MIDAIR, U.S.A. - As a child, I lived and breathed racing. I printed out Blood-Horse articles and kept them in a scrapbook (along with illustrations by PEB and photos of determined runners). I collected issues of the Daily Racing Form like a 79-year-old handicapper. I commandeered the television on Breeders' Cup and Triple Crown days. The obsession was strong. Later, when I worked to make Turf writing my actual career, as opportunities came my way and doors opened before my eyes, I was thrilled. I attended my first Breeders' Cup (don't laugh) at Belmont Park in 2005. I was a rookie, green as grass, and I didn't write much. I just wandered wide-eyed around the place for the entire weekend, thinking if I could do this for the rest of my life, I'd be happy. Gradually, horse racing became an actual part of me, and I became a part of it. My idolization of the sport came to be tempered by realism. Of course, I'd grown up in the meantime. Maybe my idealistic view was tempered by maturity. That's life. I'm no Pollyanna. I recognize this sport's many flaws. But I also love it just as much as I did back when I was a kid parked in front of the TV, watching the runners turn for home in race after race after race on the Breeders' Cup card, rooting for my favorites, cheering when they won. So here I am, flight to California, week-long stint with the notes team ahead. Tomorrow morning I'll be checking in from Santa Anita. While I'm walking the barns for the Breeders' Cup and pounding out features for the main site here, this blog will serve as a venue for reflections upon the experience. I cover these events with awareness, but also with gratitude, because I've been given the chance to become part of a world I once only dreamed of. It is an imperfect world, yes, but one I embrace wholeheartedly. I hope that passion for the sport comes across in my writing. I like to think, sometimes, it does.