We're Moving

Well... from here anyway.

Please find my new blog at http://unstoppabledogs.com and follow us there!

Thanks for reading my posts, rants, ramblings here for the last year. Prepare for many more over at Wordpress & an exciting new domain name with fancy new designs. Thrilling, eh?

Bolt would really, really appreciate a follow on our new blog. Do it for him.

A time of maybes

Today I am twenty-five. Two-Five. A quarter Century. 1/4 of the way there. Rent-a-car age. My quarter-life crisis commences when? 

I don't feel any older. I don't feel like I'm much different than I was a year ago. Maybe a little more mature (debatable by some), a little smarter (a master, remember) and maybe a little wiser. They say wisdom is knowing that you know nothing; so yes, I am definitely wiser. Yesterday I spent the day with my best friend-- my furry, high-pitched barking, wild-eyed, soulful best friend. We went for a long hike in the woods, got coney island hotdogs, picked lilacs, listened to music a little too loudly, went for a swim (well he did anyway) even if it's more like wading in the water instead of actual swimming, and then played agility on a beautiful evening with good people-- the sun setting over the cranberry bogs behind us. That was my birthday present to myself, and it was the best. 

 

There are some things that I wish would have happened by now. But also many more things that I wasn't sure would have happened that have. That makes sense, I'm sure of it. There are too many good things in this life to list, and I'm not sure I would be able to do them all justice anyway. It's good to feel like I'm where I'm meant to be at this moment, though. This moment-- right now, right here. I'm happy, I'm comfortable. But not I'm not content, and I think in itself is a good thing. Contentment means that nothing needs to change and I think change needs to happen-- probably a lot of it. Nothing that is too overwhelming right now though, things that will happen in time... naturally. Things that I'm fine with letting happen as they need to. Also a good place to be.

So maybe change will come in this unfurling year. Maybe I'll get to the other side of that hill next spring. Maybe my writing will be published. Maybe surroundings will change, adventures will be had, trips will be taken, new friends will be made.  

Twenty-five is an age marked by maybes, decisions, unknowns, and a world still left incredibly un-explored. Here's to what's to come.

Far from the bottom

Sometimes things don’t work out. The expectations and hopes and imaginings you’ve created for something just don’t happen. You’re back at the bottom of the hill looking up again. Just like that.

I’ve been going through a range of emotions the last couple weeks; sort of unexpectedly. I expected to feel disappointment if things didn't happen, but it was a lot deeper than that. I wasn’t sure what the outcome of tryouts would be, but I had a lot of hope going into the weekend—a lot of doubts as the time got closer, too. It’s hard to keep those in check sometimes. All of the training leading up to the weekend had me feeling confident and, if possible, more impressed with Bolt than I ever have been (hard to believe, I know). He is so responsive, he works so hard at this sport. After nationals (2 bars.. oh, 2 bars) we worked on jumping. He rocked. We kept working on collection and wraps. He seriously rocked. And we played on contacts. My first dog with reliable contacts, no matter what, that rocks. I went into the weekend keeping expectations down, but the hope was still there.

People always ask about how stressful tryouts must be, and how impossible it must be to keep your nerves in control and focus on the course. The honest truth? I usually find my heart pounding harder at local trials. Tryouts is a blast. The pressure is there, but when you go out and walk the course with headphones blaring, a small smile tugging at your lips, surrounded by some of the best handlers and trainers in the country—how could you be stressed? This is a sport. But it is also a game. Our dogs do not have expectations of world team, they do not dream of team jackets or medals or anything else. They do not dwell on knocked bars, or missed contacts, or—most especially or—mistimed threadles. They live in the moment. They embrace the present. I want to be more like them.

I got to see a friend I don’t see nearly enough and we spent the weekend as if no time had passed at all. We told (stupid) jokes, and laughed, and talked about too big ideas (on our ship of the imagination). The extended agility family went out for an Italian dinner where we were too loud, under-dressed, and having the most fun in the room. Our poor waiter. There was a distinct lack of sleep over the three days and once we landed my head was light and fuzzy like an agility hangover. It was hard to adjust back to life: work, teaching, school. (I graduated, by the way. Even if I didn’t walk at graduation. I’m a master now). 

So four courses, three mishandled threadles on my part. A skill that I knew I hadn’t practiced well enough going into the weekend. My fault. Sorry, Bolt. We've been working on them and, like most everything with this dog, it is coming together.

