Post by Dante on Sept 18, 2011 10:36:13 GMT -5
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EXECUTIONER'S APPRENTICE
workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER[/b]
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Connor had a stupid idea of what a morning workout was. Beating the rush was one thing, but was 4:30 AM REALLY necessary? Tobias did have a life. He might be short, but he did try to pick up chicks at bars. Having to sleep at times typically reserved for elementary school kids was a bit sad. Moreso when the jockey beat the trainer to the track. App was waiting, tacked by Tobias, when the trainer showed up, eyes bloodshot. He smelled of smoke, and not the cigarette or cooking kind. "You even sane?" Tobias grumbled. "Tell me you're not actually high."[/color][/b]
"I might be, but I am sane. Now get yourself and the pony onto the track." Without another word, Connor went off, stopwatch and clipboard in hand. Tobias sighed and mounted App from a fence. The grey colt didn't complain. He was smart enough to know that walking away and having his jockey land astride a metal fence would not be conductive to racing (or Tobias having babies, for that matter) the next day. This run was going to be longer than the last practice they did. They were moving it up from 5 furlongs to 9, in anticipation of the next race App was going into, still on turf. He's done very well against G5's in the previous race he'd run, scoring second, and everyone at Prison Hill wanted to keep that going with this next race, which was to be just against the maidens, and still a very good and strong distance of his.
The area was as dark as if it was 1 am, until Connor finally hit the lights. It amazed Toby they were allowed to book time this early, though if Connor tried this on him again he'd complain. App, however, certainly didn't mind. He moved well and chewed at the bit, eager to get a move on and stretch his legs. He wanted this run. App was feeling chipper, feeling strong, as he was loaded into the gate. This run would do him good, get him well trained on the shorter sprints and mid-length runs. Plus, the cold win would be good on Tobias' face. He was awake, but his brain felt like it was going to turn off in fifteen minutes. Which, if everything went well, was more than enough time to finish this, and then fall asleep in his car until he was needed again at the track at 10 AM.
There was a moment of silence, where nothing stirred. As soon as the silence was noted, the game was she to- yes! Tobias' thoughts were scattered, and focus regained on the horse and track as they rocketed off. He kept App steady, noting how well the horse replied. His strides were long, and there was plenty of hurry, but not the mad, exhausting rush that another, less intelligent horse might offer. In the dark of thenightmorning, the colt's grey body almost melted away, save for the bright splotch of "blood", the likely cause of his name, on his shoulder and much of a leg.
App didn't like the mild holding back that Tobias had to do, but he complied, following the curve of the track with ease - his balance was great. He adjusted his speed to Tobias' every command, assuming there to be a greater plan, which there was, for six furlongs in he gave the colt the rein. The two year old responded gracefully, speeding up and pulling ahead of an imaginary crowd. The grey headed to the inside on his own, staying near the rail as they passed the pole marking the sixth furlong. Everything got faster and faster from there on out. App knew that this was the point in the game where strategy only got you so far, it was speed, and man oh man, did he give just that. The cold wind on Tobias' face was waking the guy up, and the wind on App's face just spurred him on. Faster, faster, faster, until the wind wouldn't even have a chance. That was what it felt like the colt wanted to Tobias. App was good and ready for this race. He was capable, and nothing was bothering him. He'd keep his head and maybe score a win. Yes. It was good.
They rocketed past the finish line not long afterwards, but when Tobias looked around, he couldn't see the bloody trainer! Instead, hanging from a fencepost, was the clipboard and stopwatch. Everything was filled in, the time recorded hastily, and then Conner had, true to his colors, jumped ship, presumably to go to sleep. As though reading the mind of his jockey, the colt sighed.
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 791
workout surface| Turf
distance| 9 furlongs
horse| Executioner's Apprentice
jockey| Tobias Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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