When the dog wouldn't walk: A personal journey in behavioural change

After our dog Evie had to undergo knee surgery, her aftercare meant I had to be with her 24/7 for 28 days post-op. Twenty-eight days doesn't seem particularly long, but when you're someone like me who has worked hard to develop routines that maintain regular exercise, it can have a significant impact. This experience revealed something crucial about how fragile our carefully built habits really are and how I'd somehow made my own wellbeing dependent on a dog.

The setup: when life disrupts our systems

It all began about 12 months ago when I noticed Evie becoming sometimes reluctant to go on her morning walk. This daily walk had become my ritual, the thing that got me moving, away from my desk, had helped shift menopause weight, and had lifted my mood for years. Over the following months, these daily walks became every other day, then twice a week, getting shorter and shorter, until we reached the point where she wouldn't go beyond the garden gate. She looked fine and seemed to be moving well, so I thought maybe it was all in her head as she was a little highly strung and almost 12 years old too. 

But here's the problem: as her walking reduced, so did mine. I noticed the effects creeping up on me - my weight, my mobility, my headspace - and so I tried to walk on my own, but found it much less enjoyable and much more difficult. This weighed heavily on me because I was afraid of falling back into the old ways I'd worked so hard to change.

The science behind behavioural patterns

Changing behaviours is challenging and requires repeated practice at new actions, in my case, moving my body daily and getting outside, into daylight. At first, it was difficult for me to find the time to walk, but after a while, it became part of who I was. This is part of something I'd learned through a short course I had taken on neuroscience for coaching under the guidance of Amy Brann that we can change our behaviour by developing new neural pathways. Think of it like creating new walking routes: the more often you take a path, the clearer and easier it becomes to follow.

Our old behaviours don't disappear; they're still there, like the original well-worn path. But when we consistently practice new behaviours, these fresh pathways become stronger until they feel automatic. The trouble is, however, that stress or disruption can send us straight back to those older, more familiar routes.

This is what neuroscientists call 'neural pathway dominance.' Dr Joe Dispenza's research shows that when we repeat new behaviours consistently, we strengthen these pathways until they become the brain's preferred route. But when life throws us a curveball, like an injured dog, we can default back to older patterns without even realising it.

For women in midlife, this is particularly significant. The hormonal changes we experience during perimenopause and menopause can affect our dopamine and serotonin levels, making it harder to maintain motivation for new behaviours. Understanding this isn't about making excuses, it's about being strategic in how we approach change.

I had read and studied this area of the brain as part of my coaching training and had applied the principles to myself over the years, as well as with clients, so I knew how successful these approaches could be. However, I was at risk of sabotaging myself because change had occurred that I had no control over, and so I needed to make new changes and develop new behaviours to mitigate this disruption.

The psychology of external dependencies

This all happened quite slowly, over the course of 12 months, and it was only after investigation into what was wrong with Evie that surgery was advised. It was during the recovery following the surgery, when I lost my routine completely, that I realised I needed to shift my focus away from my dog as the reason I can be exercising and place the responsibility upon myself. I needed to make a date with me, not the dog. It was a eureka moment. I suddenly realised how I had shifted the responsibility of my own physical health onto my dog!

Psychologists call this "external locus of control" – when we attribute our behaviours and outcomes to external factors rather than our own actions. Research by Julian Rotter shows that people with an internal locus of control (believing they control their own destiny) tend to be more successful at maintaining behavioural changes and have better mental health outcomes.

This really struck home for me as a woman over 50, who had spent decades prioritising others' needs. Without realising it, I'd created an external dependency for my own self-care. I was waiting for the right walking companion rather than taking responsibility for my own wellbeing.

The good news!

Research shows that it takes an average of 66 days to form a new habit, though this can range from 18 to 254 days depending on the complexity of the behaviour. What's encouraging for women over 40 is that our neural plasticity, our brain's ability to form new pathways, remains active throughout our lives, though it requires more intentional effort as we age.

Understanding this science helps explain why my walking routine with Evie felt so automatic after months of consistency, and why losing it felt so disorienting. The good news is that rebuilding doesn't have to start from scratch. Our brains retain the neural pathways we've already created, making it easier to reestablish habits than to build them initially. This means that even when life disrupts our healthy routines, we're not back at square one; we're simply reactivating dormant patterns that are already wired into our system.

The coaching perspective: control and choice

In coaching, we talk a lot about what we as individuals can control and what we can't. The only person we can control is ourselves and that includes our thoughts and actions. Was I really using my own pet dog as my only reason to exercise, believing that if she didn't walk, then neither could I?

Stephen Covey's Circle of Control model illustrates this perfectly. We have things we can control (our actions, reactions, choices), things we can influence (our relationships, our environment to some degree), and things we cannot control (other people's actions, unexpected events, ageing pets). Energy spent focusing on what we cannot control depletes our capacity to act on what we can.

