Fifteen-year-old Kaylin Podmore has a pretty great life, basically everything a teenager living in Lexington, Kentucky could ever dream of. Her parents own one of the most successful Thoroughbred racehorse operations in the country and she has three...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
At 5:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, my alarm blares through my Google Nest Hub and I'm tempted to ignore it since I was up past midnight texting with Lucas even though we'd texted most of the day, surprisingly always able to find something else to talk about.
Despite my hesitation on Friday, the girls and I video chatted about my conflicted feelings later that night and the three of them helped calm any nerves I had about Lucas.
They told me to take things at my own pace, just to see where things go with him, and not let things like his past relationship with Nichole stop me from spending my time with him if that's what I really want to do.
So yesterday, I spent almost all day texting and even ended up sending Snapchats pictures back and forth with him, my nerves settling the more we talked.
"Stop," I groan to my Nest as I push my duvet down and climb out of my bed. I leave my bedroom and walk down to my bathroom where I get ready for the morning workouts.
After I finish up in the bathroom, I feel a little more awake since I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I go back into my bedroom to get changed out of my dark gray jersey camisole top with a v-neckline and white lace trim along the neckline and matching pair of shorts with an elastic waistband and white lace hemline. I grab a pair of white ankle socks, my black zip-up sports bra with a scoop neckline and a black pair of cotton boybriefs with binding along the waist and leg openings out of my dresser. I go to my closet and I pull my plum gray short sleeve fitted top with a quarter zip-up neckline and contrast stitching and my black pair of high-rise knit and compression breeches that have a wide waistband, faux back pockets, a rubberized grip on the knees and the Ariat logo along the left thigh before I leave to go to the laundry room where my paddock boots are.
I finally reach the filly and mare training barn and I find Rain Dancer's head hanging over the half door of her stall, watching the morning bustle, in the furthest inside stall on the left side, Magic's stall beside her empty since Magic is now at Churchill Downs.
"Good morning, Dancer," I greet the two-year-old filly, stroking her face.
Rain Dancer's an almost entirely black filly who has a black mane and tail beside the snip of white at the end of her muzzle. She is out of a 2012 mare Promise to Prance and her sire is a 2011 stallion named Rainstorm Splash. Dancer and Magic were foaled all but two days apart, Magic being the older one, and they became best friends in the paddock. She's still in training here at home, but she'll probably go to either New York or California during the summer for her first race.
"Ready to go to work?" I ask her, getting a nicker in return. "Alright, quick brush out and then I'll get you tacked up," I add to the filly while I get her clipped into the set of cross ties in the aisle across from her stall. I quickly brush and tack up Dancer before unclipping her and leading her down the aisle and out of the barn.
Once we're outside, I stop Dancer beside the mounting block to climb the few steps of the block and swing myself up over onto her back.
"Okay, let's go," I voice while nudging Dancer forward with a tap from my left foot.
