Back in 2003, I had a passive-aggressive undersized schnauzer named Pepper. That April, I decided to take the initial steps toward weight loss and exercise; I grabbed her leash and headed outside with her. She always loved walks.

We had about an acre and a half at that particular house, and it sat on a well-traveled road. I’d head out the back porch with her, and we’d walk our way around the edge of the yard; around the storage shed, down by the pond, up past the peach trees, down the side of the driveway, across the front yard, and back to the house.

The infamous Bonnie, posing here as Captain Camp Dog, her penetrating stare off in the wild distance. (**SQUIRREL!!!!**)

At first, I could only last a couple of minutes. At the beginning of that effort, I weighed around 340 pounds or so, and I walked from the get-go. And it hurt; my hips hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt — but I walked. Every once in a while, I’d add a minute or two. And Pepper was my constant companion, blazing the way in front of me like a fish on the line.

The two of us worked our way up to walking a few miles around the property each day, and my dog would actually try to ditch me when I’d pass the back porch. Sometimes, I’d put her inside and continue my walk, but usually, she was right there with me. We had a set trail in the grass, and a fan club that would honk and wave when they saw us.

Later that year, I joined the gym for the first time in my life. I took things slow, like I did with walking.

By the time a couple years passed and I had lost the weight I was able to lose (140 pounds), I’d gone from barely being able to walk my own yard to walking around 4 miles a day, as well as lifting heavy weights. With my husband’s help, I surpassed an incredible goal: I was able to squat my original weight — and then some. Yep, in my 40’s, never having been a weightlifter before, I squatted 385 pounds as an all-time high.

Fast-forward through all the things that happened between then and now. I regained the weight, and then some; lost some; gained it again, and now, I’m losing it like I did on that monumental journey I took over a decade ago.

Here I am, starting to walk again, this time with my cute little sweetheart of a companion, Bonnie. I’ve lost 133 pounds without exercise, but the time has come to incorporate more movement into my life, and I’ve started by setting daily step goals. I’ve grabbed that leash and headed out; the dog is a little bigger (with a better attitude) and the yard is a lot smaller, but we’re a team, and I’m adding to my goals as I go.

I don’t plan on the same course as I did, before — mostly because my angry knees will not sustain it, and my walking goals are a test to see what my body can do without putting too much impact on my joints. But I must move. Bonnie seems a bit confused at times, but what dog doesn’t like to go out for walks? I try to keep up the same enthusiasm as she does when she sees me pick up the leash and invite her to walk.

Small increments have gotten me this far, and they’ll keep carrying me forward. In the meantime, Bonnie gets a nice workout, too!