Post by Dante on Oct 7, 2012 0:14:53 GMT -5
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DEVIL'S CRUSADE
workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER
for the
THUNDERSTORM STAKES[/b]
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Tobias was quite surprised he hadn't had a monster today, but today was a day not for energy drinks, he supposed, but fasting. Despite the tiny little man seeing nothing but ribs when he posed in front of the mirror from the shower, it was never enough. Ever. He had to the the smallest, and lightest. It was his claim to fame. He did it, he assured himself, for the horses. The horses, he rationalized, needed him this way. It really wasn't rational at all, but he pretended it was. He looked at the clock, threw on his clothes and headed down to his car, looking oddly weary and drawn.
"You okay?" Skylark remarked, seeing Tobias walking slowly up to Devil's Crusade. The black stallion waited eagerly, ears pricked forwards. He was to run, his first race in a while, and this work was to shake off any dust the stallion might have collected. However, the break would mean he was well rested and ready to go, high, even.
"Fine, Skylark. Just fine." Tobias was resisting the urge to throw up, though not from nausea. "Same routine?" He asked, mounting Crux and pulling down his goggles. Skylark nodded. Their signature with Crux was simple. He would stay in the middle, unnoticed for the most part, but ever creeping up. Bit by but he would encroach, until the final push three furlongs from the end. He wasn't a super-accelerator of a horse. He needed time to reach that peak, but once he reached it, he would be able to hold it and stay at the front even as everyone shifted around him.
They got to the gates and Tobias looked out again over the dirt. It was late evening, and the track lights were on. Theirs would be the last run of the night, before it got too dark for anyone sane to gallop down the stretch. Tobias certainly wouldn't dare, even with the floodlights to guide him. After a certain point, they were more likely to blind than anything else. Crux pawed in the gate, then tossed his head. Tobias let him, knowing trying to settle him in here would only work him up more...
BAM.
The gates opened and Crux broke, not to fast, nor too slow. That was fine for a midrunner by Tobias' standards. There was nothing fancy out of the gate from Crux, and that was how he liked it. From this stallion, nothing fancy was the fancy side to things, in a way. He wasn't flashy. People didn't see him coming and he didn't grab headlines. When he came to win, he won; he was an unsung horse of PHS and Tobias could appreciate that. Most Prison Hill horses were cast under App's shadow, but Devil's Crusade was one of those stallions that just kept on chugging anyways.
He was well-muscled and powerful as he moved down the track, strides long and yet workable. If Tobias had said it once, he'd said it a thousand times - maneuverability was essential for a midrunner, especially one like Crux, where weaving and working was part of the game.
As such, this particular workout was going to be run very basically. There were no other horses on the track to try and weave around, which was a downside to training a midrunner; you needed a real field, something not readily available, to practice weaving through horses. This run was more of a run for running's sake, for speed practice. The black stallion chomped down and pulled on the bit, as though trying to run right through the skeleton-jockey's hands. Tobias managed to hold him, albeit just so, and keep him steady right through the curve. Now was where the fun began. They came out at six furlongs, and this was the point where Crux would be at the front of the middle pack. This was where the move was made.
It seemed like almost no time passed at all before they hit the seventh furlong, and off they headed. Tobias added the stick and gave Crux some more rein, and the stallion took off. Tobias made she to keep control, but he kept urging. The acceleration seemed slow, but he knew that by the time the ninth furlong rolled in, they would be up ahead.
At the very least, they would be at top speed; if this work was anything to go by. The time the ninth furlong was merely a marker behind them, Crux was at his peak speed, and had been for a bit. Gradually, Tobias brought him down, hands shaking from a mixture of hunger and adrenaline, a combination that was weird, but summed up his life, a life he wouldn't even trade for being a foot taller.
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WORKOUT STATS
words| 793
workout surface| Dirt
distance| 9 furlongs
horse| Devil's Crusade
jockey| Tobias Lancaster
type| closed workout (do not reply)
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