Post by bailey on Jul 24, 2012 10:57:17 GMT -5
"Easy kiddo." It was a warm day, even being six in the morning when she set out on the track, sitting atop the first of her four rides that day. The colt Soaring pranced beneath her-- he felt like a ticking time bomb, legs springing off the track as Bailey attempted to keep him in a walk. Wings was never tough to control, but he always let you know that he was excited to run. It was the tall black two year old's life! Bailey let him stride into a trot with little encouragement as they made their way clockwise around the track. He chomped at the bit with anticipation, head nodding excessively. He wanted to go; for Bailey to loosen her grip on the reins and for him to let loose on the open expanse of dirt before her. But, not yet. She wouldn't let the spitfire of a colt take a risk like running too early. Wings had good legs, solid bones and long canons that supported him well, and Bailey didn't want to take a chance on injuring him in any way.
Finally she let the colt canter. His neck arched against her, the figure eight nose band keeping his jaws clamped closed-- otherwise his tongue would be over the bit and they'd have galloped into the next century by now. His stride was long, and breathing steady as they rounded the clubhouse turn on the right lead. Only a stretch to go and Soaring would be allowed to gallop. He'd shown a fondness for distance runs, which made sense. If you let Wings go, the only real problem you had was getting him to stop after he hit the finish line. But today was a workout, and he wouldn't be allowed to run as if he were racing. Just a simple breeze over three furlongs.
Slowly and carefully Bailey brought the protesting colt back down to a trot, before letting him turn. He knew what was happening now. He clung to the rail, muscles tense beneath his paper thin skin. A smile crept to Bailey's lips. This was the feeling she lived for. There was nothing compared to it. With a breath, she picked up the canter, shortened her reins and centered her gravity over his withers. Releasing the air in her lungs, she clicked her tongue, and Wings exploded. His lengthy stride ate up the track, kicking up perfectly manicured dirt clods behind him. His neck stretched out, mane whipping out behind him, rhythm beyond steady as he bolted past the first furlong marker. He was like a charging bull, shoving his power out in front of him, pushing his streamlined body along the rail, flinging himself over the track. Bailey couldn't help but laugh at the sheer power galloping so willingly beneath her. The pure black sinew literally soaring like an eagle above the ground.
All too soon it was over, and she stood in her stirrups, drawing the colt back. After several crow hops to voice his disapproval of having to slow down he relented and dropped back to a canter, trot, then walk. Bailey dropped the reins now, letting him walk on a loose rein, occasionally taking it back to remind him that he was done and he did have to walk, but attempting to let him relax as they strode through the gap. She leaned down, giving the colt a loving pat before vaulting off of him, a groom hurriedly grabbing the free hanging reins and pulling up the stirrups. "Make sure he gets sprayed down with liniment and get those legs poulticed and wrapped for the night-- I want the cool and tight tomorrow." The groom nodded and Bailey turned back, her next ride, the lovely little mare Apache High waiting patiently for her.