Post by Dante on Oct 26, 2011 14:25:57 GMT -5
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FORD MODEL T
workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER[/b]
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"Fordy Fordddd!" Tobias was half awake for once as he walked towards the light chestnut, who's reins were currently being held by Skylark. "Fordy-Ford!" The chestnut's ears pricked up and he nickered when he saw Tobias, lip quivering. He knew what the tiny little man meant. Running. ADHD as he was, Ford Model T(horoughbred)
recognised some of the people around PHS, and what these people meant. IN the case of Tobias, this meant running. And lots of it; aka fun.
The exercise this time was going to be the same as the last race they'd run - seven furlongs, on turf, and it was the same as one of the races that Ford was going to be running soon. It combined practice with experience, and some repetition, which Ford could use quite a bit. His brains were scattery, and so if a distance and surface could be replicated, it played to their advantage. Ford would catch on, and run it better, and once he got that nailed, he'd go fry some bigger fish, so to speak.
With a leg up from the amputee, Tobias settled himself and headed for the gates. Ford was certainly eager to go. His motions were smooth; undulating, like they were just rolling along on wheels, over hooves. Not a bad feeling, to be sure. Ford was doing well with his footing as of late, helped in part by a recent visit of the farrier and a good shoeing. He was still all scatterminded as they went into the gate - he kept trying to look around, tilting his head at odd, almost impossible angles to try and see behind the blinders they put on his bridle. His jockey couldn't help but laugh. So many of the horses they had were racing-focused at all times on the track. Ford was one of those colts that could hang back and have some fun sometimes. Crux and App were certainly all business. Ford was the frat boy; he could run, but he also knew how to party.
After a moment of letting Ford look around and settle, Tobias brought his head back under control and bent forwards, looking between the light chestnut's ears, over his creamy-colored mane. Any moment now, the gates wo-
Yep.
Ford reacted faster than Tobias did, and sprung forth to try and take the lead over make-believe horses. It was his nature to go for the front. Roll on into the top spot, and keep rolling there, not leaving it if at all possible. As such, Tobias knew a lot of the race would be subjective. Ford would need to slightly outdo the pace of the preceders to be in peak spot, but keep his endurance in one piece. Seven furlongs was a short as he went, however - endurance wasn't a worry here. No, he'd just keep the pace at the inside, or nearly so, and stay ahead just enough to avoid being boxed for the majority of the race. Come the final furlong and a half, though, he'd let the colt go party on ahead of the gang.
Resultantly, Tobias let Ford go fairly strong, but didn't let him go all-out. Yet. They were rolling along, the mid morning sun beaming down on their backs. It was still warm this time of morning, even though the leaves were falling from the trees; creating a blur of red, orange, yellow and gold all around them as they ran.
Three furlongs...four...five...five and a half...let's go! Tobias mentally urged Ford on as she gave the horse the stick, and then the reins. Not as much as he would with many horses, for two reasons - one, he needed to pilot Ford more than most, and two, the horse was a semi-truck, not a Model T. Once he was going, he was going, and if you lose control over his head, you'd be next seen somewhere in Canada, not Prison Hill Stables.
They passed the seven furlong mark and thankfully did not end up in Canada, but rather back over to Skylark. "Good run." The trainer commented. "He looks smooth. Maybe when he's older, I'll take a spin on him. At the speeds you went today, though, I'd likely loose a leg!"
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 706
workout surface| Turf
distance| 7 furlongs
horse| Ford Model T
jockey| Tobias Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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