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Date Posted: 06:10:20 11/26/01 Mon
Author: Rachel + Legacy
Subject: *A girl rides in at a walk, the horse listening to her every signal.*

*She trots him around the outside of the barrels. Soon, she asks him to walk, and walks him around once. She asks him to jog, and takes him in the middle away from all of the people running their horses. She jogs him in a circle, and, as soon as he softens up, she lets him go back onto the rail. Then, she walks him over to the barrels, and patiently waits her turn. Once they are up, Legacy not sweated, but you can tell by the look in his eye that he wants to fly around the barrels. Yet, she asks him to trot around the barrels, their turns perfect, him bending around the barrels, looking like he is going to hit them every time, but you know he won't, for this is the look of a true barrel racer, a horse who's been around the block a few times. But he is unaccustomed to this new method, asking Rachel, "Why must you keep me so slow?" With the way he is pulling on the reins. She answers him* You shall see, Legs, because you'll be the one who's fresh around the barrels the night of compteition, not the one rippin and tearin in practices, who's burnt out from runnin so hard. *He takes this into consideration, and bobs his head in agreement. "I've never been trained this way before." And that is all he says, for they are rounding the third barrel, and trotting down the homestretch, his feet like silver pistons, just waiting to break loose of a trot. Every day they practice this, until he rounds every barrel with precision, his endurance built up. He is fresh from just trotting, and finally understands the great intelligence of her choosing this method. After two weeks of practice, he is ready to go, but there is not yet a comptetition, so they keep up their jogging ritual.*

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