The breakthrough: taking back control

So there I was, one Friday morning on day 10 post-op, lying frustrated in bed after another bad night with Evie. That's when it hit me: my self-pity of "I can't do that because of this" was actually a really poor excuse. My husband was in the house and, although he was working, he could easily watch Evie for an hour so I could get outside and walk. The sun was shining and, with Autumn heading towards us, I wanted more than anything to go for a walk. Alone!

I didn't need Evie to take me for a walk. Instead, I grabbed my headphones and a podcast (The Rest is History—a personal favourite). And do you know what? I absolutely loved it!

I had shifted the responsibility back onto myself. I'd thought through what I could do to replace my old way of doing things with a new approach that worked for me, without relying on Evie.

This moment represents what psychologist Albert Bandura calls "self-efficacy" – essentially, it's our inner confidence telling us that we can actually do what we set out to do. Think of it as the voice in your head that either says "I've got this" or "I can't handle this." It's not just believing change is possible in general, but believing that you, specifically, have what it takes to make it happen.

Self-efficacy becomes crucial for women in the second half of life as we navigate multiple transitions and challenges that can erode our confidence in our ability to change and adapt. When we understand what's happening, it helps us think rationally about challenges rather than getting overwhelmed by emotions when something we've always done suddenly feels impossible, or we lose our confidence.

The bigger picture: why this matters for women 40+

We all have responsibility for ourselves, and if that means going to an uncomfortable place, then we have to ask ourselves the difficult questions about why we'd make challenging changes. In my case, having watched family members lose their mobility (as well as their minds in some cases) through not doing difficult or challenging things, I was determined not to be that person sitting in a chair waiting for someone to move, feed or bathe me. I wanted to be in control of myself.

If I was going to do this, I had to commit to making changes, but I knew those changes had to be in a form that I wouldn't resist, rather, I would look forward to them. There had to be enjoyment as well as purpose.

The Harvard Study of Adult Development, one of the longest-running studies on human happiness and health, consistently shows that the choices we make in our 40s, 50s, and 60s significantly impact our quality of life in later years. Physical activity is one of the strongest predictors of healthy ageing.

For women, the stakes are even higher. We lose muscle mass at a rate of 3-8% per decade after age 30, and this accelerates after menopause due to declining oestrogen levels. The World Health Organisation identifies physical inactivity as the fourth leading risk factor for global mortality, and women are generally less active than men across all age groups.

The reality check: facing our future selves

There's a question I like to ask my clients when they've identified changes that could shift them towards what they want their future self to have, but which require effort and commitment now: "What happens if you don't do something about this now?"
Behavioural psychologist Dr Hal Hershfield's research on "future self-continuity" shows that people who feel more connected to their future selves are more likely to make decisions that benefit them long-term. This is particularly powerful for women in midlife, as we're at a critical juncture where our current choices will significantly impact our later years.

Key takeaways for sustainable change

Reflecting on this experience through the lens of both personal growth and professional coaching, several principles emerge:
Neural plasticity never stops: I know from my own experience how true this is. As little as ten years ago, a woman of my age (60+) would be more likely to be gently stepping into retirement than undertaking a postgraduate course. We simply have to give ourselves time, space and patience with new processes, and not be afraid to try.

External dependencies are fragile: As we age – including our family, friends and pets – it's important to remember that, whilst it's lovely to share experiences like walking, swimming or even going to the cinema with others, we must never rely wholly on someone else to do these things.

Identity shifts are powerful: One of the most empowering realisations is discovering how much control we have over ourselves without relying on others. Moving from "I'm someone who walks with my dog or a friend" to "I'm someone who prioritises daily movement with or without a companion" creates a more robust foundation for lasting change.

Community and support matter: While we must take personal responsibility, having support systems makes the journey more sustainable and enjoyable. Not relying on one individual but instead joining a class or forming a walking group are excellent ways to combine movement with social interaction.

Walking for me and not someone else

My walks now don't centre around the need to walk the dog, because I know she'll want to walk less and over shorter distances as she ages. I've shifted the emphasis from her needs to my own. I now look forward to my walk and a podcast, where I'm not only listening to something I enjoy but also learning something new.

An unexpected outcome to the changes I’ve made recently has been conversations with my husband about the podcasts I'd just listened to, sharing this newfound knowledge. We’ve found ourselves discussing topics we'd never talked about before, which opened entirely new dimensions to our conversations.

For women navigating the complexities of midlife and beyond, understanding these principles isn't just about forming better habits, it's about reclaiming control over our own wellbeing and designing a second half of life that reflects our values, priorities, and aspirations without relying on anyone else.

The dog may not always want to walk, but we can choose to keep moving forward.

Something to think about

1. What external dependencies have you created in your own life?
2. What would change if you shifted full responsibility back to yourself?

These are the questions that can transform not just our daily routines, but our entire approach to the second half of our lives.