Bow Echo

My name is Bow Echo and they tell me I’m a racehorse. They say I’m the next big thing in racing, and that I’ll go down in history as one of the greats. I don’t know what any of that means I just know I’m a horse, and my job is to run. 

They like me because I do as I’m told. They say I’m calm, confident, composed. What I really am, is just coping. I’m three years old, just a child really, and I’ve figured out how to survive in this world. I run, and when they hit me, I run faster. I have to fight my way out of packed herds of other horses when all my instincts tell me that staying in the centre is the safest place. But I know what the whip means – it means move faster than you want to, faster than feels safe and faster than your body says you can. 

I’m a legend now, at three years old, and they say the best is yet to come. I’m not sure what happens next. Maybe next year, maybe the one after, maybe never I’ll get to stop running. Maybe what waits for me after the track is worse than what’s on it. I wonder if I’ll cope there like I cope here. The only thing I feel sure of is that coping is the best I can hope for. I’ll almost never get to thrive. 

My name is Bow Echo. I am someone.