Showstopper

I hear the cheering even before it begins.

The stable-hands fluttering about around me mean nothing when my eyes are glued to the ring, watching and waiting for my name to be called over the intercom. They tug and pull at my tail, making sure my outward presentation is in pique condition, but I pay them no attention, focusing in on the drone of human mumbles from their seats, listening to it echo off the large and empty space. My rider approaches me, scratching me behind the ear and looking off in the direction I am trained on, chuckling softly as he runs his palm down my mane, patting my neck and sending dust particles every which way. The way they reflect off the morning rays peeking through the small, clean windows of the barn means zilch when I know there is a world calling my name behind those closed oak doors before me.

I can already taste the sweat before I have even perspired, feel the dirt clogging up my nostrils before I've even trailed fire through it. The chatter of those pampering me melts away into white noise whenever I think of the arena, the lights, and the cheers. The smell of sweat and desperation always makes way for the sweet, alluring softness of red roses right before those doors open- reminding me of what I am running for, what I am working for. My work won't cease until those roses are draped over my back, where I will begin again; working, running, pushing my limits.

My rider approaches me once more, offering me a mint to which I deny, turning my face away. His hand drops back to his side, a knowing gleam in his eye and a small smile playing across his chapped lips. He knows I don't bother with the pampering - I merely let them do as they please until it's time to woo the crowd. As he walks away I return to my normal stance, ears swiveling and trying their best to pick up on the laughter of people awaiting my emergence from behind those doors.

For now, I will allow them to poke and prod at me, to send me soft words of encouragement and praise me for my efforts. Their words mean nothing until I win, for my soul is truly set on the screams of the crowd, the sand under my hooves, and the booming sound of the room cheering my name.