"A secret weapon?! No way, so cool!"
Urara's eyes sparkled with excitement. But despite my playful tone, my heart was heavy with the weight of my own desperation. My "secret weapon" was actually something very simple.
"Starting today, for a little while… I'm running with you."
I gave her a thumbs-up. If this were baseball, I'd be the "player-manager" stepping up to the plate.
Naturally, there's a massive gap in speed and stamina between a human and a Horse Girl. I couldn't beat Urara even in a short sprint. My plan was to have her run middle-distance or longer, and once she started flagging on the final straight, I'd jump in to pace her.
This training had two goals: to build her stamina, and to spark a sense of urgency. I wanted her to think, 'Am I really going to let a human beat me?'
Urara was growing faster than I'd anticipated, but she had a glaring weakness on the track: a total lack of competitive instinct. Compared to other girls, she simply lacked the obsession with winning.
I had actually tried to beg Trainer Kiryuin to let us borrow Happy Meek—who can run on dirt—but I was turned down. Meek is scheduled for the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies in early December, and they need to focus entirely on that. Kiryuin actually seemed interested in the idea, but I suspect Meek herself wasn't keen on it. Helping Urara might be good for us, but it wouldn't do anything for Meek's own training.
My other peers only manage girls who specialized in turf, so I couldn't ask them for help either. And I couldn't exactly ask the senior trainers, as their girls were the very ones Urara would be fighting against in the Maiden Races.
(I'm agonizing over how to get a single win in a Maiden Race, and Kiryuin is already looking at a G1… It's enough to make a man cry.)
The Hanshin Juvenile Fillies is one of the few G1 races held for the Junior Class. Kiryuin was treating the Saffron Sho in late September and the G3 Artemis Stakes in late October as mere stepping stones for Meek to reach that G1 peak.
By comparison, since Urara is a dirt specialist, my original goal had been to win her debut, take our time training, and then aim for the Nadeshiko Sho in late October or the Oxalis Sho in early November. Dirt races are rare, and dirt sprints—Urara's specialty—are even rarer. I had dreams of the JBC Ladies' Classic in her Classic year or the JBC Sprint in her Senior year… but since we lost her debut, all those plans needed an overhaul.
If we don't break through the Maiden Race first, we can't even enter an Open race, let alone a Graded one.
And so, I explained the plan to Urara.
"Trainer's gonna run too? Yay! That sounds like so much fun!"
Urara cheered, hopping up and down with her hands in the air. My face twitched at her reaction—"fun" wasn't exactly the competitive fire I was looking for—but I started my warm-ups regardless.
For this session, I had Urara running a middle-distance dirt course. By making her run further than her upcoming race, I hoped to build her endurance while using my "Substitute Me" strategy to bait her competitive side.
"What's the matter, Urara?! Come on, try and pass me!"
"Hah… hah… Wow, Trainer! You're… you're really fast!"
Urara is a sprinter; even a Mile is pushing her limits. I was pushing her to run 2,000 meters, and by the final 100 meters, she was completely spent. Even with me running beside her, she couldn't find that extra gear.
Just to be clear: I am a trainer, not an athlete. I was in sports clubs in middle school and kept active during my certification, but I'd be lucky to hit the low 13-second mark on a 100-meter dash. I'm fast for a normal guy, but running on dirt saps your speed instantly.
When we first started training, Urara would get so tired in anything over a sprint that you couldn't tell if she was running or walking. She's improved a lot since then, but in those final 100 meters, I was actually slightly faster than her.
But having me run alongside her just made her happy. There wasn't a shred of competitive spirit to be found. She just chased after me with a giant grin.
Hearing her shout, "Wait for meee!" while reaching out with both hands was adorable, but I wanted to scream, "That's not the point!"
As I stood there trying to catch my breath after the finish, Urara approached me, beaming.
"That was amazing, Trainer! You were so, so fast!"
"Hah… hah… Don't… hah… don't just say I was fast… and leave it at that…"
Urara was already recovering her breath, while I felt like my lungs were on fire. Running a 100-meter sprint is hard enough, but doing it on dirt doubles the strain on your legs and back—minimum.