I am heading down south to Vero Beach this weekend for some agility fun. I am excited. I have not been down to Vero in a VERY long time, hailing back to the days years ago when I was competing heavily with Kaylee. This will be Xander’s first trip down south, and we have not competed since the trial in Perry, GA basically one month ago. I have been longing for the chance to again immerse myself in that world which I love so much. Of course my life in recent years has rarely been devoid of agility. Since beginning to teach my classes nearly two years ago, I have had agility on the brain more than I might otherwise have, given that I spend so much time considering the needs of my students, my plans for their lessons, and obviously the skills I desire to work on with my own dogs. There are weekly lessons and practice, and now the class I have recently started attending with Xander. Additionally, there is a daily fix of watching videos of trial footage from other handlers, studying their techniques and analyzing the handling choices of others I respect. I read blogs from top competitors, and from those who offer a humorous perspective on trying to reach the top. Last weekend was filled with an above average preoccupation given that I was not actually competing myself, rather following the results of the World Team Tryouts held by the AKC in search for that elite group of dogs and handlers who will have the privilege of representing the United States in France later this year. Among them being the young but brilliantly wise and skilled Tori Self and her aptly named dog Revolution for the impact they are making on the world of agility.
I have spent recent weeks considering my philosophy on agility; my thoughts on relationship, rewards, goals, and the intangible skills that separate brilliant dog trainers from the rest. Tori’s post this morning, (and I hope she does not think I am a creepy stalker, rather an avid admirer) hit on a topic I have been preoccupied with lately myself. The concept of enjoying the game for what it is, rather than trying to qualify or win, and in the process become stressed out trying prevent anything from going wrong. Others have spoken on this as well, although in cases such as Daisy Peel’s, the focus is more on mastering the mental game itself; in essence being able to control one’s emotional influences on the ability to focus and think clearly. Sarah Duke, another competitor and blogger I admire and enjoy following, spoke also on the pitfalls of becoming too focused on goals rather than process.
Kaylee and I used to compete quite a lot. At least once a month, but more often two or three times a month. I worked for the sole purpose of playing agility, and was in a situation where my living expenses were mostly paid for and I had only to pay for my hobby. I was also young and stupid when it came to the use of credit, and was completely irresponsible with the ample amounts of money I was deemed worthy to borrow. I had no long term dreams or goals. I was lost and unhappy, feeling stuck where I was in my working life as well as domestically and so agility became my only outlet. I was obsessed. I had nothing else in my life that brought me any amount of happiness or satisfaction, so it was truly all I cared about. That was a bad place to be. Kaylee was a great young dog, and very mature and consistent from an early age. Looking back, I know and regret starting her too young, practicing with her too often, and causing her to have back and shoulder problems she might not otherwise have had. I am grateful to her for teaching me so much that will benefit all of my dogs going forward.
Due to Kaylee’s honesty, work ethic, and willingness, we were able to qualify quite consistently. This became addictive. In my day to day life of feeling like a loser, escaping to a weekend of agility and returning with a handful of ribbons and titles was highly reinforcing. As we approached our coveted MACH title, I became entirely too focused on qualifying, and lost sight of enjoying the game. We had attended the Perry, GA trial in April for the first time that year, and I had seen the glorious green and blue rosette awarded to teams who earned a MACH at that trial. I WANTED IT. I have no idea why that beautiful ribbon became so important for me, but I had tunnel vision in regards to it.
We were closing in on our final four Double Q’s when we attended this weekend’s trial in Vero Beach six years ago in 2005. Perry would be hosting another 4 day trial in July, and there were no local trials in June, so I knew that if I could get several Double Q’s between the Vero trial and the upcoming trial in Palmetto at the end of May, I would stand a good chance of walking away from Perry with the ribbon and title I obsessively dreamed of. We had gotten something like eleven DQ’s in a row before this trial, but I fell apart in this home stretch. I was always nervous when competing, as if I had something to prove to myself and others, that I was worthy and had something to offer despite everything else in my life. I was too nauseous to eat until after finishing my runs for the day, which was usually eight or so hours from the time I had woken up. I didn’t sleep well. I was nervous and making myself miserable. Understandably, I made mistakes.
