cholotehua

Sept 27, 2012 23:48:26 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2012 23:48:26 GMT -5

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GOLDEN GHOST

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workout with
TOBIAS LANCASTER
for the
CLOSE RACING STAKES
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He was a show-off, and had an ego the size of the moon but Tobias couldn't help but find himself liking this little colt. He had a spark to him, something a little bit mystical and his short stature coupled with the trademark thoroughbred head just gave him a pony-like look. Add this to the fact he was a color more commonly seen in quarter horses than thoroughbreds, and Golden Ghost was flashy, and a little funny. Tobias could see why PHS had bought him. He was just...endearing.

"He looks like he's posing. Just so you know." Skylark said to the small jockey seated on Golden Ghost's back. The colt in question had his head up, ears forwards, and one hoof raised up from the group. Skylark's expression betrayed the amusement he felt at that. "Anyways, Fancypants aside, this is a practice for the Close Racing stakes. Right now, he's in a field of four. The only other closer is Stalker's Glory. She's talented, but I'm sure you can get Ghost in behind her. She creeps up gradually, so let her think she's lost you. Let them all think that. Then, well, let him be the fancypants and steal it." The trainer said with a laugh, as Tobias fixed on his goggles and nodded.

Sweet Inferno had more than enough talent to steal the race, Tobias knew, as he brought Ghost into the gate. But Ghost had the power of surprise. With the field likely to be small, he would wait until the last second. Acceleration was the colt's best asset, and he could cover huge amounts of ground in a very short time. They'd hang back as far as Tobias dared, and give the crowd a show...in the final furlong, maybe half a furlong. It went against Tobias' instinct to wait so long, but this closer was one hell of a closer, and he worked best with one sudden burst, one very sudden, very short, surprising go at it, and Tobias was going to roll with that. It was just...nerve wracking to part of him to wait so long, even though he knew Ghost was capable.

The gates opened, and Ghost broke fast, but Tobias pulled him back and up. They needed to get behind the crowd, not with it, even it if meant breaking to a canter, or even a walk, they had to. Once his initial burst was contained, the blonde jockey got the palomino sabino back to the rail, and let him run, always holding him. It was like pressing down on a spring, it was. The further he pressed down, the more resistance he got, the more pressure that built up, and the further the spring would fly - and with more force - the minute he let go. He could feel it, building through the chest and the neck, in the way Ghost grabbed the bit, through the reins and into his veins, right into his heart. If Tobias were heart attack prone, this would be the point at which he went into cardiac arrest, but his bulimia hadn't taken a toll that far, yet.

He kept Ghost contained and on the rail through the majority of the mock race and the curve, feeling out his stride and searching for anything off. Injuries had been plaguing the circuit recently, and Tobias was only glad it wasn't a Prison Hill horse that had gone down. He was careful, but so far, he found nothing wrong with the speedy little thoroughbred.

The race they were prepping for was to be 11 furlongs, and so was this mock race. That meant Tobias held onto Golden Ghost, even as the pressure built, into the final furlong. Then, he took Ghost off the rail, and let him go. This would be the trickiest time in the race charting the perfect line to let Ghost go on, with minimal steering. With the track to themselves for now, though, Tobias was able to let the colt fly. Everything blurred, and it was like being launched from the slingshot of a giant - the word flew by. Ghost had an ability to sprint and come out of nowhere, and this is where he did it. Tobias let go, and let Ghost run - there was no guidance required in doing that.

The colt was sweat-soaked when he crossed the marker, but he still carried his head high and proud, as though waiting for a crowd to come and coo over him, or at the vest least, for a groom to come venerate him. When all he got was Skylark coming over and speaking to his jockey about race times, he looked a little bit offended, and the two humans had to laugh. "Wait for race time," Skylark assured the colt, "Then they'll be plenty coming to adore you."
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WORKOUT STATS