Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2012 7:52:58 GMT -5
She had ran well in her last race, which had been at The Wire, and given herself a good start to the new season. With a win to her name early in the season, things looked good for the months to come, and it was hoped that Amira would continue to impress in her next race. The stable had known from the moment she had crossed the line in first exactly what that race would be: the Spring Cup Grade Four Turf. She had a record which was slowly improving and her skills seemed to finally be coming in to play. Clearly, she had hit her peak late but now there was a chance she might start to make a real name for herself on the turf.
The bay mare moved with confidence and dignity. She held herself well, her head high and her eyes bright. She did not make a fuss, did not waste energy in foolish attempts to make herself look bigger or more impressive than what she was, and that made her look better. Fooling around was for the young, the immature, and Amira was neither of those. At five years old, she was making a stand against a world which had long since turned it's back on her. At five years old, she was finally beginning to progress.
One win. That was all she needed to meet the goal that Jacob Donovan had held for her since her arrival at the barn. One win, and she would rise from Grade Four into Grade Three. He had taken her on at Grade Five, and they were on the verge of pushing through into the next stage. If she could do it, they would continue to fight for glory. If she could do it, maybe they had a chance to really shine this year. That win, it was hoped, would come in this next race. But it would not be easy - when was anything ever easy?
Jacob watched as the mare approached the track. He had arrived here, with Matthias, a little while ago and had been discussing many things. Among them, the plans they had for the future of the mare Jacob was about to ride. Matthias had said that he thought Amira would be retired at the end of the year, and Jacob had frowned. In the end, they had agreed that they would discuss it toward the end of the year rather than at the beginning, and that seemed like the best plan.
As Lucas brought the mare on to the turf, she made eye contact with her jockey and they shared a long, meaningful moment. They were both ready to put on a real show, and they understood that together they could do just that. Jacob patted Matthias on the shoulder and walked over, pulling himself into the saddle of the bay equine and running his hand over her muscular shoulder. "I hope you're ready for this, sweety." he spoke to her in soft tones, and adjusted himself in the saddle as Lucas led them to the gate.
Amira entered the gate without too much of a problem, the Jacob rose in his stirrups as he waited for the workout to begin. They were running only three furlongs as they wished to push Amira's speed today. That wanted to give her every chance to be in her best form, and so they were using the short distance not only for speed purposes, but to maintain the energy that the filly had.
The gates opened, the they moved swiftly out onto the track. The bay mare pressed forwards, and Jacob urged her. They were not going at a low speed, but pressing forward as they might in the home stretch of a race. The mare's legs moved at increasing pace beneath her, her audits pressed forwards and her tail held high like a banner behind her. Each move was purposeful, each stride had intent behind it. Jacob could feel as they accelerated, he could feel every move the mare made beneath him.
The ground was passing quickly. The turf behind them kicked out, damp from rain the night before, and he was sure it would not be fully dried come race day. But Amira had handled soft ground before, she excelled on it, and she powered on up the stretch. Move by move, they were making their way toward their goal with ease and soon they passed the post. A good, strong workout. Their chances come race day had, at least slightly, improved.
The bay mare moved with confidence and dignity. She held herself well, her head high and her eyes bright. She did not make a fuss, did not waste energy in foolish attempts to make herself look bigger or more impressive than what she was, and that made her look better. Fooling around was for the young, the immature, and Amira was neither of those. At five years old, she was making a stand against a world which had long since turned it's back on her. At five years old, she was finally beginning to progress.
One win. That was all she needed to meet the goal that Jacob Donovan had held for her since her arrival at the barn. One win, and she would rise from Grade Four into Grade Three. He had taken her on at Grade Five, and they were on the verge of pushing through into the next stage. If she could do it, they would continue to fight for glory. If she could do it, maybe they had a chance to really shine this year. That win, it was hoped, would come in this next race. But it would not be easy - when was anything ever easy?
Jacob watched as the mare approached the track. He had arrived here, with Matthias, a little while ago and had been discussing many things. Among them, the plans they had for the future of the mare Jacob was about to ride. Matthias had said that he thought Amira would be retired at the end of the year, and Jacob had frowned. In the end, they had agreed that they would discuss it toward the end of the year rather than at the beginning, and that seemed like the best plan.
As Lucas brought the mare on to the turf, she made eye contact with her jockey and they shared a long, meaningful moment. They were both ready to put on a real show, and they understood that together they could do just that. Jacob patted Matthias on the shoulder and walked over, pulling himself into the saddle of the bay equine and running his hand over her muscular shoulder. "I hope you're ready for this, sweety." he spoke to her in soft tones, and adjusted himself in the saddle as Lucas led them to the gate.
Amira entered the gate without too much of a problem, the Jacob rose in his stirrups as he waited for the workout to begin. They were running only three furlongs as they wished to push Amira's speed today. That wanted to give her every chance to be in her best form, and so they were using the short distance not only for speed purposes, but to maintain the energy that the filly had.
The gates opened, the they moved swiftly out onto the track. The bay mare pressed forwards, and Jacob urged her. They were not going at a low speed, but pressing forward as they might in the home stretch of a race. The mare's legs moved at increasing pace beneath her, her audits pressed forwards and her tail held high like a banner behind her. Each move was purposeful, each stride had intent behind it. Jacob could feel as they accelerated, he could feel every move the mare made beneath him.
The ground was passing quickly. The turf behind them kicked out, damp from rain the night before, and he was sure it would not be fully dried come race day. But Amira had handled soft ground before, she excelled on it, and she powered on up the stretch. Move by move, they were making their way toward their goal with ease and soon they passed the post. A good, strong workout. Their chances come race day had, at least slightly, improved.