Are we back at the bottom of the hill? That’s what it felt like at first—that we were back to where we began, with another year of pushing, training, practicing, anticipating. I’m not so sure. Agility will mingle with hikes, and adventures, ice cream trips, late night laughs, sitting around fires, travels, long car rides, tears, celebrations, growth and change.

We’re not at the bottom, I’ve decided. This year we were close to cresting the top of that hill, of seeing what’s on the other side. We’re not there yet, but we’re a hell of a lot closer than we ever have been before.

What a cool place to be. 

Another Adventure Awaits

Sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from expectations, hopes & doubts. 

Sometimes all three exist at the same time. Friday morning Bolt and I will be on our way to Minnesota for our second world team tryouts. Last year he was the youngest dog there at a year old. I can honestly say that I went there with small expectations; I hoped to make it through some courses but above all else give my young dog and I some great experience as a team. He exceeded expectations when he placed in a round and finished in the top 10, but the weekend was far from perfect. We learned a lot. I learned a lot.

This year feels a little different. It's hard not to place expectations and hopes on an event that signifies so much to me. I started this journey when I was 14 and began looking for the dog who might be able to get to world team with me. 10 years is a long time. I didn't expect to be here with this dog already.

In a lot of ways I'm still going with my 'baby dog' this year. He's two. A two year old with all the potential in the world & who has shown me that potential every single time we run together. I'm doing my best to balance the stress (because there is some), the excitement (there's much more of that) and the expectations I place on myself.

This weekend I entered just one day of a local trial so we could focus on training. Bolt pulled out QQ #10 which is a pretty cool place to be. Running on rubber flooring is never our best bet, since he looks like a sports car trying to speed on a wet race track. Either way, lots of good things-- plus we're totally in sync. A good feeling for sure.  
 

So another adventure awaits; I'll be talking to Paulette more than usual, balancing these hopes & expectations the best I can, and be spending the weekend with the greatest teammate I could have hoped for. What's better than that?

 

(Also, I'm finishing a Master's degree this week.) 

NAC Review/ Chin Up

Nationals was always going to be an incredible learning experience, regardless of outcome, for Bolt and I. We were going as a very young team— showing for just over a year total, with him still only two. While it sometimes feels like we’re a seasoned team when we’re running, other times it becomes apparent that we’re not just there yet. Close, but not quite yet.

The original goal was to get to nationals, no pressure on results at the event, just— be. But, inevitably, thoughts of bigger goals (& ultimately bigger doubts) started to creep in the closer the event got. It was hard to balance the expectations of a baby dog, and the expectations of this baby dog… who no longer can be called a baby. So I settled on a smaller goal: a clean round, see what happens after.

Our T2B round was nice, fast, clean. It was a confidence booster. But with four days of competition, with just one run a day, the stress and anticipation proved to be a lot. When the second to last bar fell in jumpers on day two, my heart sank. I knew it was my fault immediately. I clapped, praised and loved on my dog, but beat myself up. Amazing how this sport can take us from the highest high, to the lowest low in an instant. I try not to let Bolt see the low times.

Standard was one of our best runs of the weekend. Bolt’s criteria held up. Start lines (start lines!!!!) amazing, fast dog walk, running a-frame (he was allowed) and an awesome see saw despite the jumpy J&J equipment. I did a risky move in an attempt to tighten up the ending line (meat and potatoes vs. loaded baked potato). Again, praised my dog, told him he was brilliant, and beat myself up. What’s a national event if you don’t need to walk outside the building, allow a couple tears and then pick your chin up and move on?

Glad to say that by the time hybrid rolled around I had sucked it up, and worked to be the handler my dog deserved for the weekend. We had a wide turn, but a clean, fast round and placed 10th overall among a group of very talented dogs and handlers. The weekend showed me some things to work on. It made me mentally tougher, it showed me that my young dog can handle an incredible amount of stress, pressure, noise, and competition. It showed me that we’re heading in the right direction.

Chin up, game face on. Looking towards May.

Full Circle

Last week I started a happiness challenge. You must post a picture each day of something that makes you happy for 100 days. It's been easy up until tonight. Today the thing that made me happy isn't something I would be able to capture in a single picture, so instead I'll try-- probably unsuccessfully-- to capture it in words.

A special person was able to say the things I most needed to hear tonight-- and remind me of some things I had forgotten (no matter how briefly). She reminded me that I have the best dog in the world; the best one I could have asked for; the one who gives everything he has; the dog who hikes and goes on adventures with me. The dog with the face that is permanently smiling-- the face I probably take too many pictures of. She made me remind Bolt of those things, even though I already think them. They need the reminder sometimes too.

