•Kick The Dust Up•

Show Day

I used to think that the best feeling in the world was the second before the chase.

That moment when you have 1500 pounds of sheer muscle dancing between your fingers. And the rest of the world suddenly seems small. Holding back so much energy that your arms are shaking and the creature beneath you is shivering with the will to run.

When you can feel this animal shift and prance between your legs and you know that with one tap of your heels you will be flying.

The mass of muscle and sweat beneath me is my favourite thing in the world. His golden coat glimmers in the sun and his pearl white hairs ripple with the muscles of his arched neck.

The shoot.

The most intimidating part of the whole experience is the lead up to the action. Trying to keep him from exploding before the line between disqualification and a great run. Nearing this thin line I get ready for the pressure of the presentation. I pull my black nylon reins into one hand and tighten my hat before gripping my hand to the solid horn.

I love this sport for many reasons but above all I love it because I am dancing with death.

I have seen it happen. There are falls and fails, and there is nothing you can do to prevent yourself from a wreak. All you can do is hope, and pray that the animal beneath you can bring you home safely.

My mount chomps on his bit in frustration and all I can hear are the sounds of his hooves striking the ground and the clang of metal against tooth.
As I reach the invisible line I throw my tight reins towards his perked ears and click my spurs against his gold sides tightening my grip as my horse springs to life.

Taking off at a full gallop we run down the shoot and towards the arena, muscle memory taking over, I tuck my back and become one with my horse. As we enter the arena I arch my golden beast toward the first red and white barrel.
As my foot becomes even with the barrel only inches away I check his speed and allow him to tuck and spin around my first barrel.

Turn'n burn they say.

I kick my legs up push on towards the next barrel, gaining as much speed as I can in between, the pound of my heart and his hooves is the only thing I can hear as I half halt and one eighty around my second barrel.

Two down one to go.

I kiss him on towards my final barrel. I slow down and spin around my third barrel, mentally applauding myself for a clean run and throw both of my hands on the reins asking for all the speed that he has left.

He roars to life and flips into fifth gear going a speed that I'm quite sure most of the audience didn't realize he had in him.

I hear a loud beep as we pass the timer line and I slow him as we make our way back down the shoot.

By the time we reach the end my golden stallion is prancing once again proud of his accomplishments.

"And there we have it folks, there was Sierra Bluebrooke on Hollywood Playboy with a time of 15.32. Looks like we have a new time to beat." A crackling voice over the loud speakers states.

I rub on Hollywood's neck thanking him for not killing me and letting him know that we did it again.