"You had a good run today, didn't you, boy?" Barney snorted once and appeared to nod in approval. The ground was wet and soft.
Francisco loosened the cinch and placed the saddle on an oak rail in the barn. He dried Barney's chestnut coat and brushed him from head to tail. Francisco covered the two-year-old thoroughbred with a thermal horse jacket. Even a heated barn can drafts. Barney's First At Bat, as he would soon be known to the racing world, couldn't afford to catch a cold.
"Let me just check your feet there, boy. And, then you can relax." Francisco raised each of Barney's feet carefully and removed clumps of mud and sod with a hoof pick. They looked healthy, but they would need to be trimmed before racing season. The farrier had a standing appointment at the farm on the First of May - that would be soon enough. There was no need to have him schedule a special trip.
Francisco thought about Isabella as he walked back toward the house. It was getting dark now. He hoped that they would have a few minutes to speak at the party - a few minutes alone. He walked in through the side cloak room and left his boots on the floor to dry. "Definitely can't wear these, tonight!"
Glancing at his phone, Francisco checked the weather one more time: clear and cool with no wind. Perfect. He remembered the details from the last time that he looked, but he checked again anyway. "Details are important," he thought. "Never leave anything to chance."
The shower was hot. His muscles ached from a long day with the horses.
He didn't have to do this kind of work anymore - the farm had plenty of help, and he trusted the hired trainers, but he liked to be involved. He wanted to know firsthand how the horses were doing and to take a hands-on role in their training. Did any of them display signs of an injury? Did they need a change of diet? Should their routines be backed down or intensified in order to enhance their performance?
Barney was strong. Francisco would talk to the trainers in the morning about increasing his speed reps if weather conditions would permit it. Later, when his hooves were trimmed, they would reduce his workouts slightly. A horse on new shoes can slip while running at full speed on loose spring sod.
Francisco pulled on his leather coveralls and zipped them up tight. He fastened his phone into its Velcro pocket and jogged to the garage where the Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R was waiting. After snapping the strap of his helmet, he rolled the bike outside and checked the gauges while revving the engine. It had plenty of fuel, and everything was working perfectly.
Riding a racing bike is like flying an airplane at three-and-a-half feet off of the ground. There's no feeling in the world like it, not even racing a top thoroughbred in a crowded field. Francisco contracted the muscles in his legs and core and let his face and tongue relax. His breathing was deep and controlled. He needed to be free of tension and completely connected to the bike. The more he connected with his machine, the better he would connect with the road. Once he hit a zone, once body, mind and machine became one, he could cruise at any speed.
Isabella was still on his mind, but he couldn't think about her now. This moment was all about the road - every curve, every obstacle, every straightaway - be present, relaxed, and fully committed.
Later, as he lowered his speed and approached the private road to the Williams estate, Francisco did let one thought creep into his mind. It brought a smile to his already elated face.
"You can keep that overpriced Ferrari, Dad. I'm a bike man."
'The Horse Farm'
Copyright © 2015 Daniel R. South
All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment