some thoughts about the pressures of trialing in dog sports and the emotional environment of trials, partially inspired by this post by the beautiful @mongrelization
this post happened to come at a time when I was at a decision point in my trial career with mav. he had just started refusing jumps (i thought it was a training issue at the time, i now know he was in pain) and he wasn't having fun. we were disconnected in the ring, with him choosing to go visit friends or just blow past obstacles without attempting them. it was frustrating and it was such a stark contrast from our training runs (not flawless but immeasurably better than our performances in the ring) and i was making jokes (as everyone does!) about mav being the worst, etc, etc.
except they weren't jokes.
they sounded like jokes and they even felt like jokes in the moment, but looking back i can confidently see that i was frustrated and resentful and the "lighthearted jokes" from other competitors and from myself were just fueling the fire. i saw darcies post shortly after a particularly frustrating trial where we just couldn't connect, i was trying to decide whether to push through and fix our issues or give up completely on agility.
her post wasn't an epiphany, i probably would've gotten there eventually, but her post that said, essentially hey its fucked up to make those jokes about your dog and its fucked up for people to make those jokes about your dog and thats not how a trial should be - something clicked. its NOT how it should be.
i took a break from trialing in everything and cut training way back and just took all the pressure off of mav while i got my internal emotional environment back on track. im a really competitive person and its hard to consciously dial that back, but more than that, it's legitimately embarrassing when things go wrong with people watching you. if your default is humor about it (like mine), its a hard shift to not make jokes about your dog when things go wrong. but its an important and necessary shift.
i started trialing him again after about 3 months off, very lightly. i stopped entering full weekends and opted to do half-days or only saturdays and he fucking THRIVED. i made time to meet all his needs before trials, i prioritized his happiness over technically correct courses, and i got over the embarrassment of excusing myself from a run if it was going downhill. i fixed my internal emotional environment and that fixed our disconnect and made every win more meaningful.
the thing is, i am 100% sure i would not have fixed my emotional environment if i was actively competing and practicing the same patterns. i absolutely had to take that step back to fix myself. you can't make meaningful change if youre still in the middle of it acting it out.
i lost out on trials with mav and that sucked so much in the moment. i had awful FOMO watching my friends compete and finish titles while we did little low-pressure walks at home. but ultimately i gained something so much more important, and looking back i can't bring myself to regret that at all.
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Hi, could you do Grovyle from MD? I will accept anything you're willing to give me. I am but a mere orphan child hoping to receive some sustenance of that man
Grovyle has trouble sleeping.
He always has. It’s not going to change just because he can finally hear the roar of the wind or the crash of the waves along the rocks below. This world is so alive but it gives him little relief. It only strengthens his resolve to save it. Makes him feel restless because every second not spent working towards a better future is a second closer to the ruined timeline he knows.
You, on the other hand, seem to have no trouble falling asleep now. You look so peaceful, curled up in a nest of dried grasses, expression soft and chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. It’s a stark difference from the restless sleeping form he remembers and not just because you are no longer human.
This new form suits you, Grovyle thinks. You’ve always had a fire burning deep within you. It burned bright in your eyes even when everything else around you was dark and cold and dead. Now that fire burns inside and out, manifesting in the form of powers you didn’t have as a human. It’s good, Grovyle decides. Strength suits you. Though it’s weird that he has to look down to meet your eyes instead of craning his neck up.
He wonders if you would miss anything from your old life if you could remember it. Not the world itself, obviously, because the two of you had resolved to change it, but maybe some of the little things. Would you miss being human? Would you miss your height? Your hair? Your fingers? Your lips? Would you miss your friends? Would you miss Celebi? Would you miss…? …no, it’s better not to follow that train of thought.
Would you miss him? He strikes the thought from the record but he thinks it anyway. Do you miss him like he misses you?
Grovyle thinks you look happy here. Much happier with your new partner than you ever were with him. He’s not jealous, not really. He’s glad you found someone. He’s relieved to know you weren’t alone all this time because even as he’s spent every second working to fulfill your mission, not a moment went by when he wasn’t thinking of you. So, yes, he is deeply grateful to your new partner for being there for you even though it hurts to know how easily he can be replaced.
It hurts to know how forgettable he is. And that’s not fair of him to be upset at you for that. You’re the victim, you lost everything, but did you really have to forget him too?
He takes a sharp inhale of breath and closes his eyes. He keeps them closed even as the deep ache in his chest passes. He listens to the wind and the waves, concentrating on the sounds of the beautiful world he is fighting to protect.
Your gentle breathing is the last thing he remembers before sleep finally claims him.
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