Post by sillyfilly09 on Sept 28, 2011 15:00:58 GMT -5
The gray colt's dapply coat reflected the early morning rays, puffs of breath steaming from his soft muzzle as he was ridden onto the soft polytrack. Boy's neck was arched, mouth chewing at the bit, nervous look in his eye. As soon as his jockey, Michael, swung him the other way and away from the barn, Boy let out a squeal and reared up slightly. HIs jockey, knowing what to do, scratched him on the neck and pressed him into a jog, wanting to get him loosened up. The gray colt seemed wary about it, tossing his silvery mane in the air. Once Michael felt him start to relax and loosen, he pressed him into a canter, working counter clockwise on the outside rail before heading to the inside. Sweat was already beginning to crease on Mike's brow, and on Boy's neck. He had specific instructions to breeze him 6 furlongs before his maiden start. Boy's breath quickened as his pace quickened, and his jockey guided him over to the rail. The colt's pace quickened even more, forcing Mike to crouch down farther, causing Boy's mane to whip against his face.
All he could hear was the pounding of his hooves on the soft dirt, and the labored breathing of the horse. Boy was taking this too easily. Pushing his fists into the colt's mane, he showed Boy the crop on his right eye, and the colt jumped at it, as if a carrot was held in front of his face. There was a certain eagerness to the colt this morning, as though he knew he had a race and he knew he wanted to win and overcome his fears. With a positive flick of his silvery tail, the colt charged on, almost ripping the rubber reins out of Mike’s hand. The jockey didn’t need to urge the spooky colt forward, as they breezed past the 6 furlong mark. Now, was the part to actually get him to slow down. When Boy realized they were over, he rolled his eyes back, showing the whites, suddenly very nervous and jumpy. He broke from a straight canter to a walk, blowing hard and steam was rising up from his body. Mike pressed him forwards just to get him back to the stable area. Boy flung his head up, but they managed to get to the stabling area without a fuss.
All he could hear was the pounding of his hooves on the soft dirt, and the labored breathing of the horse. Boy was taking this too easily. Pushing his fists into the colt's mane, he showed Boy the crop on his right eye, and the colt jumped at it, as if a carrot was held in front of his face. There was a certain eagerness to the colt this morning, as though he knew he had a race and he knew he wanted to win and overcome his fears. With a positive flick of his silvery tail, the colt charged on, almost ripping the rubber reins out of Mike’s hand. The jockey didn’t need to urge the spooky colt forward, as they breezed past the 6 furlong mark. Now, was the part to actually get him to slow down. When Boy realized they were over, he rolled his eyes back, showing the whites, suddenly very nervous and jumpy. He broke from a straight canter to a walk, blowing hard and steam was rising up from his body. Mike pressed him forwards just to get him back to the stable area. Boy flung his head up, but they managed to get to the stabling area without a fuss.