Running

by Alaborn

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Big Macintosh, Discord, Slice of Life, Human, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fluttershy
Length: 6282

Big McIntosh is the heart of Sweet Apple Acres, a position thrust upon him by the death of his parents. But there was a time when he thought his destiny lay elsewhere. Now, Discord will give him a chance to experience what might have been.

Big McIntosh is the heart of Sweet Apple Acres, a position thrust upon him by the death of his parents. But there was a time when he thought his destiny lay elsewhere. Now, Discord will give him a chance to experience what might have been.

“What is this place? What am I? And what are those strange creatures?”

Published 2018-06-19 08:50:05 UTC
Last updated 2018-06-19 08:50:05 UTC

The Runner

Running

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

The Runner

There is one special day, as fall nears its end, when the ponies of Ponyville come together. Few ponies earn their livelihood from the bounty of the Whitetail Woods, but almost everypony participates in the Running of the Leaves. The race is the primary attraction, with a select group of racers competing for the fastest run. Yet it is the much larger number of slower runners who are more important, contributing their countless hooffalls to knocking the leaves off the trees, allowing them to safely lay dormant in the winter. Other ponies set up booths, providing food and drinks for the runners, or simply come to cheer their fellow ponies. The Running of the Leaves is a celebration enjoyed by all. Well, almost all.

Over in an isolated cottage near the Everfree Forest, two ponies who didn’t care for crowds chose to spend the morning in each other’s company. Big McIntosh and Fluttershy sat in Fluttershy’s living room, enjoying tea and the relative quiet. The chittering and squeaking of the pegasus’ animal friends was certainly better than the thundering of hooves.

“I hope we’re not making Discord jealous,” Big McIntosh said.

“After the incident at the Gala, I think he learned the lesson about having other friends. I’m sure he won’t mind me sharing tea with a mutual friend. Isn’t that right, Sir McBiggun?”

Big McIntosh snorted. “He’s still a provisional friend in my book, even if he makes for a good session of Ogres and Oubliettes.”

“I’m still surprised you’re not racing,” Fluttershy said. “I’m sure Sugar Belle would love to see you run across the finish line, all lathered and breathing heavily....”

Big McIntosh chuckled. “Racing’s for other ponies. Let Applejack and her little pegasus friend have their fun. Me, I’ll just enjoy the quiet.”

Fluttershy and Big McIntosh parted an hour later, after the race and festivities would have come to an end. The farm needed Big McIntosh’s attention, and Fluttershy always checked on the animals in the Whitetail Woods after the forest was again quiet. Once Big McIntosh was on his way, Fluttershy proceeded at a leisurely trot toward the Whitetail Woods.

Before she reached the forest, she spotted one of her raccoon friends running toward her at a rapid pace. The poor critter was panicking. He chittered to Fluttershy, his meaning hard to pick out, as he was nearly out of breath. Once she understood him, it was the pegasus’ turn to worry.

“A tree fell over? Your family is trapped in your den? Your mate is hurt? Oh my oh my oh my....” She planted a hoof firmly on the ground. “I will get help. Come here.”

Fluttershy picked up the raccoon in her forelegs and took to the air. She flew, reaching speeds that rivaled Rainbow Dash, as she went in search of the strongest pony she knew.

“Big McIntosh!” Fluttershy called once she reached Sweet Apple Acres. Hearing no response, she flew through the orchard, and then went to the farmhouse. But nopony was home.

“Twilight!” she shouted. She knew the alicorn’s magical power would be strong enough to lift even the biggest tree.

Fluttershy flew straight to the Castle of Friendship. She fortunately found Twilight Sparkle outside, talking with a group of foals. The alicorn still had twigs and leaves in her mane and tail from her own fun run with the foals.

“Fluttershy! What’s wrong?” Twilight Sparkle asked.

“A tree fell down in the Whitetail Woods and trapped Mr. Sharp Ear’s family and injured his mate!” she replied. “Can you come with me and save them?”

“Of course.” She turned to the foals. “I’m sorry, but I need to help my friend.”

The foals whined and muttered, but started to depart.

“I’ll teleport us to the edge of the Whitetail Woods,” Twilight Sparkle told Fluttershy. “Can you lead us after that?”