 She changed my energy, the energy in the room & helped us connect again. The reminder is what I needed going into this weekend. I feel like I've come full circle. I feel light, and happy about this week. I feel like we left training in the most perfect way I could have hoped for. No matter what happens, I have the best teammate I could have ever hoped for & I can only try to be what he deserves too.

Sorry for forgetting that tonight, Bolt & thank you Diane for being the best coach when I most needed it.

Clear Sky, Clear Mind

I started running last summer. I was never a runner-- I could run, I did run. But I didn't like it unless it was contained in an agility field in some way. It was an attempt to get in better shape. It started out bad-- I was slow, I was out of breath. But, like with most things, I wanted to make it happen. So I roughed it out, and slowly 90 seconds became 3 minutes became 10 minutes became 20 minutes became 3 miles. I run every week now, and not just at agility, but for fun. I love it-- who knew running could make you smile while you did it; and not just a little smile, but beam. Sometimes it's pure joy.

Being injured has been really tough. Running hasn't happened as much as it used to, and when it does now I find myself a little afraid of it. I can't live in bubble wrap for the next two weeks/ two months, and neither can Bolt. So we still explore. The one good thing this winter has done is make me appreciate the days of clear skies and temperatures above freezing.
You know you're a New Englander when: you go to the beach because it stopped snowing.

 

This past weekend was wonderful. I got to spend it with the best people, playing with Bolt. He was so good. So, so good. We went to a seminar for nationals prep held by John Nys & it was the perfect place to get our timing back-- well my timing back. Bolt was never off. He's amazing. I've known John since I started agility-- almost 12 years, he knows how to push me when I need it-- and I so needed it. We worked all day, and laughed a lot, and learned a lot. By the afternoon I felt like we were in synch. I didn't enter any shows in the weeks before Nationals. I know myself enough to know that if something went wrong I would dwell on it for days. I don't want any (extra) baggage coming with us to Harrisburg. No doubts, no fears.

Plus Jen and I went on a photography adventure which included coffee, lots of driving, deep thoughts and imaginations running wild-- the usual. The 700+ mile round trip to Pennsylvania will be a very awesome adventure for sure.

I'm keeping my resolutions. Training agility isn't the most important part of agility.

In non-dog news, I'm finishing grad school in just over a month. I've been writing a novel for the past couple years for my thesis which doesn't totally jive with what the school expected me to write. But I like it, my adviser likes it, and I finally feel like I'm back writing what I originally loved and that's a good thing. Plus, I've written a lot recently and that's a really good thing too. 15 pages to go.

 

Puppies: Trust the Process

In response to the awesome Dog Agility Blog Event on the topic of "Starting your puppy"

In thirteen years of agility I've been very lucky. My first sheltie, Flame, came fully trained at five years old and was ring ready. Literally the first time I ever ran agility was at a show my aunt took me to & Flame's owner Diane asked if I wanted to try running her in novice jumpers (uh, yes?!). I clapped my way through a Deb Hunt course and Flame, dealing with my incompetence like a champ, won the damn class. I took the ribbon with me to my first day of seventh grade. So yeah, I was hooked.

Since Flame, I've trained two radically different dogs. Nike came home at 10 weeks old when it was apparent that he was too big for the breed ring, but would be a nice 16" dog. He was a singleton who sat in his pen and stared at me with his blue and brown eyes and melted my fourteen year old heart (not difficult at any age, I supposed). Bolt came to me at just over 8 weeks old (the moment Paulette said he could) and was a fluffy black white and tan ball of fur (with a lightning bolt shape tuff on his neck). Luckily for him, I was a (slightly) more mature 22 year old.

Baby Nike

Both Nike and Bolt were destined for agility when I took them home, but they are at heart polar opposites. Nike started showing signs of fear at a young age. Things that were previously innocuous became things that were fear triggers: waste barrels, parked cars, sudden noises, unfamiliar people and dogs-- agility. I put too much of a burden on the back of my fluffy blue merle boy. Nationals, MACHs, tryouts, world team. When he started acting fearful towards agility I started to see those aspirations crumble. I needed to reassess a plan of attack, it was obvious that he wouldn't be ring ready in eleven months to the day. Instead, we went to different places and faced fears. Things that were scary slowly became background noise to him. It was a long, long process. The most important thing that can exist between us and our dogs is trust, and it starts out at an early age. I learned that Nike didn't trust that he was safe in agility and that was the problem to our foundation & so I worked hard to build that up with him. Once he got it he ran wild with it. He started to love agility. He was fast, he was happy- he did take me to nationals (twice), we got a MACH and he took me to world team tryouts three times. An absolutely invaluable experience.

