the
horse is timid or if it adjusts well. And whether we can
push it hard in training," says up-and-coming
trainer Nobuhiro Suzuki. "It's just like training a
human athlete."
Building the relationship is
a round-the-clock job shared between the trainer, his
staff and the jockey. Late sleepers needn't apply. The
workday starts as early as 3 a.m. in summer, when grooms
check horses' joints for injury, take body temperatures
and fork out soiled straw from each stall. Assistant
trainers and jockeys then mount their charges, warm up,
and by 5 a.m. they're heading for some runs up the
inclined training slope.
After that it's time for the
day's climax, power sprints down at the main track to
build muscle and endurance. This is where colts and
fillies with star quality get to show it off. Manes
flapping like battle standards, jockeys crouched atop
them, packs of horses tear up the dirt toward the finish
line as trainers peer through binoculars from the
bleachers. Sports reporters jot down running times that,
hours later, fill the sports papers. In the afternoon,
there's more training, watering at 8 p.m. and then it's
quitting time.
Hazards of the trade
Not a bad life, considering all the
fresh air and exercise. But working with horses has its
disadvantages, chief among them the danger of handling an
animal that weighs 450 kg, about nine times more than the
average jockey. A wise groom learns how to dodge a
"love bite" or a potentially lethal hind-leg
kick. Jockeys, meanwhile, try to block out thoughts of
being thrown during a race and trampled underhoof.
"Sometimes you're in
town and you hear an ambulance go by. You can bet it's
headed to the training center," said Hiroki
Hashimoto, a 30-year-old jockey who himself has felt the
force of more than a few hooves.
But such hazards are just
part of the trade, and the folks at Miho prefer to look
on the brighter side of the relationship between human
and beast. "Horses and people work together. We make
money together," said Hashimoto. "It's thanks
to horses that people like us can make a living."
The Japan Times: May 12, 2002
(C) All rights reserved
This story originally
appeared in a Japan Times package on horse racing:
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