Fluttershy spoke to the raccoon, and nodded.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

With a pop, Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, and the raccoon reappeared at the edge of the Whitetail Woods. The smell of leaves and freshly disturbed soil hung heavily in the air following the work done in the Running of the Leaves. The raccoon pointed in a direction, and Fluttershy flew off.

Soon, they reached the fallen tree. A mighty oak, decades old, it now lay fallen on the ground. The broken wood of the stump revealed the rot, previously hidden, that caused the tree to fall when the ponies ran past it, shaking the ground.

The raccoon chittered and pointed. Twilight Sparkle concentrated and slowly lifted the fallen tree with her magic. Fluttershy scooped up the injured female raccoon, one hind leg clearly broken from where the tree landed on it.

Twilight Sparkle scanned the raccoon. “It looks like a clean break. I don’t see any internal bleeding.”

“You are one very lucky raccoon,” Fluttershy said to the hurt animal. “Let me splint your leg, and then I’ll take you to the veterinarian.”

The male raccoon now had two kits around his legs, and they all watched with worry as Fluttershy tended to the female. Meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle was studying the fallen tree, mentally noting who she would need to talk to in town to make sure no other trees presented a danger.

Twilight Sparkle’s ears perked as she heard somepony approaching. From the cadence of the hooffalls, it was somepony running. As far as she remembered, even the slowest ponies finished the race more than an hour ago. She got up to warn the runner about the fallen tree.

She watched the runner approach. The first thing she noticed was the runner’s form. She had read all about running before participating in her first Running of the Leaves, and so she remembered what she read about the mechanics of running. This pony’s form was perfect, with the graceful long strides that any professional racer would strive to execute. The second thing she noticed was who this pony was.

“Big McIntosh?”

Fluttershy looked up. “Big McIntosh! Please stop! It’s dangerous.”

Big McIntosh came to a halt, skidding in the leaves and loam. “Fluttershy? Twilight? What are you doing here?”

“The real question is, what are you doing here? I thought you said you didn’t like to run. Did you lie to me?”

“And why are you wearing that number?” Twilight Sparkle asked. He wore a paper with a number over his cutie marks, but this paper was old and yellowed.

Big McIntosh pawed the ground, looking for all the world like a colt with his hoof caught in the cookie jar. “I don’t want to run.”

“But you are a great runner!” Twilight Sparkle said.

“You’re running. You want to run,” Fluttershy said.

“It’s not something I can talk about,” he said quietly.

“But you want to talk about it,” Fluttershy said. “It’s bothering you not to talk about it.”

“Eeyup,” he said. He looked nervously at Twilight Sparkle.

“I want you to come by my cottage this evening, and we can talk,” Fluttershy said. “I won’t tell anypony. Pinkie Promise.”

“Even...?”

“Even Applejack.”

That evening, Big McIntosh sat at Fluttershy’s kitchen table as they shared dinner. Off to the side, the old racing numbers rested. Big McIntosh glanced at them as he ate.

“Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen,” Fluttershy said.

“Those were from the first time I signed up for the Running of the Leaves,” Big McIntosh finally said. “Ma and Pa said I could run once I turned ten. I always liked running. I even thought it might be my special talent, and I was sure that doing the Running of the Leaves would get me my cutie mark. So the first day they had sign-ups, I was there at town hall the moment it opened. Signed up right away. Got number 1. I was so excited.”

“But you didn’t run,” Fluttershy stated.

“That was the year that... that Ma and Pa passed. And Applejack wanted to go off and live in the big city with Aunt and Uncle Orange. It was at that time, looking at Granny Smith and baby Apple Bloom, that I knew I had to be the heart of Sweet Apple Acres. And that’s when I got this,” Big McIntosh said, motioning to his cutie mark.

“But you’re wondering what might have been. To race in all those big city marathons. To run for Ponyville in the Equestria Games.”

“Eeyup. But there’s no way I can know what might have been.”

“Au contraire,” said a voice from a figure who hadn’t been present a moment ago.

“Discord!” Fluttershy shouted.

“What? I can’t be moved by this big softy’s sad tale?” Discord said, wiping away an overly large fake tear.

“It’s not your business,” Fluttershy stated bluntly.

