Literature
All speed, No control
It was six o'clock. The events will be starting at any second. I snapped the strap of my helmet, securing it into place as I walked up to meet Mom, where she was standing with my horse. "Hey Breezie," I greeted, as I patted the mare's marble neck. I checked the cinch, tightening it a little bit to make sure the saddle wasn't going to slip. I wiggled the saddle, checking to see if there was any free movement. Satisfied, I grabbed a fistful of mane, shoved my foot in the stirrup and stepped up, swinging my other leg over her back.
The announcer rang through the overhead speakers: "Class number 67, Speed and Control, is up next," They proceede