black, black, and chestnut

[Dante]

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FORD MODEL T

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workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER[/b]
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Like Frisians, Ford Model T's generally came in black. But every so often, a chestnut one came about; such as in the case of this colt here. No, he was no Frisian - what would one of those be doing on the racetrack? - but rather, a thoroughbred named Ford Model T. Tobias perched on the back of the horse, looking out onto the track ahead. Turf, seven furlongs of it. That was how far they were going to run today, in preparation for a race that would doubtlessly have stiff competition. It might have been limited to two year old colts, but that didn't mean it would be easy.

Ford stamped a hoof in impatience, then tossed his head, bringing Tobias back into reality. "Ready?" Came a shout from down the track, and Ford's ears picked up, turning towards the sound. Tobias gave a thumbs up to Skylark, who was waiting in the grandstands of the empty track, and to the gate. Ford felt good, and more than just physically. The colt has a spring to his step and an alertness about him. He carries his head high, and his eyes were bright, taking in everything from the gates ahead to the candy wrapper that glistened on the ground on the other side of the rail. His mind was going in hyper speed, but he wasn't overloaded. This was good. The next race he was in could shape up to be a crowded one, and the ADHD colt needed focus practice, or at least, he needed to be able to shift through his million and one thoughts and pick out the important one.

And that's what training was for. They were loaded into the gate with little trouble, but Ford was impatient once in it. He stamped and snorted and kept flicking his ears every which way, as though trying to hear horses that weren't there. Tobias pulled him back into focus, before dropping his goggles down over his face. Seven furlongs on the turf that stretched before him, bits of it already torn up by the last ride to go through. He didn't pity the maintenance workers. That was more work that Tobias could ever want, or try to, handle, keeping this place upkept. He took a deep breath, feeling the almost palomino chestnut sigh under him as well, and waited for that repetitive clang.

And clang it did. The two came running out without any hesitation, and Tobias was getting Ford to get moving right out of the gate. Seven furlong was on the short end of Ford's distance range, and the frontrunner needed to be going right away, to avoid getting behind or held in the back, as there would be little time for maneuvering him. Tobias was confident it was doable. In a face, Ford's wit did surface, and while he wore blinders, he probably could do without them on the shorter runs. Still, better to have them than not. Tobias kept Ford against the rail, not letting up on the stick whatsoever, urging Ford as fast as he could go as soon as he could. Accelerating and keeping ahead was key in this race plan. If he could get ahead, the jockey was sure that Ford could keep it, at least to maintain a placing, if not a win.

The colt was, after all, inexperienced in real races, there was no way to beat around that; but races were races, and experience was the easiest thing to gain around here. Sooner or later he'd have that. What was hard to get was what Ford already had. Confidence on the turf, the running style, the circulation and the lungs for the job. Those were either things you had, or did not have, and the blonde jockey was pleased to say Ford had those things.

Tobias rode Ford hard around the corner, so close to the rail Tobias was mildly scared that his boot or the edge of the stirrup would touch the rail, but he needn't have worried. Ford was not stupid enough to hit the rail, and his legs didn't reach down nearly far enough to touch it, either. For a moment he wished he could shift his weight better, but with so little to carry, Ford had no problem cornering as the seven furlong marker loomed before them.

They crossed them marker in a flurry of hooves, and Tobias brought Ford back down from a gallop. He'd run hard, sweaty and panting. Funny thing about that; everyone thought the long distance runs were harder, but Tobias always found it was the shortest runs on a horse's distance that did them in, as they had to give more, sooner. He walked the sweaty horse back to Skylark, who was grinning.

"I think there's a car in there, man." He called up to Tobias. "He runs like one, that's for sure. I expected to hear him rev, out of the gate." Skylark laughed. "C'mon, let's go. There's people waiting on us and he needs a sweat-scraper and a damp towel."

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WORKOUT STATS

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words| 845
workout surface| Turf
distance| 7 furlongs
horse| Ford Model T
jockey| Tobias Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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