Bolt on the other hand was a completely different dog. He came home that first day confident and happy. Playing with his new toys, digging his new surroundings and playing with his new big older brother. When I took him out I kept expecting the same fear triggers to set him off. But they didn't come- I had to keep reminding myself that he was a different dog. Things came a little easier with him. I didn't have to work to make him motivated, I had to work to make sure he kept his brain inside his head. Sometimes it feels like cheating with him-- but I know it's because he had the benefit of years of learning that I applied to my approach with him. I hope to bring that to the next dog I bring home. 

So, trust the process.
Know that every dog you have will be different than the last. That you can't control everything in the world. That they are puppies and as puppies they will make mistakes, and chew things, and chase things, and destroy things, and get distracted by people, dogs, and shiny objects. They might get afraid sometimes, and they might forget they have brains sometimes-- but know that it's just part of the process.
You aren't breaking your puppy by trying new things you haven't done before. You aren't a failure if your puppy isn't where so-and-so's dog is/was at the same age. Play with them. Tug with them. Don't panic if they don't like to tug. Don't compare where they are to anyone else. Don't compare them to how your last dog did or how they learned. Know that their attention spans are short. That they don't know about MACHs, or Nationals, or world team. The time with them will go by too quickly, especially as puppies.
Don't over analyze them or what you're doing, just start.

Bond with your puppy first. Love who they are. The rest will follow.

*

If We're Lucky

If we're lucky the day will come when our dogs are gray in the face. It might be a little harder for them to run after the ball like they used to, or go for long hikes. The stairs might be a challenge if there's too many of them. The bed and couch might be too high of a jump, even if it used to be a game before. They will nap more than they used to. Their hearing might not be that great (or just selective towards things that sound like "cookie"). Their eyes might not be as sharp in the dark-- or light.

The days of agility will be some of our favorite memories.

The NQs, dropped bars, missed contacts, broken startlines won't be what we remember of them. They certainly won't be something we criticize them for in their old age. That one time they lost to so-and-so; that time they didn't run their jumpers run as tight as the day before; that time they self released from the table and lost a double Q. These things will become inconsequential. Try to not let them get to you at the time. Try not to leave the ring angry with your friend who has just done their most favorite thing in the world with their most favorite person. Do not put them right back in a crate without a word.

How much we'd regret it if our last day of playing with our dogs was left on a note like that. Walk with them after a bad run instead-- I bet your mood will change much faster than if you went off and stewed alone.

The unexpected can happen. Our time with these amazing creatures is painfully, regrettably and unfairly short. Let's make the most of the time we do have.

I want many more years of getting our feet dirty, friend.

Make It Count

Five weeks stand before us and the AKC National Agility Championships.

I wanted to make another sort of reminder list for myself for the coming weeks. I'll do my best to follow my own advice. Please add to this! 

Like the final days (or hours if you're like me) before an exam in school, there's not much you don't already know. The foundation you need for the nationals you already have. You practice it every week in training. You compete in it every weekend you show. Trust in the skills and work you've put into your team- doubting yourself won't get you anywhere.

Stick to your guns. 

Run your dog the way you are confident in running. Do not change your style to be like someone else- do not compare yourself at this point. Re-evaluation and re-training comes after major events. Not in the weeks before. Don't second guess your initial instinct on handling choices-- chances are you're thinking them for a reason, and a good reason. They work for you. Put in your headphones and blare some good tunes before your walk-thru. Give yourself the time to plan and walk and visualize the good.

Get tough. 

Mentally & physically. Surround yourself with positive affirmations. I have positive phrases posted in my notebooks, as the background of my phone. I stick them in the mirror or tape them to the fridge. At my desk at work. There's a bunch in this post too. Push yourself- but not too hard (read: my hamstring scare). Drink more water. Eat well. Get to bed earlier. STRETCH. Run. Walk. You'll thank yourself when you see that straight running line in Round 1/2/3/finals & it doesn't feel like your legs are falling off, or your lungs are giving out.

Quality vs. Quantity training. 

You know how to do serpentines. Blinds, fronts, rears. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know how to handle the types of courses you’re going to see at nationals. Not that you shouldn’t train skills, but don’t overdue it. The more you over-analyze the more likely you are to doubt what you already have.

Be kind to yourself. 

Expect more, but do not criticize yourself too harshly. There are plenty of other people in this life who will do that for you. Surround yourself with those who don't.