“As it happens, au contraire,” Discord said. “As a cosmic being, I have my claws in many different worlds. And I just happen to know of somepony, or rather someone, who is looking for the greatest equine racer. You see, there’s a title, given to a certain kind of champion runner, that hasn’t been given out for decades. And this gentlebeing desires more than anything to train this kind of champion. The only problem, you see, is finding the right equine. Somepony with heart, with will, and with what Sparklebutt says is the perfect runner’s form. So what say you?”

“No can do. I still can’t leave Sweet Apple Acres,” Big McIntosh said.

“Ah, but there’s the thing! You won’t need to leave at all! I will simply give you the opportunity to experience what might have been, while you sleep! On one side of the coin, you will be Big McIntosh, loyal and hardworking farmpony. And on the other, you will be Big McIntosh, champion runner. Surely you can see this arrangement will be to both of our satisfactions?”

“You tried to rule Equestria. Then you sold us out to that monster Tirek.”

“Water under the bridge,” Discord said, to the sound of a rushing river. “Why don’t I give you a sample?” He conjured up a cup of tea, and placed it in front of Big McIntosh. “Here’s a cup of Fluttershy’s famous chamomile tea, with a little something extra. Have a sip, and you’ll get a taste of your dreams. What say you?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“I never knew Sir McBiggun could be so cowardly,” Discord taunted.

“Give me that,” Big McIntosh said, grabbing the cup of tea. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip....

The first thing Big McIntosh noticed was the smell. The odor of dirt, dung, and unwashed ponies assaulted his nostrils. Then he experienced vertigo as his brain registered that he was seeing far more than he should. He looked ahead, and at the same time looked behind. Such things did not happen! There was a strange feeling in his sinuses, like there was something wrong with his muzzle. Focusing the vision from his wrong eyes, he saw his muzzle protruding much further than it should.

Once he focused on what he was seeing, rather than on how wrong it all felt, he could see several other ponies. Except they weren’t ponies. Their colors were all wrong, mostly being various shades of brown. They had muzzles that were far too long, and eyes on the side of their head, rather than their proper place in front. He felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach as he recognized that he was likely one of these mutant ponies as well.

He found a trough of water. It smelled stale, and had probably been used by these mutant ponies as a source of drinking water. None were using it right now, so Big McIntosh could see his reflection in the surface of the still water. As he feared, he looked like the other ponies. He had the same dull mane, same brown color, with only a faint star mark on his face distinguishing himself

Then, he noticed the others beings around, bipedal creatures. While he had never met them himself, he knew from his schooling about all the races that lived in his world, including various strange creatures who could somehow walk with only two legs. But these creatures looked nothing like the ones in his schoolbooks. They lacked the horns of the minotaur, the coats of the Abyssinian cats or yetis... in fact, they appeared to have no coats at all. Just bare skin, with a similarly narrow range of colors like those seen on his fellow equines.

One of these creatures, a smaller one by his estimation, approached him. Big McIntosh became aware of the saddle and harness he was wearing as the creature put one of his legs into a loop attached to his saddle. He used it to lift himself onto his back, sitting in the saddle. He opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was an annoyed whinny.

Then he felt the creature pull on the reins, the harness directing his sight to a dirt track ahead. He felt the legs of the creature on his back press on his sides, and he sensed the urge to move forward. More pressure from the creature, and he started running faster.

The track, Big McIntosh discovered, was just like the racing tracks used in the Equestria Games. Groomed dirt, perfect for hungry hooves to grip. And nopony was hungrier than him.

He raced. Big McIntosh raced, hooves pounding, claiming ground as he moved his strange body as fast as possible. He reacted to the movement of the creature on his back: a prod to the flanks indicating an increase in speed, a tug on the reins signaling a shift in lanes, a pull back telling him to slow.

He ran. Faster than he had ever ran before. He felt unwieldy, like he did as a colt when he first put on his father’s yoke, but he could still put four legs in motion. And when he ran with these other equines, each with one of these strange bipeds on his back, he recalled past dreams of racing. They were competitors, and he was going to finish the Running of the Leavers faster than them. And so he raced.

