When the calendar turned to 2020 I had expected to run my 20th half marathon in April and then a few more by the end of the year. A couple days ago I went out for a run and couldn’t complete a 3 miler without stopping to walk several times.

My, how quickly things change!

I kept running throughout the spring, even when the April race was cancelled. I was holding out hope for a June race. Then, when it became clear I wouldn’t be running any races in 2020, I just stopped.

It was strange — something that had been a weekly routine, something I had to do, slipped away without my thought on my part.

I just stopped running.

I stopped running because I didn’t have motivation to keep going — I didn’t have a race on the horizon, so there was no reason to train. But, I think it was more than that. I was tired. My brain was (is!) on overload. Walking felt like enough, so I walked.

There was also something else going on… Steve. He’s our younger dog. I had high hopes for him when we brought him home at 9-weeks over two years ago. He was going to be my new running buddy since our older dog, Denali, was no longer interested in such things. I knew Steve would step right in — I was sure of it.

Except he didn’t. We’ve worked with several trainers and still no running. In fact, even my walks, which often help me reset and ground myself, have become tiresome because of his constant whining. It turns out Steve just doesn’t like to be on a leash. He has been vocal on our walks since the very first one. I thought he’d grow out of it. So far, no luck.

I kept waiting for him to change.

I knew once he changed, then I could make some changes in my life. I was putting him in charge of my choices. That really hasn’t worked so well.

Living in the Midst — my way of living through infertility, or really anything hard — requires paying attention, noticing and naming. It goes something like this…

I was on an afternoon walk with Steve last week (he’s much more vocal later in the day) when I tuned in to what I was feeling. I paid attention to the sensations in my body every time I had to correct him. I paid attention to the conversation going on in my head. I paid attention to the many different feelings flowing through my body.

Then I noticed that I wasn’t relaxed. In fact, I was really stressed on this walk. Instead of feeling energized for the rest of my day, I was frustrated and depleted. I noticed that this was a pattern. Afternoon walks with Steve caused my body to tense up, my mind to spiral and my heart to feel ashamed.

It wasn’t long after paying attention and noticing that I was able to name my struggle: I want Steve to be someone he’s not. Steve will not be my running buddy anytime soon, and he may not be the best one to join me on every walk I take.

In naming that I felt free to make a new decision for myself.

I can walk him first thing in the morning when he’s calmer, and I can reserve my afternoon movement for time alone. And as soon as I decided that, I knew I was ready to run again. Yes, it helps that I have a race to train for in April (fingers crossed!), but it’s more than that. I’m no longer depending on Steve to change in order for me to do what I desire — train for a race.

So, I’m beginning again. It’s not easy to put on my running shoes and leave Steve behind, but once I get on the street and move my feet, I’m not worried about him anymore. I’m concentrating on breathing instead ;)

Choosing to live in the midst of life requires me to pay attention, notice and name. When I slow down and allow myself the space to follow that process, I know I’ll find my way back home.

Living in the midst means I always have the opportunity to begin again.

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