Are Your Expectations Quietly Limiting Your Performance?

I had a bit of a realization recently—one of those moments where you connect some dots and suddenly can’t un-see it. And since that’s usually useful for more than just me, I figured I’d unpack it here.

We talk a lot about expectations in dog sports. Usually in the context of results: “I put in the work—why didn’t this Q?” Or, “I’ve trained this skill—why didn’t it show up in the ring?” That kind of expectation can create disappointment when effort doesn’t immediately translate into outcomes.

But this realization was different.

What I noticed was the way I see myself in different venues—and how that self-image quietly sets the bar for what I expect to happen.

In obedience, for example, I’ve realized I see myself as a “high-180s handler.” Not someone who can’t do better—but someone who reliably lands there. And whether I like it or not, that expectation shapes how I train, how I walk into the ring, and what my brain is prepared to deliver.

Contrast that with draft or rally—venues where I have more experience, more success, and more confidence. In those rings, my expectations are higher, steadier, and far less fragile. I walk in assuming I can handle myself and my dog. That assumption matters.

This is where expectations and beliefs get tangled.

We often talk about limiting beliefs, but I think there’s a sneakier cousin: limiting expectations. They sound reasonable. Realistic, even. But they quietly cap what we think is possible.

“I just want to qualify—no pressure.”
“I’d be happy just to make finals.”
“I’m not really a high-score person.”

There’s nothing wrong with those goals. The problem comes when the second half of the sentence reveals the ceiling:
“…because I don’t trust myself to perform there.”
“…because I always fall apart.”
“…because that’s just not who I am.”

That’s where the work is.

Our expectations shape our thoughts. Our thoughts reinforce beliefs. Those beliefs guide our actions. And our actions produce results. It’s a loop—and whether we realize it or not, it’s already running.

Right now, my loop in obedience is running toward “high-180s.” If I want something different—say, breaking into the 190s—I can’t just train harder. I have to start seeing myself differently. I have to ask: What does a handler who scores 192 do on a random Tuesday? How do they train? What do they prioritize?

And then comes the honest part: is that feasible for me, given everything else I care about?

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it’s not. Either way, clarity beats frustration.

So here’s the question I want to leave you with:
How do you see yourself in each ring you step into—and what does that expectation make possible… or quietly rule out?

You don’t have to change anything yet. Just notice it.
Because awareness is how the loop starts to shift.