Post by Dante on Aug 1, 2012 0:14:35 GMT -5
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ROYAL ASSASSIN
workout with
ERIN TRUBELL
for the
FEBRUARY TURF STAKES[/b]
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Being a wrecking ball had worked in the breeder's cup, much to Erin's surprise. Yes, she had made some people mad, but as long as she didn't make contact, it was legal to run like they had. So, they were going to do it again. Do what made you happy, and do what you were good at. If the two collided, even better, and such was the case. Royal Assassin had such a one-track mind that she would be a threatening frontrunner, a wrecking ball, whatever you wanted to call it, and not suffer extremely for it.
"Let's get 'er done." Connor said with a grin. Today was a new day a bright morning, and despite that, he still looked hungover. Oh well.
"Yeah, I'm on it." Erin spat out her nicotine gum onto the ground, and hopped up on the three year old bay. Bonus to being tall, she supposed. Ground mounting was easy.
"You're very flexible." Connor said for a moment, as Erin situated herself atop Prince.
"Where were YOU looking?" Erin asked darkly, knowing exactly where his eyes had been before wheeling Prince away and towards the gate. She'd proceed to ignore him now. Today's workout was to be eight furlongs on the turf. The colt ran equally well on dirt and turf, so the footing Erin wasn't concerned about, really. It was all about the competition. The stakes were rather new to Royal Assassin, but he had come out of his two-year-old season decorated and at a grade four level, so she was hoping for the best. Thus far, there were two other entrants. Silver censored and Prison Hill's own Ford Model T. Ford would be hard to catch. Moses knew full well what Erin would do, but if they caught and pushed around Silver Birch, Ford would have to respond to that. It was just a matter of creating a chain reaction. Even in a small field, it was possible, and the field was only going to get bigger.
A path of wreckage. Erin smirked at the idea as they were loaded into the gate. She sure knew about leaving chaos in her wake. By the time she finished high school, she'd tried just about everything her parents told her not to do, save for prostitution. So why not try stuff people frowned upon? It was just more fun! Except for prostitution. After all, you could get AIDS.
The gates sprung open, and with them, Royal Assassin. The son of Royal Red Richard bolted from the gates, hopefully earning him a spot near the front in the real race. His ears were pricked, and the horse was dead set on running forwards. The redheaded jockey could probably close her eyes for half the race, and Prince would probably still be running, right on course.
As the two ran along the turf, Erin moved him back and forth a bit, steering him along in a loose, long zigzag to prepare him for what was to come. He had better be ready for the swerving, as they would be doing it from the early and mid portions of the race to dissuade people from making a move towards him. Later on in the race that would change.
Everything about this work, and indeed, how they would behave in the race to come had red warning lights. The swerving could down him, but Erin was confident it wouldn't, and the way they took the turns, so sharp with almost no outside swing would have tipped them if Erin had been smaller. It was a daredevil's ride, and Erin would have it no other way. Besides, it kept Prince sharp. It made him think about where his feet were, what Erin was asking, and in a race without other horses, where they were. He was so single-minded that if he zoned out, there could be problems. That's where things got dangerous, and that's where she didn't want to go.
The curve was taken sharp, and right out of it, they began to accelerate, but it was only at the seventh of eight furlongs did they really let loose and let go. Erin bent low, melding her frame to that of the bay colt to make them more aerodynamic as she added the stick and gave Prince his head. All to freely move, faster faster and faster yet still. This was the final furlong, and it was time to go.
They crossed the eight furlong marker, and as Erin looped back to Connor, she hoped it would be good enough. It was Prince's first start of the year, and she wanted to do her best to help him make an impression. He had HOF blood and talent, but thy had to work hard to get somewhere with it, and she just hoped she was doing enough.-----------------------
WORKOUT STATS
words| 806
workout surface| Turf
distance| 8 furlongs
horse| Royal Assassin
jockey| Erin Trubell
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