that's what she said

[Dante]

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RUNAWAY ONELEG

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workout with
MOSES LANCASTER[/b]
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Ah yes. The track. Moses watched the prior workout finish atop a dark bay filly, who, contrary to her name, had four legs, not one. Personally, he thought whoever named her had been high; but he did find it amusing. Unlike most thoroughbreds, Solo (formally known as Runaway Oneleg) didn't prance or dance or shift as she waited. She just...waited. Solo was the Miss Manners of the stable, and she loved to show that off...in the most polite way possible, of course. Moses enjoyed this face. The filly was like putty underneath him. Ask her something, and she'd do it and throw her soul into doing it. She liked to please. It meant Moses could think in his stirrups and adapt the plan to whatever he needed to do. One might think Solo's docile temperament would be a drawback on the track, but it was the other way around. She was unpredictable. If he could think of it, she could do it, and so no one "role" could be named to her. Yes, she had preferences, but if the young jockey needed to, he could override them easily and still do reasonably well.

The horse before them cleared out of the way, and Moses rode Solo out onto the track, who didn't bat an eyelash at being loaded into the gate. He could see Skylark at the side with the stopwatch, ready to test this workout. The workout was to be a good solid run - 10 furlongs - and it would see just what Solo could do. The filly had her game face on, dark eyes clear and attentive, ears prickled forwards. Underneath him, Moses could feel she was primed, but not tense. Anticipating, but not nervous of the turf track that stretched in front of her. The wide open world. It was up to them to take it on. Moses placed his goggles down over his eyes, taking a long, slow breath. Four seconds in, fur seconds hold, exhale.

"Ready?!" He could hear Skylark call. Solo didn't twitch, but Moses felt not need to shout right over her head and instead nodded, raising a hand briefly before picking up the reins, crop clutched in his left hand. He's done it a thousand times by now. He was used to it. But like the horse under him, he was ready, eager and willing...and yes. That was what she said. The stupid joke come to mind barely a second before the gates snapped open, and the horse was bulleting down the track.

To the pair, now one unit with one goal, the world around them blurred, and so to bent time. Every millisecond became a second, every hoofbeat was felt, every motion was precise. It was not a horse running to her hearts content. Both rider and jockey knew there was a plan. There was a situation. There was a job, there was a living, there was a future on the line of every race. Moses, however, was confident. The dark bay felt smooth and fine under him. She was more than sound, she was sure of her feet and where they were going, sure that her rider wasn't just going to fall off, and sure of what was ahead. This was a bomb-proof horse, with fluid, good motion. The wind threw her mane and tail around, and the wind in his ears was all Moses Lancaster could hear about him, but it was all he needed to hear.

A glance to the rail - 7 furlongs gone now. Solo was running strong, pulling him a little. She had plenty left to give to him, but was holding to her pace. If he hadn't needed his breath, he might have asked her how much she was going to give. Instead, he asked for her to show. He bent forwards a little further, careful of where he was putting his center of gravity, and let her the rein, also giving her the stick as he did so. Solo responded tenfold, as though to say 'you want this? you got it, kid' and he felt her go. It was almost as though he was Solo. Almost as though he could feel her breathing, think what she thought, feel the turf under his feet, not through proxy of hers.

By the time the two finished and slowed themselves down, Skylark had ran on over to him, wobbling to a stop before the sweaty racehorse and panting rider. "Not bad." The former jockey nodded. "We'll see how she does, but I'm liking the results we're getting from her. She likes you, too." He nodded, stroking Solo's face.

"I'm glad she does. I had a good ride." Moses said, then burst into laughter. The two boys said the next thing in unison;

"That's what she said!"

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WORKOUT STATS

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words| 801
workout surface| turf
distance| 10 furlongs
horse| Runaway Oneleg
jockey| Moses Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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