My favorite zero-point run!

I had one of those runs this past weekend where the score does not tell the story.

Moxie and I were entered in two Rally runs on Friday in our quest to pick up some Masters points towards our RACH. Our first run was a respectable 98, giving us 8 points - Yay, us! The run wasn't memorable per se, but I was happy with the outcome and logged her points into my makeshift database.

On our second run, Moxie misunderstood my cue and sat for a split second during a backup exercise, a 10-point deduction. We finished the run with an 86 - good enough to qualify and finish her RM2, but no points toward her RACH. The judge gave me that "too bad" look, but inside I was THRILLED! Yes, over-the-moon-can't-wait-to-jackpot-her-THRILLED!

Moxie's ring stress also appears in other rings - including Rally. Typically, her runs should have the Sarah McLachlan/SPCA theme song playing in the background. She looks like she hates it or looks like a "typical Berner" (and honestly, I don't know which stereotype I hate more).

But not this run! On this run, she was happy. And prancy! And quickly did all her sits. And - dare I say - joyful. Absent was the tortured soul and, in its place, a happy working girl. I'll take that zero-point run any day. Process goals for the win and ice cream on the way home. She even gave me "ears" for the requisite title photos.

It would be easy for me to be disappointed, frustrated, or embarrassed by the outcome - after all, isn't that how other competitors would see it? Even sitting here, I realize it takes more effort to explain to others why we are happy with a zero-point score. I imagine that if someone at the trial had asked about my score, I might have answered with an excuse. "An 86, but I was really happy because, you see, she has ring stress, so this is kind of a personal victory ..." 

Why? Why do we feel like we have anything to explain? First of all, it's a sport. Sports are literally designed to test us; on any given day, we might be the best or look like we've never held a leash. That's the game, and we need to be easier on its participants - including ourselves.

Second, we don't have to explain our results to anyone, especially since no one else can possibly know everything behind the performance. Feeling like we need to explain is just us feeling defensive, vulnerable, or judged by another. It's not necessary - we don't owe anyone any sort of explanation.

Finally, there is a "reflex" we've developed where we need to report out as if what we say will end up in a Facebook post. "Just an 86, but she finished her title! Yay!" Yes, that is true, but it's not the story.

We all need to get better at talking honestly about our runs without feeling like we have to guess what the other person wants to hear, AND when we ask our friends about their runs, we need to do so in a way that invites honesty without fear of judgment.

If I know you well, I will ask, "How'd it go?" because I know what you're working on, and you know I want the whole answer. If I don't know you as well, I might ask, "Did you have fun?" The latter question seems to work like a permission slip, and I get all sorts of honest replies! It also reminds handlers of why we're really there in the first place ;)