She Came to Win, Not to Make History — But She Did Both

For 152 years, no woman had ever trained the winning horse at the Kentucky Derby. Dozens had tried. Seventeen women had saddled horses at Churchill Downs and watched their dreams fall just short. The sport had long been dominated by men — in the saddle, in the barn, and in the winner's circle. But on May 2, 2026, in front of a roaring crowd of over 150,000 people in Louisville, Kentucky, all of that changed. A 44-year-old trainer named Cherie DeVaux and a long shot horse named Golden Tempo did something that had never been done before, and they did it in the most dramatic, heart-stopping fashion imaginable.

Cherie DeVaux did not grow up dreaming of breaking records. She grew up in Saratoga Springs, New York, one of the most storied horse racing towns in America, surrounded by the sport from the very beginning. She learned the craft from the ground up, starting her career over two decades ago as a bright-eyed exercise rider at Churchill Downs — the very same track where she would one day make history. She once considered becoming a physician, but the pull of horse racing was simply too strong. She chose the barn over the classroom, the track over the hospital, and she never looked back. It was a decision that would define her entire life.

Building a training career from scratch is not glamorous work. It is early mornings, long days, difficult horses, and years of grinding away in a sport that does not always reward patience. But DeVaux put in the work, race by race, barn by barn, accumulating over 300 victories throughout her career. By the time the 2026 Kentucky Derby arrived, she had already notched 21 wins that calendar year alone. She was not a newcomer. She was not lucky. She was simply very, very good — and finally, the sport's biggest stage was about to prove it to the entire world.

Golden Tempo was not supposed to win. Let that sink in for a moment. The horse entered the 152nd Run for the Roses at odds of 23-1, considered by most experts to be little more than a hopeful underdog in a field dominated by bigger names and stronger favorites. Golden Tempo had shown flashes of brilliance in earlier races — solid performances in the Louisiana Derby and the Risen Star Stakes — but nobody was putting serious money on him to capture the roses. He was the son of the legendary two-time Horse of the Year Curlin, which gave him royal bloodlines, but bloodlines alone do not win horse races. Heart does.

And heart is exactly what Golden Tempo showed on that Saturday afternoon. Jockey Jose Ortiz climbed into the saddle, and from the very first moments of the race, things did not look promising. Golden Tempo broke slowly. As the field thundered around the track, he found himself in dead last — nineteenth out of nineteen horses. The crowd was not watching him. The cameras were not focused on him. The commentators were talking about the favorites up front. Golden Tempo was, for all intents and purposes, invisible.

Then came the stretch run. Then came the moment that no one who was watching will ever forget.

As the horses entered the final turn, something extraordinary began to happen. Ortiz guided Golden Tempo wide, found open ground, and the horse simply exploded. He began picking off horse after horse with a ferocious, breathtaking burst of speed that looked almost supernatural. The crowd began to stir. The commentators began to shout. And then, in the final moments, Golden Tempo swept past Renegade — the 5-1 favorite ridden by none other than Ortiz's own brother, Irad Ortiz Jr. — and crossed the finish line first, winning by a neck in a finish that will go down as one of the most thrilling in Derby history. The winning time was 2:02.27. The winner's circle had a new champion. And horse racing had a new piece of history.

In the barn, in the stands, and in front of millions watching on television, Cherie DeVaux was overcome with emotion. The woman who had spent 22 years working toward this moment could barely find the words. She praised her jockey. She praised her horse. She spoke about faith — the kind of faith that keeps you going when the odds are stacked against you, when no one believes the long shot can do it, and when the whole world seems to be looking somewhere else. Jose Ortiz had believed in Golden Tempo when it would have been easy to doubt. DeVaux had believed in herself when the sport gave her every reason to feel like an outsider.

What made the finish even more extraordinary was the family drama quietly playing out in the saddle. Jose Ortiz, riding Golden Tempo, crossed the finish line first. His brother Irad Ortiz Jr., riding Renegade, finished second. Two brothers. Two horses. First and second at the Kentucky Derby. Jose, ever the gracious champion, acknowledged his brother's incredible ride but made one thing perfectly clear — that day belonged to him and Golden Tempo.

Cherie DeVaux became, in that moment, only the second woman in history to train the winner of a Triple Crown race, joining Jena Antonucci in that exclusive company. She was just the eighteenth woman to ever saddle a horse at the Kentucky Derby in its 152-year history, and the first to leave with the trophy. In her post-race press conference, she said something that cut straight to the heart of what she had accomplished. She said she was glad she did not have to answer the question anymore — the question of whether a woman could win the Kentucky Derby. Now everyone had their answer.

But perhaps the most powerful thing DeVaux said came when she described a moment earlier in the week when she spotted a young girl on the backstretch of Churchill Downs and suddenly felt the full weight of what she was about to attempt. In that moment, it stopped being just about her career or her horse. It became about every little girl who had ever dreamed of working in a sport that told her she did not belong. DeVaux had spent years insisting that her gender never crossed her mind — that she simply focused on training horses and winning races. But standing in front of cameras and crowds after the biggest victory of her life, she allowed herself to feel the magnitude of it all. She said she was glad to be a representative of women everywhere. She said that women can do anything they set their minds to. And on May 2, 2026, at Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky, she proved it beyond any doubt.

The question now hanging over the sport is whether Golden Tempo will run in the Preakness Stakes on May 16 and take a shot at the Triple Crown. DeVaux has been characteristically thoughtful about the decision, refusing to commit and insisting that the horse himself will make the call. She will watch how Golden Tempo recovers in the days after the Derby, and she will listen to what he tells her through his behavior, his energy, and his health. Because for Cherie DeVaux, the horse always comes first. Not the glory, not the records, not the legacy. The horse That alone tells you everything you need to know about the kind of trainer — and the kind of person — she truly is.