Of course, nobody forces a trainer to pay out of pocket. Some trainers are strictly "nine-to-five," covering everything with the provided budget and never spending a dime of their own. On the flip side, there are legendary stories of veteran trainers taking their team out for a "celebration dinner" and watching two months' worth of salary vanish into the girls' bottomless stomachs.
Then there are the married trainers. They tend to be the most fiscally responsible. They view training as a job and prioritize their families, refusing to spend personal wealth on their athletes.
I've heard horror stories of married trainers who did spend their own money, only to be confronted by their wives: "Who's more important, the Umamusume or your family?!" Given that Umamusume are, by nature, quite beautiful, more than one trainer's household has reportedly devolved into a domestic crisis over suspected infidelity.
These financial pressures are part of why some trainers are so quick to "cut ties" with a girl who isn't showing results. It's a cold reality of the business.
In that regard, being a single guy with only one trainee is a blessing. I can dump every cent I have into Urara's growth without anyone nagging me. And if she gets stronger, she places higher in Open and Graded races, which brings in even more money.
It's a Win-Win. If she wants a snack, I buy it. If she wants carrots, I buy them. If I make her carrot-steaks, it's an investment in the future.
By the way, it's standard practice to make the Umamusume save the bulk of her winnings. No matter how strong they are, retirement comes for everyone. A sudden injury can end a career in a heartbeat. Having a nest egg gives them choices for their second life. It's part of my job to make sure she doesn't blow it all. So, if she asks for a treat and I pay for it myself instead of letting her use her savings... well, I'm just being a responsible professional.
I finished my report with that convenient excuse and hit "Save."
Since the Maiden win a week ago, I had kept Urara on a light "cooldown" menu. Her performance had been spectacular, but because she'd pushed beyond her usual limits, I was worried about the physical toll.
Urara is remarkably sturdy—tougher than most, I'd wager—but "sturdy" isn't "invincible." Being smaller than average, her total stamina pool is also a concern. I spent a week confirming she was injury-free, then spent the next week gradually ramping the intensity back up. My report today concluded that she was officially back to 100%.
Because I was leaning toward the "Mile" transition, I had time to be deliberate. If we stayed with Sprints, we had a Pre-Open in early December (the Kantsubaki Sho) or an Open in January. But for the Mile, I planned to spend the rest of the year purely on base-building and adjustment.
The Mile would demand a level of stamina we hadn't touched yet.
The longest distance she'd run so far was 1,300m at Tokyo. A Mile is 1,600m at minimum, but some "Mile" category races stretch to 1,900m.
In her Fukushima race, she only ran 1,150m. Jumping to 1,900m is nearly double the distance. And you can't just "double the stamina" and call it a day. Racing doesn't work that way.
The longer the distance, the more the strategy shifts. The timing of the final spurt changes. A longer race means more time for mental chess with the other runners. It's a drain on the mind as much as the body. She needed "reserve" stamina, and she needed to learn how to "save her legs" for the finish—techniques I'd only touched on before.
From here on out, every opponent she faced would be a winner. She'd be running against girls who had tasted victory in their Debuts or Maidens. She might even face multi-race winners or girls with Graded Stakes titles.
But the way she won that Maiden race... that record-breaking time. If she could replicate that over a Mile, I knew she could hold her own.