I close my eyes and hear the wind in my ears, feel the soft tickle as the breeze stirs my mane. My hooves are aching as they hammer the ground, but my legs will not stop. I will not stop. The hurdles race towards me, or I toward them. I no longer know, for I am one with the track. The sweet, sticky sugar cubes fuel my body and soul as I leap over the hurdles and the crowd lets out a roar of approval. I am no longer just a track Horse. I am Flappy Horse.