He raced all day, until the sun fell below the horizon. Then, Big McIntosh was herded into a stable, filled with more of these equines. He tried to speak, but he could not form words. It would have been a futile gesture, as these creatures reacted with a blank gaze, the look of the unintelligent swine living at Sweet Apple Acres.

He heard a sound, one he knew. The sound of feed being poured into a trough. Where pigs would rush to feed, now he joined the herd in rushing to feed.

He felt a sharp pain in his rear. One of the other equines, his competition, had bitten his tail. He turned to face his challenger, snorting in indignation.

“Eenope,” Big McIntosh said.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t it what you always wanted?” Discord said.

“I ain’t nopony’s mount,” he replied.

“Our dear Princess Sparklebutt is happy to serve as the loyal steed for her number one assistant. Surely you could do the same?” Discord said.

“I won’t be some unthinking beast for your amusement,” he replied.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I did specify equine, not pony,” Discord said. “And now, you get to see that there are many kinds of equines.”

“Not helping.”

“Fine by me,” Discord said. “I guess that equine that nipped your tail will just become the greatest runner that world will know.”

Big McIntosh leveled his eyes at Discord. “Send me back,” he said.

Author's Note

As you read, can you figure out what specifically is happening?

The Running – First Year

Running

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

The Running – First Year

Each night, as Big McIntosh dreamed, he would dream of the same world. A world where he couldn’t speak, but these strange bipeds could. He understood them; they spoke his language, even if he couldn’t speak in return.

And then there were the bipeds. Most treated them the way he would treat his pigs, speaking in simple words, though with no expectation that he would understand. He was fed simple food, hay and oats. He longed for more, such that when he was offered an apple, even though he knew it was far inferior to the apples he grew each day, he pushed to the fore to claim the sweet treat.

This was his alternate world: bland food, running, and rest. There were many of these bipedal creatures. There were many who rode him, and though they were different, he grew to recognize the similarity of their commands. The same physical cues would direct his movement, would alter his speed. He grew to recognize that the bipeds shared his desire to win the race. They positioned him to take a clear lead in one race, and then placed him pacing the leader in another race, waiting for the leader to tire before making his move. It was a lesson learned anew, a lesson once learned running against other colts around the schoolyard.

Other bipeds would care for him, brushing his coat, tending to his hooves. He didn’t enjoy being cared for like a little foal, but looking at the equines next to him, their dull expressions, he understood that he wasn’t expected to care for himself. He imagined himself at the Ponyville spa that Fluttershy raved about. These bipeds understood his needs. Their farrier ensured his hooves were protected against the running he did, and their doctors tended to even the slightest muscle strain.

There was one biped in particular who was different, an older specimen if gray coloring in the hair was an indicator of age like it was for ponies. He spoke to him, praised him, complimented his running form. The way he spoke, it was almost as if he expected that he would understand him. But then he would depart, and speak to others as if Big McIntosh weren’t there.

Each night, when he would turn in to sleep in his stable, Big McIntosh would then awake to the first light of Celestia’s sun and the familiar fragrance of Sweet Apple Acres apple trees. He would recall the feelings, remember what it was like to spend all day working to develop his special talent. Then he would put those thoughts behind him. Sweet Apple Acres needed him.

One day, things were different. Rather than being taken to the familiar dirt track, Big McIntosh was led into a metal container, maybe a little smaller than a train carriage. The interior was bare, unadorned stalls with little but loose hay on the floor. That was something he had noticed; here, the equines saw no need to sit, instead laying on the ground or even resting while standing with legs locked.

Big McIntosh stepped into a stall, seeing glimpses of his other home through the narrow slats on the container. There were no proper windows, either. Then, the entire container shook, vibrating as he heard and felt something far louder than a train engine. His nostrils were assaulted by a foul stench, one that always seemed to linger in the background of this world, but which now overwhelmed every other smell. Then, he started to move.

The vehicle moved as fast as a train, maybe faster, even though he couldn’t spot any rails. They traveled for hours. How long it was, Big McIntosh didn’t know, as he dozed off and on through the journey. Finally, they stopped, and he was eager to get out, to move, to run.

