When Verema walked out into the mounting yard prior to last year’s Melbourne Cup, I felt as if someone had hit me in the stomach. Watching the broadcast at a barbecue with family and friends, I had drawn Verema in the sweep. I quipped that I was out of the running, while trying to hide my angst. I could not help but see concerns in her body and her movement, and pointed these out to friends who asked what I had meant. I was shocked when I learned her real age – she looked older to me; battle weary.

The feeling of dread grew as I lost sight of her in the field. Eventually, my fears were confirmed. She had broken her leg and was euthanised on the track.

When I heard the news on the radio this morning, I felt sick. Only yesterday, we learned that jockey Carly-Mae Pye had died following a horrific fall when her mount broke both front legs. Today, we learn that another young life has been lost, after Caitlin Forrest’s ride also suffered a catastrophic injury and caused three other horses to fall. By all reports, these two young women were talented horsewomen, held in high regard and loved dearly by their peers.

At what point will we cease to accept these tragedies as par for the course?

When a horse suffers a catastrophic injury, we say it has “broken down”, words we normally use for a machine. When a jockey dies on the track in such circumstances, it is a shocking tragedy. An unexpected loss of somebody’s somebody. When they manage to escape injured or unscathed, we talk about it even less.

When will we start demanding answers to the questions of why and how? When will we begin to scrutinise all of the factors that contribute to a horse’s soundness and safety on the track?

It is about more than the checks and measures already in place on race day and during investigations. Who takes responsibility when horses that have been bred for speed over soundness pose a serious safety risk to the people paid to ride them? Who takes responsibility when a horse that is less than perfect or has niggling minor soundness issues turns out to be a ticking time bomb?

Part of the problem lies in what we consider to be sound enough to race. These horses are operating at the upper levels of their physical capacity. They have usually been doing so long before they are skeletally mature. They don’t need to be visibly lame to be compromised. And herein lies the rub.

We do not look far enough beyond the obvious problems, to identify the tiny alterations and inherent weaknesses that may bring these horses undone. Put a horse in front of fifty different vets, trainers, farriers and bodyworkers, and you will get fifty different answers about what they see. Take the same number of researchers into a post-mortem examination, and I’d bet that most of them would be able to identify something the rest did not pick up.

The frustration that arises time and time again amongst my colleagues and mentors in the equine health industry, is that we are so used to seeing unsound horses, that we no longer know what a sound horse should look like. Our benchmark for soundness is far, far too low. This is just as true throughout the wider horse industry as it is in the racing industry. However, it is the racehorses that are stretched to their physical limits, therefore posing the greatest risk.

Catastrophic injuries might seem to occur out of the blue, but there is always a reason, be it the soundness of the horse, the circumstances surrounding the incident, or a combination of factors. The answers may or may not be found through investigation or post-mortem examination, but we should always look beyond the most convenient explanation when there is any niggling doubt.

I see so many problems that are not being identified, let alone addressed, in the racing, non-racing and post-racing horses around me. What I saw in that mounting yard footage last year, was a horse so biomechanically compromised that I could not believe she was running. These horses need to be caught way, way before they approach the threshold of falling to pieces on the track or in training. We need to stop settling for the bleeding obvious answers and start paying much closer attention to the subclinical alterations to every aspect of each horse’s health.

It should be evident from the discussions in recent weeks that many of those involved in the racing industry are there because they love horses. But ultimately, money and PR talks. Perhaps more of it should be devoted to educating those who work closest with these horses to see and notice more in their bodies and their movement. And then, perhaps we should turn to the official bodies and power players and demand that they lift their standards. Perhaps we should also turn to the breeders and put the onus on them to stop perpetuating conformational faults and predispositions to soundness issues so that less of these time bombs make it to the track in the first place.

I am not affiliated with any racing or anti-racing bodies. I love the thoroughbred breed as an equestrian owner and rider. I have seen both sides of the post-racing industry coin, some of my horses succeeding in finding a purpose, some succumbing to the impact of soundness issues on their quality of life. In my work and study, I see what occurs in their bodies first-hand, both on the surface and deep under the skin.

But I am not someone the powers that be in the racing industry are likely to listen to. So it lifts my hopes to see that in the wake of these tragedies, major trainers and jockeys are coming forward to call for “drastic change” in vetting standards, with safety as the first priority. Paying lip service to safety and horse health is not enough. Nor is relying on safety equipment when the horses themselves may be the biggest risk.

It is high time the industry listened – every member who stands in a role of responsibility or regulation, every member who has ever pressured a rider to get on an unsound horse, every health professional who reaches for the quick fix instead of facing the hard facts.

If not for the horses who die on the track or fail to make the grade, then for the humans who put their lives on the line every time they sit on them, and for the loved ones left behind when it all goes hideously, heartbreakingly wrong.