Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2013 2:09:41 GMT -5
Beyond Perfection, Y14 Upper Deck Derby
w/ Chatoyant.
With the lineage of Ella’s mother’s once prized Stallion, Beyond Perfection had been a welcomed edition to their small but dedicated stable. He was older, and it was likely he would never get the record to become a champion before he was 5 or 6, but so far his minimal record had been a positive suggestion at what was to come. He was elder than the majority of his field, and this gave him a muscle mass and maturity level that could prove to be the decider of his future. Ella wasn’t willing to give up on him for his age, as she knew all too well some horses still had successful winning careers at as old as eight. Perhaps Bee could be one of the rarities that still managed to race at their prime, well past the age of five or six? Nobody was going to doubt it, the potential was there, it just had to be brought out.
The dark stallion stood carefree beneath the shade-tarp of his yard, watching with an apparent disinterest as Ella would let herself into the gate. She strolled towards him, halter in hand, admiring the greyhound tuck to his stomach, the sloping shoulders, and the rounded haunches; her hand reaching out to brush his shoulder in greeting. However, although it seemed Bee was going to stand willingly, he quickly came to realise halters meant work- and so, as suddenly as the wind could change, the dark stallion spun on his hinds and went trotting to the opposite end of his yard, snorting proudly. Ella sighed impatiently, shaking her head as he threw the lead out towards him, lunging him off and away from her, “You want to go away? Well, go right away!” It was the tactic that worked for every cheeky horse that hated to be caught. You work them around you until they realise that it is so much easier just standing and having a halter put on.
But Bee was persistent.
He was a physically strong horse, with a mouth as stiff as a wooden board; when you rode it him it was usually a challenge of vigour, since for most young women, using two arms in an effort to steer him left was never truly enough. Marion was convinced you could hang ten people off one reign and he would not feel the slightest pressure to yield his head. And it seemed he was as stubborn at mind as he was at body! It was over 30 minutes of lunging before he began to consider giving in. Shifting muscles would flex and stretch beneath a chocolate coat, glimmering with the splendour of every dime he was worth, strange star gazing out between honey eyes; a kindness to his gaze that told nothing of the cheeky nature he bore. He would halt, turning to face her, nostrils flared as if to say ‘Okay, can I stop now?’ Ella rewarded him by lowering her eyes and turning her shoulder away from him, and with the instinct of an equine Beyond Perfection would walk willingly to breathe at the back of her neck. “I win,” she muttered lowly, proudly, reaching around to rub affectionately between his eyes.
In the saddle, Bee was as eager to go as he always was, his head waving up and down in a fight for his freedom of rein. Ella was still learning to keep ontop of him, and just to be safe her mother walked by his side, leading him onto The Wire’s workout track. He was a very strong stallion, but with a few tips and tricks, the young jockey had proven to be quite successful in maintaining his muscle and attitude. Marion would release him, and Ella would rise to the buoyant trot that quickly broke into a canter; he was easier to maintain when he was faster paced. With no desire to tire him before race day, Ella would ease him along at a moderate canter; the brawly stallion tucking his head to his chest, avoiding the pressure against his mouth, powerful shoulders striking out with admirable elegance. However it seemed Ella wasn’t alone, Bee’s pace becoming sharper as the young jockey became aware of another horse gaining on them. It was the new colt, Chatoyant, and aboard him, the young gentleman her mother had introduced her to as ‘Sunny’. Strange, Ella wasn’t even aware that Marion had requested he do work outs for them, but there was nothing to complain about.
The Grey 2yo was positioned just by Bee’s quarters, his heavy breathing suggesting it was taking the juvenile a lot of effort to keep up. Bee saw the colt as competition, and attempted to push onwards, trying to lose the new addition with all his effort. However Ella did her best to hold him back, and eventually managed to get the stallion to slow, giving Chatoyant the opportunity to come up to his side; but the colt backed off also, remaining with his nose by Beyond perfection’s hips, Tayo’s leggy strides maintaining a rhythmic drumming, balanced and equal even in his canter. Ella couldn’t but glance behind at the small colt, his captivating colour and impressive form no less than appealing. She made a hand gesture towards Tayo’s jockey, suggesting she was going to push into a gallop and move on, but Sunny shook his head. Apparently she was required to wait. Bee carried on, nostrils wide, his stride seeming relaxed and casual, his fitness and maturity far greater than the spidery colt that strode by his side.
It had been roughly four furlongs of cantering before Ella would release her hold against Bee’s mouth, and he certainly didn’t need an invitation to kick into a gallop, eager to win the imaginary race against the unfamiliar 2yo. His stride lengthened and his lungs expanded, broad chest pounding as his dark legs would stretch and shrink beneath his heavy body, dirt spraying up in the wake of Tayo and his exerciser. It seemed the young colt was long lost, however just when Ella presumed the duo gone, Chatoyant’s huge strides would bring him back to the shoulder of Bee; likely due to the gradual increase in speed he so often presented, as opposed to Beyond Perfection’s bursting of energy. Wow! What a juvenile to be able to catch a seasoned 4yo. The little colt ran well, his motions greyhound-like as he held his position at the side of his peer, however upon the knowledge that Tayo was a sprinter, Sunny would urge him back to a canter; having to deal with the young thoroughbred’s eagerness to stay with his ‘buddy’, as the colt would eventually fall back.
Bee powered on, his confidence boosted as he presumed he had out-run the smaller colt. Three furlongs of galloping had passed before Ella would become satisfied, having to put all of her weight behind slowing the proud stallion back to a canter, and eventually a trot. He had done well! Sweat clung to his neck, veins bulking beneath dark skin as his rippling form of maturity would create the divine image of power Ella knew Bee would grow to become. “Good job, boy,” she was so happy with him, and just as confident that he could potentially take out a win in The Upper Deck Derby. He was fitter now than he had ever been, and at 4 years old this could only be the start!