Big McIntosh saw some of the familiar bipeds—the farrier, the doctor, the smaller one who had often ridden him. But everything else smelled different, was different. The equines were ones he hadn’t met. They looked like the stallions he knew, with the same build and obvious strength in their muscular frames, but he had build up a familiarity, a camaraderie, with the equines he knew from his other home.

It reminded Big McIntosh of being introduced to the other ponies on the first day of school. He began to get nervous.

As he was led out to the track, he focused on that, the familiar act of running, that which he was born to do. But once there, he couldn’t help but hear the noise. While he was used to seeing these bipeds watch him run, here there were so many more. Too many bipeds to count, too many to even estimate a count. The noise they made was deafening. His ears folded back, but it did little to quell the sound.

“Here. Let me get this,” one of the bipeds said. And something was put on Big McIntosh’s head. It covered his ears, muting the noise somewhat, but it also restricted his vision. Having gotten used to the freakishly wide angle of vision of this equine body, being restricted to looking forward only worsened his panic.

The familiar weight of the rider on his back calmed him slightly. “Calm down, boy,” the rider said, patting his flank. “It’s your first real race, but you’ll do great.”

First real race?

He tried again to focus on the familiar, the line of stalls, each holding an equine, with a door that would open to signal the start of the race. But he was not prepared for the noise that came when the race started. The enormous crowd of bipeds roared louder than a manticore, and Big McIntosh jumped. He had trouble finding his hoofing in the dirt, and wasted several strides before he rose to a gallop. His rider didn’t help, giving conflicting signals that failed to help him build his rhythm. He strained to reach full speed, and while he was able to get there with only one other equine ahead of him, he already felt winded. It was the most basic lesson of running, and he had forgotten it.

Big McIntosh was further distracted by not being able to see. He could feel and faintly hear the equines around him, but he wanted to see them, to know how to react. The biped riding him had forward-facing eyes like a pony, but he could see behind them without turning his head. Except, now he couldn’t. He slipped further and further behind the leader, as other equines outpaced him.

In a longer race, like the Running of the Leaves, Big McIntosh was sure he could have caught up to the equines in front of him. But the race was short, and he crossed the finish line after four others.

Big McIntosh bowed his head in shame.

Back at his other home, Big McIntosh returned to his daily training. One such day was interrupted by an argument among several of the bipeds, which he picked up with his keen ears.

“You never should have used the blinder,” one said. It sounded like the older biped.

“He was obviously bothered by the noise,” another replied.

“He was still bothered while wearing the blinder! And you. You didn’t work with your mount!”

“I did my best, but he was excited.”

“This colt is the greatest runner I’ve ever seen. He moves with grace and precision. I need a jockey who can work with him.” That was the same older biped.

Later that day, Big McIntosh was ridden by a different one of the smaller bipeds. They looked similar, with the same dull skin color, the same dark tuft of hair atop their head, but he picked up on the different scent. As they raced, he realized this one felt right.

For a second time, Big McIntosh boarded the plain metal container, and endured a long trip to somewhere familiar yet unfamiliar. Here again there were unfamiliar equines, a loud crowd of bipeds, and a dirt race track. This time, his caretakers stuffed something soft in his ears. Cotton, he realized. The cotton effectively muted the sound of the crowd, and he was noticeably calmer as he lined up on the track.

He felt a comforting pat on the withers. “Let’s prove the boss right,” his rider said.

This time, Big McIntosh was ready when the gates opened. He charged forward, taking an early lead. He ate up the length of the track with his graceful strides. With a clear sense of the equines behind him, he sped up when they did, and shifted lanes to stop their attempts to overtake him. His rider shared his awareness of the track and was giving him the same signals, but he anticipated these commands.

This time, Big McIntosh finished the race with a commanding victory, just as he imagined his ten year old self would have done at the Running of the Leaves.

For the rest of the year, Big McIntosh raced, always with the same rider. He won his races. When he injured his hoof, the bipeds took care of him, putting a thin layer of some unknown metal on his hoof to protect it and his frog before nailing on his horseshoe.

Even with the protective horseshoe, his hoof pained him any time he tried to run. And that was it for the year. He raced no more. It was good timing, as they were approaching harvest and cider season, and Big McIntosh needed to focus on his life, his original life. His injury didn’t cross back to his original body, but he felt twinges of phantom pain as he bucked trees and ran the treadmill to power the cider press.

