Constitution Hill

My name is Constitution Hill, and everyone’s been talking about me.

I was a ‘champion hurdler’, until I wasn’t. I won here at Cheltenham in 2023, but last year I fell and I kept on falling. 

They said I’d lost my nerve after I first fell here last year. They were right. I was scared of the jumps, scared of falling and getting hurt. I didn’t want to do it again, but they made me. I hated it, and it showed. 

Three times I crashed onto my head last year, and the crowd roared. I can hear them again today. They’ve brought me back to where it first happened. Today I’m back here because, finally, they’ve decided not to force me to jump again. It would be a bad look for their ‘sport’ if I fell again. So, I’m back here to be paraded around in some kind of sick farewell to the place that hurt me. A place that will almost certainly hurt other horses like me today. 

What’s worse is that they’re telling me I’m lucky, because I ‘get to have a second career’ on flat courses. When do I get to live a life not governed by how fast I can go? When do I get to feel the wind in my mane without feeling the whip at my side? When do I get to stand in a field with the sun on my face, surrounded by my herd. When do I get to not be a ‘racehorse’ anymore, but just be a horse? 

My name is Constitution Hill. I am someone.