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Two years ago when I began my exercise routine of walking and jogging, my German shepherd dog played a huge role in getting me out each day. She was a healthy, happy, puppy-like 6-year-old dog with a desire for adventure and endless amounts of energy. She was well-behaved in the house, all 1000-pounds of her, lying around, trying not to get in the way, never getting into anything; but put her outside in sight of a squirrel or with a leash attached to her collar, and she could run forever. I knew she would help me jog and exercise through the long winter months in Maine when most people stayed inside by the fire.

I bundled up against the winter freeze, wearing layers of wicking material, fleece, gloves, and a headband. My dog was wearing her thick, shaggy winter coat and bright pink collar. We always jogged first thing in the morning when the air was crisp and frigid, the sky was light but the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon, and the world had not yet come alive for the day. Many mornings found us jogging on freshly fallen snow. These were my favorite times - leaving our lone footprints along the roadside, breathing in the frozen air, seeing the occasional snow bird flit through the boughs of the pines, heavy with snow.

I was a new jogger so the going was sometimes tough. I was still learning to pace myself and I always had in the back of my mind the idea that I wanted to go faster. My chug-along 11-minute mile wasn't enough for me. I had subscribed to the running magazines and read all about speed work, 5Ks, 10Ks, and of course, marathons. I wanted to be part of the action; but having just begun jogging at age 36, I had a long way to go just to catch up. My dog didn't care how fast or slow we went. It sometimes annoyed me that I was panting and exhausted at the end of a 3-mile run, but she could have gone forever.

We jogged on into the springtime and summer, I exchanging my fleeces for tanks and shorts, and she shedding her heavy winter coat. The next winter we had much more snow and ice than the winter before and I found myself heading to the local gym to run the treadmill rather than risk a sprain. Consequently, my dog didn't get out as much.

She's now 8-years-old and for a shepherd, she's well into middle age. Sadly, we realize she probably has two or three good years left. She can't go as far now when we jog, so sometimes we simply walk. She has arthritis and limps a bit when we first start out. She doesn't jump up as eagerly when I get out the leash; sometimes she groans and gets up slowly. I have to admit, sometimes I'm glad she's holding me back. I have a new perspective about running; like it is for my dog (or was) it should be fun for me, with a sense of adventure in mind. And when I'm tired and achy, I should give myself a break; after all, I'm not getting any younger.