Post by *Ripley* on May 2, 2014 11:06:39 GMT -5
Sideways Glance
In Front's Kentucky Derby Workout
Cross My Heart's Pegasus Wings Memorial Workout
In Front's Kentucky Derby Workout
Cross My Heart's Pegasus Wings Memorial Workout
"You seem to love throwing a wrench in the plans Ripley Marsh. A good wrench on our part, but perhaps a bad one for everyone else." Brooks cast a sharp look at the owner, trainer of Witch Creek Stable and the love of his life. The auburn haired woman sat proudly aboard her equally proud black mare. She looked every inch a happy woman. Brooks knew March and April had been hard on her, but May... May would be a different story... Hopefully.
Cross My Heart, last year's winner of the Debutante Stakes, nickered excitedly as she stepped between the two lines of press. Her tail waved high in the air and she pranced in a heart-breaking way. Ripley's white smile beamed as the reporters snapped photos of her beloved turf sprinter. While the press wasn't all for her, Cross deserved every inch of camera time she could get. Ripley was simply happy that Cross had finally settled into life at Green Horse Fields.
In Front had never needed time to settle at this track. At home, the blaze-faced colt was a terror, particularly to his sire, but here, on this long track, In Front had been home after the first hoof. The Touch Up colt strode alongside the excitable mare, big ears flicking around his surroundings. The press didn't bother him. Neither did the crowd. In Front was practically in his own little world. Brooks patted the colt's muscled neck, secretly ecstatic that Ripley had put In Front's name in the entries box.
The mare and colt picked up a canter the second they cleared the press and joined the melee on the track. Cross whinnied triumphantly causing more than a few horses to turn and assess the newcomer. Ripley wrapped her fingers in the pitch black mane, grimacing slightly when Cross threw a buck before settling down. Her spirit was priceless. Her quick strides carried her head to head on the inside of In Front. He was massive compared to the nearly-Arab mare, but he wouldn't be able to outfoot her at the start. No one could hold a candle to the black mare.
Knowing this, Brooks let his strong colt to do his own thing, not urging him at all. His strides were big and powerful, longer than Cross' so he could keep pace if he chose to. Touch Up's fiery attitude did not extend to this one under saddle. Brooks liked his cool logical horse, liked his courage and brawn. He was a war horse in the sense that big fields and commotion didn't rustle him up. For Cross they could, but she simply chose to run them off their feet before they caught her.
Ripley intended to keep the six furlong workout brief and to the point. In Front had been training like a fiend, his gallops extending to two miles daily. Anything to keep him calm and relaxed at the barn. It was working and he looked better than he'd had all season. The auburn haired woman wanted this workout finished, wanted to not worry about anything until those gates opened in the derby and she sent two of her best horses and closest friends into the race of their lives.
Cross My Heart flew beneath Ripley, knowing immediately through body language when it was time to go. She ran with her head and tail high, her eyes brimming with fire and excitement. A tornado wouldn't have caught her. Ripley ducked down behind the mare's neck, relishing the adrenaline as her swift-footed mare did her damage. She peeked under her shoulder, smiled at In Front who ran bravely into the kickback.
Brooks hid himself behind In Front's massive neck as clods of dirt smacked the colt's dark bay chest. Brooks rapidly twisted the reins, nearly chuckled at the agility of his big mount who leaped over Cross My Heart's hooves to again be outside of her. Touch Up's brawny colt loped along one stride for every flying stride of Cross My Heart's. He settled back a length, but kept himself clear of the flying dirt. Brooks let him take a breather as they galloped powerfully through the backstretch. There were three and a half furlongs remaining. Cross' talent was to simply kick away from her opponents in the stretch as though they'd been standing still.
Ripley could feel In Front breathing fire on her mare's haunches. Brooks was following her instructions to a "T." Cross' ears had long since pinned, so annoyed was she to have company. It was a good workout technique though. It would teach Cross to not crumble under pressure. And she wasn't crumbling. If anything, her strides had quickened, her will to crush In Front had reached a couple notches higher. Ripley guided Cross slightly off the rail, forcing the black mare to run further and through her, In Front.
The blaze-faced colt would have leaned heavily on Cross if Brooks hadn't corrected him. He wasn't above intimidation, especially when he sensed his opponent had an advantage. Brooks shook the reins once, thrilling when the colt bounded to run head and head with the slim mare at the top of the stretch.
Cameras and videos clicked and whirred as the sleek mare and brawny colt thundered down the stretch. Each horse had their ears pinned, but neither was under a drive. In fact, though their speed was immense, their appearance was effortless. It was a "wow" performance they were putting on before the on-lookers.
