Canicross Saved My Life: How Running with My Dogs Became My Therapy

I never planned to start Canicross. I never thought of myself as a runner. But in 2021, I knew something had to change.

Pepper and I were both stuck in a cycle that wasn’t good for either of us. She was restless, constantly looking for something to do—chewing things, digging, pacing. And I? I was feeling heavy, sluggish, and completely unmotivated. I saw the signs. I knew she needed more. But honestly? I needed more, too.

Canicross Changed Everything

So we started running. Not fast, not far, just a few steps at a time. It wasn’t pretty in the beginning. I was out of breath, Pepper was pulling in every direction, and we had no idea what we were doing. But we kept going.

And little by little, things changed.

Pepper became calmer, more focused. I felt stronger, more capable. The restless energy turned into drive. The frustration turned into progress. And the bond between us? It grew in ways I never expected. Looking back, I can say with certainty: This changed everything.

When Passion Takes Over

I became a trail runner, and Pepper became my best training buddy. After 12 weeks of consistent training during the pandemic, we ran our first 5k! Hooked on that feeling, we kept going. A few weeks later, we conquered our first 10k, and by the end of 2021, we completed our first half marathon.

In 2022, we ran even more together because I had set my sights on Trailvasan 30. In 2023, we explored countless trails, spent endless hours side by side, and ran more miles together than ever before. Our training culminated in my first trail marathon, followed by the Salomon 27k.

Pepper’s love for Canicross is boundless. She shows her excitement before every run, the moment I even touch my running gear.

Broken. I Ran. And I Found Myself.

But that wasn’t the only time Canicross saved me. Life threw me an even bigger challenge. The future I had built crumbled in an instant. Everything I thought was stable disappeared overnight. I felt lost, broken, like I had no control over anything anymore.

In the midst of all that pain, there was one thing that never wavered—Pepper. She was the reason I got up every morning. She needed me, and in truth, I needed her just as much. Every run became a reason to keep going, a moment where I could breathe, where I could feel something other than loss. Canicross wasn’t just a sport—it was survival. It gave me structure when everything else felt chaotic, gave me purpose when I wasn’t sure what was left to fight for.

And then, when I was ready, we made a decision. We welcomed Iluq into our lives—not just as a companion for Pepper, but as a new beginning for me. A new adventure. A new responsibility. He wasn’t just another dog; he was a promise to myself that life continues, that new chapters can still be written, even after the hardest endings.

So I kept running. At first, simply to escape. The weight of everything was too much, and I needed an outlet. But step by step, run by run, the heaviness lessened. I wasn’t just running away from the pain—I was running towards something stronger. Towards healing, towards clarity, towards a version of myself I thought I had lost. Towards healing, towards clarity, towards a version of myself I thought I had lost.

My dogs became my anchors. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t try to fix anything. Pepper ran beside me, steady and strong, always pushing me forward. Iluq, on the other hand, curled up next to me, playing the puppy card, offering warmth and comfort when I needed it most. In their own ways, they both kept me moving—step by step, stride by stride.

When Life Happens

There are days when everything feels like too much. The to-do list never ends, my mind won’t slow down, and stress presses in from every direction.

On those days, I lace up my shoes, clip on the leash, and run.

Not because I have to. But because I need to.

Canicross is so much more than a sport for me. It’s the one thing that keeps me going when life feels heavy.

When I run with my dogs, nothing else matters. The stress, the noise, the endless thoughts—it all fades with every stride. One step at a time, one breath after the other.

I feel their energy, their excitement, their pure joy of moving forward. And in those moments, I remember why I do this.

It’s Not Just for My Dogs. It’s for Me Too.

Some people meditate. Some do yoga. Some escape into books. Me? I run.

Canicross has become my way to cope. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, whenever my brain is racing, whenever stress takes over or I need to make an important decision—running with Pepper and now Iluq always helps me find clarity.

Canicross didn’t just help me heal. It gave me direction. It gave me purpose again. A goal worth chasing. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.

So if you’re feeling stuck—if you’re drowning in stress, heartbreak, or the weight of the world—maybe this is your sign. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to know the destination. Just start.

Put on your shoes. Clip on the harness. Take that first step.

Healing happens one stride at a time.

Have you ever used movement to cope with something difficult? I’d love to hear your story. Let’s talk in the comments.