back into it

[Dante]

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RUNAWAY ONELEG

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workout with
MOSES LANCASTER[/b]
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It had been a long time. Moses had torn open his shoulder in an accident at the barn, thus keeping Runaway Oneleg out of the running for quite some time. But now, not it was time to get back into it. It wouldn't be easy - Solo wasn't highly competitive, for all her adaptability. Impossible, though - that it was not. Moses was going to give it his best shot, he was going to make it work. It was night, and the bay blended fairly well with the track. She didn't feel as great as she could feel, but she was eager to get out and going. She'd had little true work - Erin and Skylark and Tobias had all hopped on her, to keep her fit, but they hadn't ran her. They all had things to do, (or with two false legs, didn't trust themselves just yet) places to be, and horses to work of their own.

Thankfully, Solo was not the horse to harbour a grudge. She listened to him like it was yesterday he'd gotten on, and was ever-patient. You'd think she was a older, calmer horse, rather than a thoroughbred. It was a blessing or a curse...they'd have to see. He hoped they could use it like a blessing, he really did. Or would nice fillies finish last?

The workout was to be in anticipation of their next race, a maiden run on turf, eight furlongs. Not too hard to get Solo back into it. It was going to be a big field, but she did have a few races that had been huge - her first race had been in a field of 11 - and Moses was banking on the fact that she really only had done bigger races to help them out. They were loaded into the gate, and Solo didn't bat an eyelash. If racing didn't work out, waiting a few years and using her as a lesson horse would work pretty good, too - but not the point. He fixed his goggles and shifted his seat, looking out to the shadowy grandstands for a sign of Skylark, and there he was, seated in PJ pants a long ways down, flashlight in hand. It would only be a matter of time now.

Moses wasn't sure how much time was 'a matter of time' but when it came, it came. They burst forth from the gates and they were going. Perhaps not the fastest start, but it didn't need to be. It wasn't Solo's style to start fast. It was her style to finish, to close the race on her terms; though Solo was capable of running races that were not on her terms. Unlike many a racehorse, the bay filly had adaptability as her middle name, and lived up to it. The run was limited only in the ways Moses could thing of it to run, really. Closing was her best asset, but if he had to, he could push her to the front and maintain her there.

For not having been raced in a long time, Solo was doing well. He couldn't feel her breathing get wonky, and her strides were long and sure. It was all part of the game, and she was playing it. She'd work her way up - see if she didn't. While typically not an imposing mare, she'd not just crash and burn because of it. She'd do her thing, and just because so-and-so was doing this, she wasn't going to go down on the track and let them win. No racehorse thought like that, and the blonde boy could feel a racehorse beneath them as they ran along.

Moses kept her slow and steady for the first half of the race and around the curve, leaving about three furlongs for the finally push. Now. Now was the time. He could see that red marker in the distance, standing out from the grey blur of the evening and the colorless, flying-by world that was not the track. He gave her her head and the rein, and felt her speed up.

Solo took the cue and took off, ever willing to please, and just kept going. The blonde jockey had little work to do other than prompt her, and she'd keep going, and going, and going. She knew what was asked of her, and Solo always went as far as she could to try and fulfill the request that was asked of her. Moses could just imagine the horses getting lost behind them, as "the one legged horse" kicked up dust and went flying away.

The passed the eight furlong marker shortly thereafter, and looped around to go see Skylark, who was sitting on the rail now, swinging his legs back and forth. "Not half bad." He said with a nod. "Looks like you two are back into it."

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WORKOUT STATS

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words| 812
workout surface| Turf
distance| 8 furlongs
horse| Runaway Oneleg
jockey| Moses Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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