I've always just said I'm a horse trainer that happens to be female
On the first Saturday of May 2026, a quiet barrier fell at Churchill Downs when Cherie DeVaux became the first woman in the Kentucky Derby's long history to train its winner. Her colt, Golden Tempo, came from behind to claim the roses — much as DeVaux herself had come from an unlikely beginning in pre-med studies to find her calling in the barn. In a sport where women have rarely been permitted to shape the outcome, her name now rests permanently in the record books, a small but consequential reordering of who belongs at the highest levels of American racing.
- Golden Tempo broke from last place and surged through the field in the final stretch, mirroring his trainer's own improbable rise from obscurity.
- DeVaux entered a sport where only seventeen women before her had ever trained a Derby entrant — and none had ever won — making her victory a rupture in a century-old pattern.
- She deflects the historic weight with quiet pragmatism, describing herself simply as 'a horse trainer that happens to be female,' even as the magnitude of the moment continues to settle over her.
- Her path — pre-med student to physical therapist hopeful to independent trainer — took eight years to arrive here, and she draws an explicit parallel between her slow start and her horse's late charge.
- The next question, the Preakness on May 16, is one she refuses to answer for herself: she says the decision belongs to Golden Tempo, a posture that reveals as much about her philosophy as her history.
Cherie DeVaux stood in the Churchill Downs winner's circle on Saturday having done something no woman had ever done: trained a Kentucky Derby champion. Golden Tempo, a bay colt who spent much of the race at the back of the field, found another gear in the final stretch and carried her name into history.
Speaking with CBS News two days later, DeVaux was still absorbing the moment. She described herself simply as a horse trainer who happens to be female — a phrase that balanced modesty with an awareness of what she had just broken open. Only seventeen women before her had ever trained a Derby entrant in the race's entire history. Now one of them had won it.
Her road there was circuitous. She had studied pre-med in college with plans toward physical therapy, but horses had been her constant. The math was practical: she needed a life that could afford them. She began by exercising horses, then training them, and eight years ago — after meeting her husband — she struck out on her own. The first three years were slow, she said, and she saw in Golden Tempo's late surge a reflection of her own difficult beginning.
What moved her most was not the record itself but its reach. She spoke of the honor of becoming someone young women and girls could look up to, of hoping her name in the Derby books might signal to them that the sport's highest levels were not closed. Women remain underrepresented in professional racing, and she couldn't fully account for why — only express the hope that this might shift something.
As for the Preakness on May 16, DeVaux was unhurried. Whether Golden Tempo would run, she said, was not her decision to make. It was up to him.
Cherie DeVaux stood in the winner's circle at Churchill Downs on Saturday with a distinction that no woman before her had earned: she had trained the Kentucky Derby champion. Golden Tempo, a bay colt who had trailed the field early in the race before mounting a late surge to the finish line, carried her name into the record books as the first Derby winner ever saddled by a female trainer.
When CBS News spoke with her the following Monday, DeVaux was still processing what the moment meant. "I've always just said I'm a horse trainer that happens to be female," she told the network, a statement that seemed to capture both her matter-of-factness and the weight of what she had accomplished. In the long history of American horse racing's most prestigious event, only seventeen other women had ever trained a horse entered in the Derby. The most recent had been in 2021. Now one of them had won it.
DeVaux's path to the winner's circle was anything but straightforward. In college, she had been pre-med, studying to become a physical therapist. The shift came from a practical concern: she wanted a life that could accommodate her lifelong love of horses, and she knew that passion required money. "I wanted to have a life that afforded horses 'cause they're not cheap," she said. She had ridden since childhood, but eventually her work with horses evolved into exercising them, then training them. Eight years ago, after meeting her husband, she made the leap to training on her own. "This kind of just happened, this wasn't a linear journey," she reflected.
Those first three years as an independent trainer were slow. She was building something from nothing, learning as she went. The parallel to Golden Tempo's own race was not lost on her. The colt had started in last place, seemingly out of contention, before finding another gear down the stretch. "The first three years were really slow to get started, kind of like Golden Tempo," she said, drawing the connection between her own early struggles and the horse's dramatic late run.
What struck DeVaux most about her historic win was not the record itself, but what it might mean for others. "It's an honor, honestly, to just be that person that other women, young girls can look up to," she said. She was acutely aware that women remained underrepresented in professional horse racing, though she couldn't fully explain why. Her hope was that her name in the Derby record book might change that calculus, might show young women that the sport's highest levels were not closed to them.
As for what came next, DeVaux was characteristically unhurried. The Preakness, the second leg of the Triple Crown, was scheduled for May 16. Whether Golden Tempo would run in it was, she said, not her call to make. "It's up to him," she said simply. The decision belonged to the horse.
Citas Notables
It's an honor to be that person that other women, young girls can look up to. We are underrepresented in the industry, and I'm not sure why, but hopefully that changes.— Cherie DeVaux
The first three years were really slow to get started, kind of like Golden Tempo.— Cherie DeVaux, on her early years as an independent trainer
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
You trained the first Kentucky Derby winner as a woman. How does that feel different from any other win you've had?
It's strange, because I don't think of myself differently. But I know it matters to people, and that matters to me. The weight of it is in what it might open up for others.
You were pre-med in college. What made you walk away from that path?
Horses were always there. But I needed to eat, and I needed to afford them. Physical therapy felt like a way to have both. Then life just shifted—I started working with horses more directly, and I realized I couldn't imagine doing anything else.
Your first three years training independently were slow. Did you ever think about quitting?
You have to believe something is possible before you see it happen. I was building something. It wasn't glamorous, but it was mine.
Golden Tempo was in last place early in the Derby. Did that mirror anything in your own story?
That's exactly why I felt it so deeply. He came from nowhere. I came from nowhere in this sport. You don't have to start in front to finish there.
Only seventeen other women have trained Derby horses in the entire history of the race. Why do you think that is?
I honestly don't know. But I know it's not because women can't do this work. Maybe it's just visibility. Maybe now they'll see it's possible.