Post by Dante on Apr 18, 2012 18:27:35 GMT -5
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LADY OPHELIA
workout with
ERIN TRUBELL
for the
SEASPRAY CUP GRADE FIVE[/b]
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The Seaspray Cup. It was coming up and Lady Ophelia was in it. Erin did not want to take non performance for an answer. They were going to do well, or Erin was going to die trying. And Lady Ophelia was well and capable of killing her if she so desired. "Whoa, whoa, hooooo..." Connor reached up and grabbed into Ophelia's bridle, holding her as Erin tried to get on. The silly filly kept trying to dash off to the side every time the redhead tried today, and it was not catering to Erin's mood. It would have been better if Connor hadn't asked her out again.
Ophelia stamped a hoof in irritation as Erin got on, and prepared herself for the series of bucks that followed. Best get them out before the gate than in them. "Just go for the gate." Connor told her. "I won't delay opening them once you're in, she's got too much to burn off with this run." Erin nodded, and let Ophelia have a canter to the gate. The cremello filly had never been exactly sane - a slightly more dangerous version of her namesake - and while some go was good for a race, obviously, too much ran the risk of her going out of control and ruining a possible win, something that had happened before.
True to his word, almost as soon as Ophelia was loaded into the gate, they were open again. The three-year-old broke fast and Erin took her to the rail right away. Fast start, fast finish, with a slight lull in the middle, that was how this filly raced. She'd leave the competitors to eat her dust in the middle, leave them to catch up or stay behind as she steadied off in the middle of the race, allowing Erin to collect the thoroughbreds scattered wits before a final push into the end. Ten furlongs was more than enough time for her to pull this off, given no stage happened with discontinuity.
The wind lashed against her face as the horse and rider speed along over the dirt, a graceful sight, even if she did say so herself. Beyond them were the grandstands that would in a little while be full of hundreds and hundreds of cheering spectators, of betters and booze and once, long ago, a boy...
The ginger jockey shook that out of her mind, and began to concentrate again. Now was a time for a race, not a reminiscence! Ophelia thundered along into the fourth furlong, and Erin played with the reins, keeping her steady, keeping her from speeding up. It was a tender line to walk - the difference between 'hold it there' and 'decelerate' was quite often slim, moreso when dealing with a horse of extremes like the one she was on. Typical of the duo, they took the bend sharp but steady as they moved into the last half of the sixth furlong. The size of the race was shaping up to be resoundingly average after the giant fields she was typically used to, which could play to her advantage.
Once they hit the seventh furlong, perhaps even a third into it, Erin let Ophelia do what she'd wanted to do - accelerate. Erin could feel the filly moving under her, and the power that was within. It was hard to channel the power that she had, but they were working on it. A three year old had plenty of time to move up in the ranks and grow, after all. The two ladies flew past the finish marker, ahead of an imaginary field, before looping back to Connor.
"We'll see." He said simply. "She had that imaginary field, let's see how she does against real ponies."
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 625
workout surface| Dirt
distance| 10 furlongs
horse| Lady Ophelia
jockey| Erin Trubell
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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