Back in the other world, the world of strange equines and bipeds, they worked to treat his injured hoof. The bipeds were positive, particularly the older biped. “You need to heal for next year,” he said. “Then, we will show the world how great a runner you are.”

The Running – Second Year

Running

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

The Running – Second Year

In Ponyville, winter was wrapped up, and spring began anew. Crops were planted, apple trees tended, and the barn painted. Sweet Apple Acres was ready to prosper.

And in his dreams, Big McIntosh was ready to run.

The familiar training continued unabated. In the dream world, despite the lack of pegasi, the weather remained warm well past the time of the first snowfall in Ponyville. It wasn’t even cold enough for frost to form. And so there was no off season for Big McIntosh the runner.

When the time came to board the container and travel to a race, he found himself wishing for a proper weather team. Frequent rain over the past days would make for poor running conditions, and the track he visited was thick mud. He looked over the other equines, recognizing some of their scents. They too would run. Their riders wanted to win. But Big McIntosh knew he had an advantage.

He wanted to win as much as his rider.

He went to the gate, ready to race. He recognized the advantageous starting position, and knew he should strike out to an early lead. His rider thought the same, and as soon as the race began, he took the lead.

Something felt wrong with one of his hooves. It wasn’t an injury. It was the kind of feeling that warranted an examination on a normal day at Sweet Apple Acres, but would be ignored at the height of cider season.

The race was too important to worry. He pressed on. He ran until he won. And he won in convincing fashion.

The bipeds caring for him would later marvel that he ran so well with a twisted horseshoe.

A second race, under much better conditions, resulted in another win for Big McIntosh. When his third trip for the year came, he anticipated much of the same. But this new venue felt different. The noise, which he thought he had gotten used to, was louder. There were more equines, many he didn’t recognize, and all as physically impressive as him.

And then there were the bipeds. It was not just the ones who cared for him and the other equines. There were crowds of them, and they were all focused on him.

He tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The crowds, the noise, the tension... it was his first race all over again. He started to panic. The bipeds who cared for him noticed, and every one of them focused on calming him. It helped a little, but only got worse when he went to the track. The noise was terrible. The crowds were even larger and louder. It looked like more bipeds than all the ponies in Equestria. The air was hot and ripe with the scent of the bipeds, the equines, mud, and for some reason, mint.

Oh how he craved a nip of fresh spearmint.

He continued to squirm until he felt a comforting touch upon his withers. “You need to save that energy for the race,” he heard his rider say.

The race. It was some race, much larger than any he had run before. Eighteen stalls held equines, which he knew because he counted as he went to the eighteenth and last occupied stall.

Despite the cotton in his ears, the noise made him nervous. And he wasn’t ready when the door opened. A prod on his flanks, his year of training kicked in, and he took off.

He remembered not to strain himself. He looked to his rider for guidance, and he led him to a place behind the two equines who had been first out of the gate. He could see they had the physical talents to win the race, but Big McIntosh had the will.

His opportunity came on the final turn. He raced along the outside, moving to overtake the other two. His body urged him to slow, but his mind said that he had the strength to run faster. And so he ran faster. First one, then the second equine fell behind him.

The others were still behind him when thousands of flashes of light surprised Big McIntosh. He had won the race, and thousands of cameras recorded the moment he became a champion. Despite the stress, despite the panic, he had still won.

A wreath of roses was placed around his neck to crown him champion. He turned and nabbed a succulent bud, enjoying its sweet taste.

Big McIntosh’s fourth race came two weeks later. He did not know if the race would be like the previous one, but he steeled himself to face aggressive equines and loud bipeds. And it was good he did, as the attention he faced seemed even greater.

The morning of the race, he could smell rain in the air, like when the weather ponies scheduled a heavy thunderstorm. But in this crazy world, he didn’t know when, or if, the rain would come. Even the thunder he heard predicted nothing.

Just before he was led to the track, the rain started, heavy rain that poured down in sheets. The earth beneath his hooves turned to mud in minutes. This time, he was in the inside stall, a bad place for the runner.

But Big McIntosh had proved he could win on a muddy race track. And he would do it again.