Poor Kaylee, I feel so bad for the person she had to deal with. I think she’s gotten her revenge in the years of barking and poop eating, but I was a wreck and often a terribly neurotic over-handler. On that weekend in Vero, I micro-managed her through one course on Saturday, only to screw her up on the second course. By Sunday morning, I was desperate to earn at least one DQ, so when she slid off the table in standard, something she has only done one other time since, I decided there was no point in running jumpers. I packed up my gear in disgust and headed home early. Kaylee, I am so sorry for being such an a$$hole, and I hope I have made it up to you since then.
We didn’t qualify in Palmetto that last weekend of May, and I don’t even remember why. So when we arrived in Perry we still needed those 4 DQ’s. I knew it was POSSIBLE in four days, but I had dismissed the idea altogether. After my poor performance in the last two trials, I said to heck with it and decided just to go out and get whatever we could. I wish I had been as wise at age 25 as Tori is at age 19, but I’m glad I learned the lesson eventually. Once I stopped believing that we could get our MACH that weekend, the last chance we would have until the fall season began again months later, we qualified. Every run: Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.
Admittedly, by Saturday night I was so nervous that I couldn’t think straight. We only needed one more perfect day to walk away with that ribbon. The newest Harry Potter book had been released that day, the sixth one in the series, so that helped distract me a little, but I couldn’t focus on that well either. However, I realized that if we didn’t get it, that wouldn’t be the end of the world, and we could get the title early in the next season. I didn’t REALLY need that ribbon, I only wanted it. So we showed up Sunday and did what we had been doing before I got all hung up on the goal. And I got the ribbon, which is now in a box somewhere. But I do treasure the photo collage I made including the picture of Kaylee and I smiling together with our bar and ribbon in the pretty pink flowers outside the arena.
It was a great accomplishment at the time, but once achieved, I kind of lost interest. Because I was so focused on just achieving that one thing, I forgot how to enjoy the ride. It was no longer about playing a game with the dog I loved and admired who was smart and fast and happy when she was playing with me. It was only about a title and a ribbon, which are easily forgotten.
Kaylee hurt her back that summer, and to make a long story short, although we got her fixed up and competed more for a while, my focus turned to other things. I had to make the choice between sacrificing my overall happiness and well being for the sake of competing in agility, or give it up in order to gain a better life. I didn’t have the emotional energy, time, money, or desire to do much agility for a long time. Once I got stabilized finally in the latter part of 2008, I felt my old passion start to reignite. Kaylee easily finished her second MACH as I was exposing baby Xander to the world of agility trials, and thus began my gradual return to the world of competition.
I have learned so much since that trial in 2005, and am so thrilled to be heading to this competition six years later with a completely different perspective. While life is not yet perfect, it is GOOD. Actually, it is pretty great overall, and I have balance now. Agility, while a large part of my life, is not the only thing that brings me satisfaction and fulfillment. I no longer feel the need to prove anything to anyone, or myself. I am free to ENJOY myself and the time spent playing with my wonderful dogs. I see agility now as a beautiful dance when done correctly, and aspire to having the fastest, happiest dog with the greatest understanding of his job. If this results in titles and wins, that's fine, but those will just be side effects that come from truly enjoying what we're doing and focusing on all the beautiful details and skills it takes to make the dance seem easy. Agility is also expensive, and considering that I now have to work, pay bills, make choices for my long term future, it has become a privilege. I have learned to appreciate each opportunity I have to go play this game that I love. Although we could achieve some titles this weekend, I really don’t care. I cannot control everything, nor prevent anything from going wrong. All I can do is remember the work and training we have put into our team, trust my dog to do his job, and acknowledge that when he makes a mistake, it is just another opportunity to go home and train to make us a better team. I can eat breakfast; enjoy talking to friends, and take Xander for walks around the trial site. I can step to the line with my beautiful boy, kiss him on the nose, and give him a big smile before releasing him to run. He chatters with excitement when he is about to play his game, and since I never scold him or become frustrated with him, he is always eager to run as fast as he can. When we cross the line, q or no q, we will tug and play and I will tell him what a fabulous, smart, and handsome boy he is. I will be grateful for every moment, because I no longer care about ribbons or titles so much, rather I love my dog and together we LOVE THIS GAME.
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