Track Scratch

Last night at the track one of the Pony Girls(#4) was crying for retirement! She laid down in the starting gate...kicking her heels in protest. After she came out...she knocked her jockey down...ran off down towards the barn, bucking constantly in a wild frenzy. No one could get near her. She raged and demanded and protested as she swung her neck in defiance and bucked uncontrollably, sending yet another track employee to the ground. She was mayhem.
I felt sad for her... so sad... and as I watched the mayhem from the stands, Janis Joplin’s voice attached itself to already elevated emotions and over and over again it played: "Freedom's just another word for nothing else to lose...nothing doesn't mean nothing honey, if it ain't free"

I usually love the horse races. The air, the passion, the energy, the people, the risk, the tensions; the elations; but mostly the power and beauty and awesome powerfulness and grace of these magical creatures. But last night, I felt sad… this horse had gone beyond her rein…and her reign.

I found myself beginning to observe more closely and watch the reactions, if any, from the rest of the crowd. Those near to my vicinity seemed anxious… some had bets on this girl and were clearly annoyed by her brazen behaviour… “get her back in the gate”I heard one man demand…”5%%^$#!!! I have money on her…She really needs to be shut down… oh my God did you see what happened to the rider?... How long is it going to take to get this race back on?”…and on and on went the human voices mixing like water and oil with the sounds of Janice’s voice in my mind. I felt sick for her and inside, deep inside, a voice was yelling “run, girl, run….run for your life! I’m behind you! This is the race of your life…take it! Go!”

As it turned out, she was finally brought down to submissiveness and she was guided out, back to the barn. She walked with pride and defiance. She’s not coming back. I feel it.

I regrouped my energies/emotions returned to the race in question beginning…and “their off!”… the gun fired and the race was on. I felt guilt as I held the race ticket in my hand almost hoping that it would slip out from my hands and down between the seats…unreachable. I refocused on the horses as they rounded the last curve…down into the final stretch…my bet was near the end of the pack. I found a strange sense of satisfaction in that.
I gathered my gear immediately after that race…time to go home. Just like #4…scratched.

naomimantra naomimantra
46-50, F
Jul 15, 2010