You've got 5 weeks left. Make them count.

Attitude Matters

Positivity changes everything.

I think I've grown up a lot since my early days agility-- probably a good thing, seeing as I started when I was eleven years old, and eleven year olds aren't notorious for being mature. Thirteen years involved in the sport has included countless ups & a number of downs along with a lot of learning and growth. One of the most important things I've found over the years, is how much a positive outlook can make a difference. Positivity should happen at all levels of the sport-- before you even step into an arena. Even the most seemingly inconsequential things-- looking at courses online, making a training plan, packing for a show. I think a positive attitude must come before the actual events we're preparing for if we expect good to come of it.

"We'll never get that skill down.." "That's too hard for us.." "I can't do that.."

As soon as we get to saying these things, we've already predestined ourselves for failure. I hear these things in training, teaching & showing all the time. I think it's one of the most detrimental mindsets we can find ourselves in. As soon as you say you "can't" do something, you won't. "I can't run that fast" "I'm afraid it won't work" "We can't do one of those (insert any 'fancy' move here)". It's almost a sure thing that those teams won't be able to do whatever it is. Not because of a lack of skill, or speed, or ability, but because of a lack in confidence. Because they will make their insecurities happen. I can say, though, that when a more positive outlook exists (a "we'll give it a try" will do) the results reflect it. Try to be sure to go into training with not only a plan, but the mindset that you will have success. How ever small that success for the day might be. Celebrate the good.

"Negative thoughts lead to negative outcomes. 

Positive thoughts lead to positive outcomes."

This is probably more common at shows and events. I've been guilty of this, and I'm sure you have too at some point. You pick up the course map and make your way to the edge of the ring, eager to see what the day will bring. Only there's something on the map that makes you stop. A serpentine. A backside. Lateral distance from the see-saw/ A-frame/ dogwalk. A lead out. Poles to nowhere. A tantalizing off course obstacle. You lower the map, mumble some sort of unmentionable expletive and think-- "No Q for us." Maybe it's idealistic, but with practice, we can change the way we think about these things. Try to catch yourself when the negative thoughts creep in. Even if the run does go wrong, find the good in it-- I assure you, there is always something good. I promise that it is a much more rewarding experience than always dwelling on shortcomings, or mistakes, or NQ's.

 

Last year I wrote down a list of negative (persistent) thoughts & changed the way they were worded. It felt silly at the time. But it has helped-- really, really helped. I keep my training notebook nearby at all times. I'll open up & share a bit of what I wrote down last year.

Some of the negative things I worried about:
1. Not trusting my dog & my instincts as a handler on course.
2. Putting too much pressure on myself to succeed.
3. Not living up to my own expectations and goals. 

The new & improved wording of these worries:
1. We are a great team. We trust each other.
2. I will be successful.
3. I will reach the goals I make for myself.

Simple. Felt silly at the time, but now, looking back, the original fears feel silly in themselves. I also wrote down a quote that I truly believe has helped. I visualize every run before it happens. I envision the celebration at the end, too. I'd rather use my energy in a positive way rather than worry about what may or may not even happen.

"Before every run picture everything going perfectly. No matter what has happened before."

So, give it a shot. Write down your fears, your weak spots, the things you "can't" do, the skills you "don't" have. Re-word them until they're positive. Carry them with you to shows, read them at night, or before your run. Do it until it becomes second nature. Because really, how much fun can it be if we're always doubting our abilities & setting ourselves up for failure?

Doesn't hurt to try, right?


Links to the books I read last year that started this positivity!
Success From the Inside - Kathy Keats
With Winning in Mind - Lanny Bassham

Reflections & Resolutions

2013 

 

Bolt turned two. We traveled across the country. We hiked mountains & ran along beaches. We met new friends & saw lots of old ones. We trained, and learned, and trialed, and succeeded. We met goals I wasn't sure were possible. More than that, we exceeded everything I had ever hoped for.

We laughed, and cried, and sang (badly), and danced (worse). We sat around fires and told stories. We watched the sun set-- and rise, too. We geocached, and tried new things. I learned I could run-- longer and further and faster than I ever thought possible. Joe & I fell more in love, and celebrated a fourth, happy year together.

Resoluions: hike more, run more, train smart, keep short-term goals for shows, eat more sushi, visit new places, find more caches. Smile, laugh & spend more time with the people I love.

I have a lot of big goals for the coming year, but I'm just excited to see where it brings us. I know it'll be a good one.

Let's go,  2014.

We're ready.