Running

by Alaborn

The Running – Second Year

Running

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

The Running – Second Year

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In Ponyville, winter was wrapped up, and spring began anew. Crops were planted, apple trees tended, and the barn painted. Sweet Apple Acres was ready to prosper.

And in his dreams, Big McIntosh was ready to run.

The familiar training continued unabated. In the dream world, despite the lack of pegasi, the weather remained warm well past the time of the first snowfall in Ponyville. It wasn’t even cold enough for frost to form. And so there was no off season for Big McIntosh the runner.

When the time came to board the container and travel to a race, he found himself wishing for a proper weather team. Frequent rain over the past days would make for poor running conditions, and the track he visited was thick mud. He looked over the other equines, recognizing some of their scents. They too would run. Their riders wanted to win. But Big McIntosh knew he had an advantage.

He wanted to win as much as his rider.

He went to the gate, ready to race. He recognized the advantageous starting position, and knew he should strike out to an early lead. His rider thought the same, and as soon as the race began, he took the lead.

Something felt wrong with one of his hooves. It wasn’t an injury. It was the kind of feeling that warranted an examination on a normal day at Sweet Apple Acres, but would be ignored at the height of cider season.

The race was too important to worry. He pressed on. He ran until he won. And he won in convincing fashion.

The bipeds caring for him would later marvel that he ran so well with a twisted horseshoe.

---

A second race, under much better conditions, resulted in another win for Big McIntosh. When his third trip for the year came, he anticipated much of the same. But this new venue felt different. The noise, which he thought he had gotten used to, was louder. There were more equines, many he didn’t recognize, and all as physically impressive as him.

And then there were the bipeds. It was not just the ones who cared for him and the other equines. There were crowds of them, and they were all focused on him.

He tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The crowds, the noise, the tension... it was his first race all over again. He started to panic. The bipeds who cared for him noticed, and every one of them focused on calming him. It helped a little, but only got worse when he went to the track. The noise was terrible. The crowds were even larger and louder. It looked like more bipeds than all the ponies in Equestria. The air was hot and ripe with the scent of the bipeds, the equines, mud, and for some reason, mint.

Oh how he craved a nip of fresh spearmint.

He continued to squirm until he felt a comforting touch upon his withers. “You need to save that energy for the race,” he heard his rider say.

The race. It was some race, much larger than any he had run before. Eighteen stalls held equines, which he knew because he counted as he went to the eighteenth and last occupied stall.

Despite the cotton in his ears, the noise made him nervous. And he wasn’t ready when the door opened. A prod on his flanks, his year of training kicked in, and he took off.

He remembered not to strain himself. He looked to his rider for guidance, and he led him to a place behind the two equines who had been first out of the gate. He could see they had the physical talents to win the race, but Big McIntosh had the will.

His opportunity came on the final turn. He raced along the outside, moving to overtake the other two. His body urged him to slow, but his mind said that he had the strength to run faster. And so he ran faster. First one, then the second equine fell behind him.

The others were still behind him when thousands of flashes of light surprised Big McIntosh. He had won the race, and thousands of cameras recorded the moment he became a champion. Despite the stress, despite the panic, he had still won.

A wreath of roses was placed around his neck to crown him champion. He turned and nabbed a succulent bud, enjoying its sweet taste.

---

Big McIntosh’s fourth race came two weeks later. He did not know if the race would be like the previous one, but he steeled himself to face aggressive equines and loud bipeds. And it was good he did, as the attention he faced seemed even greater.

The morning of the race, he could smell rain in the air, like when the weather ponies scheduled a heavy thunderstorm. But in this crazy world, he didn’t know when, or if, the rain would come. Even the thunder he heard predicted nothing.

Just before he was led to the track, the rain started, heavy rain that poured down in sheets. The earth beneath his hooves turned to mud in minutes. This time, he was in the inside stall, a bad place for the runner.

But Big McIntosh had proved he could win on a muddy race track. And he would do it again.

He was not eager to leave the shelter of the stall, but he was ready to run. And when the race started, he ran. He could barely sense the presence of the other equines. The rain impeded his vision, and the mud softened the sound of hooffalls. He felt his rider was as blind as he. But he knew the track, knew where it turned. He ran to win, and he won convincingly.

He declined to eat the yellow and black flowers placed around his neck, given the amount of mud they had picked up from his coat.

---

Big McIntosh didn’t return “home”. He stayed at the same track, the one where he won in the mud, where he continued to practice. He wondered why this was being done.

The answer came when the older biped spoke to two other unfamiliar ones during one training session. “He was comfortable running here,” he explained, “and there’s nothing more important than the colt’s comfort. In three weeks, he’ll be running the biggest race in his life. It’s a longer race than the previous two, but we know he has the talent and demeanor to win it all. He just needs to be physically and mentally ready. He wants to win as much as I do.”

The answer was directed to the bipeds, but somehow he knew the older biped was speaking to him, too.

---

The fifth race, the biggest race, was all that was on Big McIntosh’s mind in both the waking and dream world. He imagined it as a trip to the Equestria Games, the culmination of years of training and honing his special talent. He knew all about the Games, thanks to a certain pegasus who was always coming over for cider, but the feeling of being a champion was one that words could not describe.

But first, he had to win the race. That day finally arrived, a beautiful day for running, and Big McIntosh was ready to run. He focused on his body, and remembering the words of the older biped, focused on his mind. He needed to be comfortable, putting the stress and panic out of his mind. He leaned back against the stall, and almost missed that the gate opened.

He took off, earth churning under his hooves, as he ran. He would not be satisfied with a mere win. He wanted a dominating win. He pushed to the head of the pack, and was determined to stay there until the end.

Another equine pursued him, almost surpassing him. Big McIntosh was not worried. He recognized the signs of an equine running too fast, burning out his energy before the race was over. When he hit the wall, he faded fast.

Big McIntosh ran. He would win because he had the talent, the training, and the will. If this was his greatest race, he would give his greatest effort. He respected the other equines running behind him, but that was where they would have to be, behind him.

No equine seriously challenged Big McIntosh as he rounded the bend. With a final burst of speed, he crossed the finish line.

From there, the dream shifted. He was looking at himself, his strange equine self, and the small biped riding him. He saw flashes of the older biped and all the ones who cared for him and tended him. He saw their reactions, their sheer joy, at what he had accomplished. And then he heard a disembodied voice speak.

And here it is! The 37 year wait is over! American Pharoah is finally the one! American Pharoah has won the Triple Crown!

Big McIntosh saw one last thing, a stylized image of a pony running. A cutie mark. And with a smile, he awoke from Discord’s dream world for the last time.