He was not eager to leave the shelter of the stall, but he was ready to run. And when the race started, he ran. He could barely sense the presence of the other equines. The rain impeded his vision, and the mud softened the sound of hooffalls. He felt his rider was as blind as he. But he knew the track, knew where it turned. He ran to win, and he won convincingly.

He declined to eat the yellow and black flowers placed around his neck, given the amount of mud they had picked up from his coat.

Big McIntosh didn’t return “home”. He stayed at the same track, the one where he won in the mud, where he continued to practice. He wondered why this was being done.

The answer came when the older biped spoke to two other unfamiliar ones during one training session. “He was comfortable running here,” he explained, “and there’s nothing more important than the colt’s comfort. In three weeks, he’ll be running the biggest race in his life. It’s a longer race than the previous two, but we know he has the talent and demeanor to win it all. He just needs to be physically and mentally ready. He wants to win as much as I do.”

The answer was directed to the bipeds, but somehow he knew the older biped was speaking to him, too.

The fifth race, the biggest race, was all that was on Big McIntosh’s mind in both the waking and dream world. He imagined it as a trip to the Equestria Games, the culmination of years of training and honing his special talent. He knew all about the Games, thanks to a certain pegasus who was always coming over for cider, but the feeling of being a champion was one that words could not describe.

But first, he had to win the race. That day finally arrived, a beautiful day for running, and Big McIntosh was ready to run. He focused on his body, and remembering the words of the older biped, focused on his mind. He needed to be comfortable, putting the stress and panic out of his mind. He leaned back against the stall, and almost missed that the gate opened.

He took off, earth churning under his hooves, as he ran. He would not be satisfied with a mere win. He wanted a dominating win. He pushed to the head of the pack, and was determined to stay there until the end.

Another equine pursued him, almost surpassing him. Big McIntosh was not worried. He recognized the signs of an equine running too fast, burning out his energy before the race was over. When he hit the wall, he faded fast.

Big McIntosh ran. He would win because he had the talent, the training, and the will. If this was his greatest race, he would give his greatest effort. He respected the other equines running behind him, but that was where they would have to be, behind him.

No equine seriously challenged Big McIntosh as he rounded the bend. With a final burst of speed, he crossed the finish line.

From there, the dream shifted. He was looking at himself, his strange equine self, and the small biped riding him. He saw flashes of the older biped and all the ones who cared for him and tended him. He saw their reactions, their sheer joy, at what he had accomplished. And then he heard a disembodied voice speak.

And here it is! The 37 year wait is over! American Pharoah is finally the one! American Pharoah has won the Triple Crown!

Big McIntosh saw one last thing, a stylized image of a pony running. A cutie mark. And with a smile, he awoke from Discord’s dream world for the last time.

The Champion

Running

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

The Champion

The next year, Fluttershy was surprised to see Big McIntosh come for a visit during the Running of the Leaves. She had been his confidante, the only pony he could talk to about his experiences in the world Discord sent him. And the way he had talked about running, about racing, about winning, she was sure he would be racing in the Running of the Leaves.

“That’s Applejack’s thing,” was all he said when she asked why.

“Big McIntosh Apple, that’s no explanation. Not when I know it is, in fact, your thing.”

“No, running is my thing. The competition, the crowds, the noise? I experienced that. In the end, I got used to it, but I didn’t enjoy it. I much prefer being the heart of Sweet Apple Acres, where I can enjoy peace, quiet, and the company of good friends. Besides, you wouldn’t believe the poor conversationalists those equines and bipeds were.”

Fluttershy and Big McIntosh shared a chuckle.

“Actually, the equines are called horses, and the bipeds humans. Surely you would have picked up on that,” said Discord after popping into the cottage.

“Eenope,” Big McIntosh responded. “I was too busy running.”

“I could always send you back, you know,” Discord offered.

“I’m officially retired from racing,” Big McIntosh said.

“What a coincidence! So is American Pharoah,”

Big McIntosh looked at Discord suspiciously. “So what is it that a retired racing horse does?”

“Oh, he simply spends the rest of his life in service as a stud,” Discord said with a grin.

Big McIntosh laughed. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think Sugar Belle would appreciate that much.”