Kitchen vs Field Perspective
Why do our perspectives feel so different when we’re chatting with friends over coffee in the kitchen compared to standing in the field, waiting our turn?
When we’re sitting in the kitchen before a trial—coffee in hand—we’re usually thinking about how training has been going and how supported we feel by our close-knit circle of friends and fellow trainers. Even if you train mostly on your own, you’re probably still reflecting on your progress, the connection with your dog, and the faith you have in their abilities. In low-stress moments like these, we tend to focus on the good: the fun, the joy, and the reason we do this in the first place—sharing experiences with our dogs.
One of my favorite parts of training is spending time with friends, sharing stories, offering each other perspective, and building a community I can lean on—even without my dog by my side.
But then, we step onto the trial field.
Suddenly, the mindset shifts. We tell ourselves we’re focused on the run, but more often than not, thoughts creep in:
“Who’s watching?”
“What if things go sideways?”
“What if my dog doesn’t listen?”
It’s a sharp contrast to training. When something goes wrong during practice, we don’t hesitate to step in, reset, help our dog, and keep going. So why do we often freeze or panic in a trial setting? Why do we revert to “I can’t handle this” or “I don’t know what to do”?
The truth is, most people watching want you to succeed. And those who don’t? Their opinions don’t matter. Most handlers are too wrapped up in their own dogs and runs to be judging yours.
If you’d help your dog in training, don’t be afraid to do the same in a trial. Trials are meant to test skills—or reveal gaps—not to be flawless performances. Support your dog, back up your training, and you’ll build stronger outcomes in the long run. Sometimes that means pulling from a trial, and sometimes it means walking in, claiming a small win, and celebrating that moment—regardless of how the rest of the run went.
There’s also another version of the kitchen perspective: post-trial, comfy clothes on, drink in hand, looking back at the day. From outside the arena, everything seems clearer. But we owe it to ourselves and our dogs to be fair and kind in the moment, too. Be proud of stepping out there. Each run is a fresh start—a chance to learn, grow, and move forward.
We do this to build talented teams and to have fun with our dogs. The fun should always be part of it. And if you stay committed to both the joy and the work, the talent will follow.
So don’t be afraid to dream big and build toward those dreams. Sneak fun into everything you do, and your dog will be all in—no matter what the activity is.
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