The pair bolted beneath the finish line, head and head. It didn't matter who had won for the true race lay just a week ahead. Brooks gave his colt a hearty slap on the neck. "Woohoo boss! Now that's what I like to feel." He bumped his fist with Ripley just before Cross sped away with a buck and a squeal, her typical tantrum when she didn't get to crush her opposition. He laughed, whispering, "Some horses are never happy with a tie."
Cross My Heart, last year's winner of the Debutante Stakes, nickered excitedly as she stepped between the two lines of press. Her tail waved high in the air and she pranced in a heart-breaking way. Ripley's white smile beamed as the reporters snapped photos of her beloved turf sprinter. While the press wasn't all for her, Cross deserved every inch of camera time she could get. Ripley was simply happy that Cross had finally settled into life at Green Horse Fields.
In Front had never needed time to settle at this track. At home, the blaze-faced colt was a terror, particularly to his sire, but here, on this long track, In Front had been home after the first hoof. The Touch Up colt strode alongside the excitable mare, big ears flicking around his surroundings. The press didn't bother him. Neither did the crowd. In Front was practically in his own little world. Brooks patted the colt's muscled neck, secretly ecstatic that Ripley had put In Front's name in the entries box.
The mare and colt picked up a canter the second they cleared the press and joined the melee on the track. Cross whinnied triumphantly causing more than a few horses to turn and assess the newcomer. Ripley wrapped her fingers in the pitch black mane, grimacing slightly when Cross threw a buck before settling down. Her spirit was priceless. Her quick strides carried her head to head on the inside of In Front. He was massive compared to the nearly-Arab mare, but he wouldn't be able to outfoot her at the start. No one could hold a candle to the black mare.
Knowing this, Brooks let his strong colt to do his own thing, not urging him at all. His strides were big and powerful, longer than Cross' so he could keep pace if he chose to. Touch Up's fiery attitude did not extend to this one under saddle. Brooks liked his cool logical horse, liked his courage and brawn. He was a war horse in the sense that big fields and commotion didn't rustle him up. For Cross they could, but she simply chose to run them off their feet before they caught her.
Ripley intended to keep the six furlong workout brief and to the point. In Front had been training like a fiend, his gallops extending to two miles daily. Anything to keep him calm and relaxed at the barn. It was working and he looked better than he'd had all season. The auburn haired woman wanted this workout finished, wanted to not worry about anything until those gates opened in the derby and she sent two of her best horses and closest friends into the race of their lives.
Cross My Heart flew beneath Ripley, knowing immediately through body language when it was time to go. She ran with her head and tail high, her eyes brimming with fire and excitement. A tornado wouldn't have caught her. Ripley ducked down behind the mare's neck, relishing the adrenaline as her swift-footed mare did her damage. She peeked under her shoulder, smiled at In Front who ran bravely into the kickback.
Brooks hid himself behind In Front's massive neck as clods of dirt smacked the colt's dark bay chest. Brooks rapidly twisted the reins, nearly chuckled at the agility of his big mount who leaped over Cross My Heart's hooves to again be outside of her. Touch Up's brawny colt loped along one stride for every flying stride of Cross My Heart's. He settled back a length, but kept himself clear of the flying dirt. Brooks let him take a breather as they galloped powerfully through the backstretch. There were three and a half furlongs remaining. Cross' talent was to simply kick away from her opponents in the stretch as though they'd been standing still.
Ripley could feel In Front breathing fire on her mare's haunches. Brooks was following her instructions to a "T." Cross' ears had long since pinned, so annoyed was she to have company. It was a good workout technique though. It would teach Cross to not crumble under pressure. And she wasn't crumbling. If anything, her strides had quickened, her will to crush In Front had reached a couple notches higher. Ripley guided Cross slightly off the rail, forcing the black mare to run further and through her, In Front.
The blaze-faced colt would have leaned heavily on Cross if Brooks hadn't corrected him. He wasn't above intimidation, especially when he sensed his opponent had an advantage. Brooks shook the reins once, thrilling when the colt bounded to run head and head with the slim mare at the top of the stretch.
Cameras and videos clicked and whirred as the sleek mare and brawny colt thundered down the stretch. Each horse had their ears pinned, but neither was under a drive. In fact, though their speed was immense, their appearance was effortless. It was a "wow" performance they were putting on before the on-lookers.
The pair bolted beneath the finish line, head and head. It didn't matter who had won for the true race lay just a week ahead. Brooks gave his colt a hearty slap on the neck. "Woohoo boss! Now that's what I like to feel." He bumped his fist with Ripley just before Cross sped away with a buck and a squeal, her typical tantrum when she didn't get to crush her opposition. He laughed, whispering, "Some horses are never happy with a tie."