BACK AGAIN?

[S u N f r O s T ~]

The chestnut three year old shifted underneath me, testing my hold on him. It was firm, he realized, so stopped at once. He respected me, and wouldn't fight for his head unless my hold was weak. This was good; I could perfect my riding style just by working with him for a bit.

I could feel his muscles humming readily beneath my legs. He was ready to go at the barest of urgings. He needed to let some energy out. His start to the season had been good, but now he was beginning to lack in performance, and that was bad. He had talent, and he had used it before, but he was a high maintenance colt. He needed to be worked often if he was to do well. The purpose of this short workout - just a four furlongs breeze - was to get his spirits up and his record back on track.

I squeezed with my legs for a canter as soon as we entered the track. Positively Precious responded my lowering his head and increasing the size and pace of his stride. We flew up the track, him adjusting his stride every so often. Sometimes he would extend it to stretch a muscle; other times he would make the stride smaller just to see if he could maintain it. He warmed up very quickly, which I was grateful for; I had a lot of horses to work today.

It was sunny and relatively warm, which had convinced me to jump back in the saddle. I had been taking a break the past couple of weeks, and the horses had suffered during that. Their records were dipping, and SOPS had to maintain their high quality stock - so I was back in the saddle once more and ready to work to get the glory back.

The Unicorn Horn series was being run in a couple of weeks, and while Cobalt wasn't entered he needed to start making himself a stake runner if he was to run in it some day. I wanted to help him along the best I could, but a lot of the process of becoming a champion was up to him. He had to prove it to the world that he was becoming better.

We were close to the gates now. I hesitated, and then rode the colt straight past. The gates were time consuming, and I had very little time. The colt was moving smoothly now, his muscles warmed up and stretched out. His strides were longer, more ground eating, and he was now putting pressure to the bit. I decidedly urged him into a gallop as we rounded the turn, and the feeling of smoothness that always came with the gallop happened slowly.

The smoothness became harsh speed as we entered the backstretch. The colt wanted to run, and even if he trusted me he wouldn't stop. I held him in on a tight rein, my crouch over his withers weak, undefined. It signaled for a slow gallop, and the colt knew that, but he wouldn't have it. Frustration spilled like water into his movements. Why was I restricting him? Surely I thought the feel of speed was addicting too? Yes, I shared his viewpoint, but it was not enough to potentially injure the colt by letting him have it his way.

Cobalt's frustration mounted until it was like a tsunami. We were in the middle of the backstretch, and now, with only a half mile to go, I let him rip. The colt actually hesitated, so surprised was he, before taking the bit and running away with it. My crouch became strong, defined, and well measured - it absorbed the movements of the gallop easily, and didn't waver at all as wave after wave of speed was felt through it.

My eyes watered slightly, but had long since built up a resistance to the endless air whipping into them. My hair flew out behind me; Cobalt's mane whipped my fingers holding the loose reins. We were flying unrivaled; this was the breeze I wanted from the colt. He needed to win. He needed to become a champion. He felt this, knew this, and was proving it to me and all that were watching that he could.

We flew around the last turn at a whistling pace. It scared me slightly - the colt had grown, sure, but where had this come from? I had never tapped into this pace before, but by golly if this was what he had to offer then he could win the Unicorn Horn Classic against Bank On Silver herself!

We tore past the finish wire at the blistering pace, and then the tightening ceremony began. First you had to sit down firmly, and then begin to rein in the horse. Otherwise, Cobalt wouldn't listen. I was lucky today, though. He was used to slowing down after the wire. A broad grin plastered itself on my face as we went to a slow, dance-like canter.

The work had been a dream. We were back. Again.

[/blockquote]