It wasn't often that they had an unraced horse so far into the year. The team had planned to get Oddball racing as soon as January hit, but they kept having setback after setback. First, it was clear that the filly still needed time to grow, to mature. So they'd set her debut for March, but that got pushed back once she developed a slight fever. Thankfully that was gone now, and they could finally get her onto the track. At least they didn't have to deal with running her through her gate test, that having been done since February when they'd considered racing her then.
The chilliness of March had finally given way to the warmth of April, and everyone was eager to be out in the nice weather. Instead of shipping her to the racetracks ahead of time with the rest of the string, it was decided that they'd keep Oddball at the stable until the week of the race. At least that gave them a bit more time to work with her at home where there were less distractions. The unusually colored filly glided across the dirt as she and her rider headed towards the starting gate, as if she was a dancer. Her ears pricked forward, eager to start running. She hesitated at the starting gate before realizing that it wasn't going to eat her. Bradley gave her a pat on the neck once they were inside. It took only a minute before the gates flew open, and instead of hustling out like every other horse would've, she started out slowly. The pair were the only ones on the track at the moment, so they didn't have to worry about the field getting away from them. Today's exercise was just getting her used to running again after two weeks off. Not that she really needed it, but there was no use getting her excited before they were at the track. They'd work her in company later. The spotted filly started to pick up speed as she ran, her ears pricked forward at the empty track in front of her. One of the tallest horses on the farm, her long legs propelled her over the dirt easily. She was a horse that clearly loved to run and that was the best kind of horse, one that loved their job. Bradley sat quietly on her back, knowing that there was no use in urging her to run faster than she was now. She had plenty of speed to head to the front when they needed to. But that was for the end, when the rest of the field had the same idea. The plan, as Bradley had been told by George that morning, was to let her run as fast as she could at the seven furlong pole. Let her run for the next two furlongs and then cool her out. Of course, things didn't always go to plan. The excitable filly spooked at a bird flying overhead, the shadow falling over them as it passed. It also didn't help that one of the farm's tractors backfired at the same instant. She took off at the five furlong pole instead, completely ignoring the cues to slow down. The one good thing about the situation was that they didn't have to worry about anyone else on the track. The white horse ran down the track as fast as she could. The poles passed by quickly, and he could only guess as to how fast they were going. It wasn't the steady fractions of when he was riding one of their classic distance horses, but the fast fractions of the sprinters running all out. Which in George's opinion, was way too fast for a two year-old in April. Not that there was much they could do about it now, but at least they knew she had the speed. It wasn't until the nine furlong pole came into view that the filly slowed down. Bradley managed to get the filly to walk once they passed it, patting her on the neck. The filly shook her head, not quite exhausted from the events. "I really hope that didn't ruin our chances," he told the filly. "At least we know you can run."
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