Post by Snowflake on Sept 16, 2011 3:48:08 GMT -5
EUPHORION AND SARAH STAR
Coming off his maiden win, Euphorion was in great form. Nudging his chestnut sides with my heels, I urged Ryan to trot. His long, bouncy stride ate up the turf, as I rose and fell in time to his rhythmic beats. Ryan seemed to dance when he moved. His flirty nature made it seem all the more possible that he was in fact dancing. For the ladies, and the photographers. Well, for anyone who was watching, the show off. I opened up my arm towards the center of the track, steering him in a tight figure eight, then a circle. The two year old bounced through the exercises easily, then broke into canter just as I had asked. I had him complete the same exercises at canter a little further down the track, then urged him to gallop.
Ryan immediately switched to the racing pace, lengthening his stride and rapidly increasing his speed. I caught his sense of excitement through the reins, and had to hold him. At two years old, he was far from physically mature and recklessness could get him hurt. Ryan leaned on the bit, begging to go faster. Sorry Ryan. I murmured. Not today.
His ears tipped back to listen to me, then he snorted in response. We continued at the same pace, but I could still feel his deep desire to go faster, and my own fiery longing to oblige. But I couldn't - he'd only just come out of a race two days ago, he didn't need a hard gallop now.
Ryan, unfortunately, had other ideas. Though he usually hated to displease me, he was very fresh and really wanted to run. So when another horse breezed past in the middle of the track, he of course took off, with two furlongs to go. Ryan! I said furiously, tugging hard on his head in an attempt to slow the horse down. He, for once, ignored me completely, and sprinted the final two furlongs to the wire to beat the other horse by two lengths.
Argh! I exclaimed frustratedly, though I'd finally been able to slow the colt up. The other horse and rider passed by, and the other rider turned in the saddle to give me a thumbs up, like he'd meant to race us. I bit back an angry tirade, and contented myself with imagining giving him the finger. Then I laughed a little. Imagining stuff like that always made me feel better. I cantered Ryan out, then slowed him to trot through the gap. Well, at least Ryan had about a month to recover before his next possible race.
