Post by Dante on Sept 23, 2012 15:29:54 GMT -5
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LADY OPHELIA
workout with
ERIN TRUBELL
for the
THESE OLD BONES STAKES[/b]
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Lady Ophelia had surprised Erin, going remarkably well this season. That didn't mean that the next race was going to be easy. In fact, to Erin, it looked downright impossible to win their next race. Their next race was to be the These old bones stakes, and they would be racing up against the grade one racehorse Flashy Wings, from Stride of Perfection Stables. Erin wasn't sure why this was going to happen, but the Grade Four mare was about to go into one of the toughest races of her life, to be sure.
Not that the cremello mare cared. She stomped and stamped and pranced and threw her head with Erin atop her, eager to get going. The massive thoroughbred had reserves of stamina that were rarely seen, making her capable of frontrunning at a great distance, even at 12 furlongs, which was the mock race, and the length of the upcoming race. Connor sat on a railing, cigarette in his mouth. He blew out some smoke before speaking.
"Flashy Wings is a stalker. He's good at what he does, make no mistake. But Ophelia is unlike most frontrunners. True, she's gt the aggression he's used to dealing with but not the stamina. He's used to draining horses, or waiting until they've drained themselves. Drain him instead. Run her hard, almost suicidal. It's shaping to be just the two of him, so unless he wants to try his hand at closing, he'll have to keep up or die. We haven't got great hopes, no, but I put here here for a reason. She'll try her hardest, or her heart will explode."
"So you're trying to kill her?" Erin raised a brow. She knew that wasn't the case, and chuckled. "Kay. I got the plan. Easy enough." There was no more time to peak, anyways, as Ophelia backed up at an astonishing pace and spun repeatedly, until Erin reined her back in and to the gates, cursing in such a way that might have caused holy men to faint. As they got into the gate, the six foot tall jockey realized that thy had one advantage more of sorts - Ophelia was nearly two hands taller than her competition, and extremely aggressive. While she wasn't a stallion, that sort of demeanour had caused plenty of horses to shrink back, and Erin couldn't help but wonder if it would come to help them now.
The gates opened, and they were off. Dirt flew up as Ophelia broke like the devil was chewing her heels, and took off, ears pinned to her skull. Erin bent down over the mare's massive neck, and they were flying away. Erin knew she'd have to run Ophelia competitive, and so brought her right to the rail right away. They'd take a gamble, and see what happened. They'd run reckless, that's what. Henna Truath was the 'horse whisperer' of SOPS. She'd want to get into horse's heads, but Erin wouldn't give her the pleasure to take out the strategic guns on Lady Ophelia and herself. They'd run wild, reckless, and without regard for the horse that would be stalking behind. Their chances for winning were slim, so why not throw all they had at it, and put on a show?
Ophelia, for her part, hardly seemed to mind the practice or the strategy at hand. Her steps were long and fast, her well muscled body rippling, mane flowing back and tickling Erin's nose. The jockey set herself in the stirrups, and held Ophelia back from a full out suicidal run before the curve. She'd need some control to her her thought that without a massive disaster, and to preform a signature trick of hers. While small jockeys were perfectly able to get through a curve, Erin could throw herself around a bit, acting as a counterbalance. It allowed them to get in closer to the rail, even when on that ever-present, looming curve. No asset would be left untouched in this race.
The curve came up at a daunting speed even for Erin, and the jockey hoped Ophelia wouldn't run through the bit and kill them both as she bolted headlong into the curve, using her down balance to keep the mare right up against the rail. It flashed below them, a white-grey blur that Erin had once seen kill a man - he'd fallen into it at this speed. The thought made her grin, not out of his death, but out of the thrill of danger. This is what she lived for! Laughing at death and riding faster, faster!
They came out of the curve, and Erin Trubell let Ophelia have her head at last, keeping just enough to keep her on the rail and avoid trampling down Flashy Wings if, in the real race, he got up right beside her. That was illegal, after all, and not a good way to end a race. The frontrunner kept going, her eyes wild, bits of spit and drool flying back from the mare's mouth. It was like she was possessed, and Erin wouldn't have it any other way. This was insanity, not the playful kind Classic Nutcase had. This was raw, fearsome stuff that, if Ophelia were sin, she'd have been wrath. Win or lose, there was a rush Erin got from that thought. They'd put up the best fight they could.
Lady Ophelia was sweat soaked as they passed the marker for twelve furlongs, and finally came to a slowdown, with some bucking and rearing and other theatrics. Erin didn't know what to think of the race, as Connor was sitting writing frantically; ignoring her in the process, but she hoped the time had been good.-----------------------
WORKOUT STATS
words| 950
workout surface| Dirt
distance| 12 furlongs
horse| Lady Ophelia
jockey| Erin Trubell
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