Celebrate your personal Q’s…

In the sport of dog agility, a clean run–no faults, course completed within the standard time allowed–earns a qualifying score, a “Q.”

It takes at least three Q’s under at least two different judges to earn a title. Simple, right? Wrong.

We’re talking about a dog-human partnership, like a rally car race, in which our dog is the race car driver, and we’re only the navigator. And guess what? Our driver–our dog–doesn’t speak English. 

Oh yeah, that. That’s why you train and practice, right? To teach your dog that “weave” means to take the weave poles next, and ignore the tunnel. 

But, even practice doesn’t capture all the adrenaline that fills the air at a trial–all the extra distractions from the sights, sounds, and smells of a trial.

Expect to fail. A lot. And in new ways than you could ever imagine. But that’s how you learn what you need to work on most, and how to improve the fastest. If you never try, you’ll never reach your goals. 

So how do you keep motivated when you’re failing? By noticing and celebrating your personal Q’s… your incremental improvements. Then solving one problem at a time, and celebrating those victories.

I entered my first agility trial earlier than I was really ready for. But it was our club’s November trial, great weather (we didn’t have indoor crating space at the time), and I thought it’d be a great opportunity to learn how to trial. My dog, Harry Potter, was under 2 years old. He knew all the elements, mostly. I taught him weave poles a couple weeks before the trial so we’d have a chance. He did have a great teeter, and could do all the contact obstacles–A-frame, dog walk, teeter. And he mostly hit the contact areas. We didn’t have ‘turns and crosses’–a way to signal a change of working side, or which side your dog is running next to you–also used to signal turns. Yeah, we were definitely newbies.

So… 3-day trial weekend. The first thing I learn is I’m having trouble breathing. Anxiety. I haven’t felt that anxious and nauseous since doing my figure-skating bronze-level ice dance tests. My friend, Pat, gives me peppermints to suck on, and I try to take deep breaths.

We’re entered in two classes each day, one standard class and one jumpers-with-weaves–JWW–class (no contact obstacles, just weaves, tunnels and jumps), plus FAST on Friday. Standard is harder but more forgiving with the types and number of faults allowed.

Long story short, we find a new way to fail each day, in each class. Harry’s adrenaline is pumping as he flies off the A-frame, missing the yellow contact zone.  Then I learn that a wrong course (taking an obstacle out of sequence) is a disqualifying fault for JWW when Harry notices a tunnel and decides to take it instead of the correct jump. I find a way to practice contacts on the curb. Just as I think we’ve fixed our contact problem, Harry finds a new short way to do the teeter, by bailing off to the side, missing the contacts completely.

Harry flies off the A-frame, missing the contact zone
Harry bails on the teeter-Hey mom, I found a way to save time on the teeter!

But as we’re working together, I’m learning to calm myself down, and learning to read my dog. When does he need water? Exercise? I learn that when his tongue rides side-saddle–long and hanging out the side of his mouth–I need to cool him down, or he won’t be able to focus. Getting a routine down helps both of us. We rest between runs, play a little before a run to warm up, then we play afterwards to celebrate and cool down. My goal is that he has fun.

Last day, last class, last chance–7 time’s a charm. The last class of the weekend is a JWW course. I look at the course. We don’t have a cross (change of working side) in our toolkit. So I tell Harry, just stick by my side. I have to slow Harry down to run at my pace, especially on turns when I’m on the longer outside track. We stay connected as we work our way around the course. Guess what? We have a clean run! But it was made possible by all the personal Q’s–the incremental learnings–that came before.

Learn to recognize and celebrate your personal Q’s. You’ll reach your goals, in time. And you also get to figure out if it’s the destination you really want. Sometimes, it’s all about the journey.

What personal Q’s have you accomplished? Let me know!

Cheers!

MK Tufft

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