One Foot, Then the Next: Finding Trust in Yourself

What does a talking dog, running and rock climbing have to do with finding peace? Running reminds us to place one foot in front of the other, climbing reminds us to pay attention to the 6 feet within our circle of control. We’ll use inspiration from a talking dog from the show Lessons in Chemistry, and how running and rock climbing can help to explore how slowing down, staying present, and trusting yourself can help quiet anxiety and bring you back to solid ground. This is a gentle reminder that you don’t need the whole plan or the finish line. You just need one next step. No fixing. No pushing. Just one foot. Then the next. 💛

✨ Perfect for anyone feeling overwhelmed, stuck, or quietly exhausted. 

Transcript

Hello, my friends. Whether you’ve been here for a while or this is your very first time pressing play, I’m really glad you’re here today. Maybe you’re listening while walking the dog, folding laundry, driving somewhere, or sitting still because you needed a few quiet minutes to yourself. However you arrived here, welcome. And if someone sent this to you, it sounds like they know you might need to quiet your mind and refocus on what’s important. This space exists for moments like this — moments when life feels full or uncertain or heavy, and you want a place to land where nothing needs to be fixed right away. You don’t need to arrive polished or certain or knowing what you need to do. You just need to arrive as you are.

Today, we’re going to talk about feet. Please don’t stop listening, I swear this is not a podiatry show or an only fans episode so let me explain. I want to share a bit about something a dog said that really got me thinking. And no, I really can’t hear dogs talking but wouldn’t that be amazing, the stuff they see and could probably tell us. Like just chill man and stop worrying so much. No, what I want to share is about a show called “Lessons in Chemistry” and what this dog said that made me reflect. If you haven’t seen the show, it’s amazing so far and I”m only about halfway into season one. But the main character was really down and she got out of her funk by walking her dog and then running with him which is what her boyfriend would do. I don’t want to share too much but they showed the dog’s point of view of watching her be so sad but still getting up and moving. And the dog’s dialogue was: “That’s the beauty of running. When you don’t think you can move forward. When you’re sad about your yesterdays or not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow, your purpose is just being there putting one foot in front of the other. One foot, one foot, one foot. It’s all you have to think about. One foot. One foot. And then, sure enough, you’ll be home.” 

And this got me thinking about how just looking at that next step, where your one foot needs to go, that it sounds so simple and almost too obvious yet, when practiced gently and consistently, can change the way we experience stress, anxiety, grief, decision-making, and even our relationship with ourselves. We’re going to talk about taking the next step. Not the entire journey. Not the full mountain. Not the whole marathon. Just the next step in front of you. And we’re going to look at this idea through two metaphors I love — the one I just shared from running and one from rock climbing about how they only focus on the six feet around them — and then we’ll go deeper into the part we don’t talk about enough: trusting ourselves to take that step when fear, doubt, or past experiences make us hesitate.

The quote from Lessons in Chemistry describes the beauty of running, not as competition or achievement, but as a practice of simplicity and presence. When you run, all you really have to do is put one foot in front of the other. One foot, then the next, then the next. You don’t need to calculate the miles ahead. You don’t need to visualize the finish line. You don’t need to predict how tired you’ll be later or whether you’ll still feel strong at the end. You just move. One step at a time.

When I heard that, it really struck me because I realized how often we make life harder than it needs to be by insisting on seeing the whole picture before we move. We tell ourselves we need clarity before action, certainty before effort, confidence before beginning. But running doesn’t work that way. And neither does living. We don’t actually gain clarity by standing still and overthinking. We gain it by moving, slowly and imperfectly, forward.

Most of us don’t struggle because of the step we’re on. We struggle because of the hundreds or thousands of steps we’re imagining ahead of us. We’re not overwhelmed by today. We’re overwhelmed by next month, next year, the long-term consequences, the possible disappointments, the fear that we’ll choose wrong or fail or worse, end up exactly where we started. Our minds race ahead, creating stories and trying to protect us, trying to control outcomes that haven’t happened yet. And in doing so, we exhaust ourselves before we’ve even begun.

But real running, the kind that steadies your breath and clears your mind, doesn’t ask you to solve the whole route. It asks you to stay present with your body. It asks you to trust that the next step will reveal itself once you take the current one. Healing works that way. Growth works that way. Peace works that way too. Maybe right now, life feels like a marathon you didn’t train for. You’re carrying responsibilities you didn’t choose, holding space for other people’s needs, trying to be steady while quietly wondering how much longer you can keep going at this pace. Or maybe you’re in a season of transition — grief, change, uncertainty — and the lack of a visible finish line makes everything feel unstable, and we feel unsteady on our feet. When we’re in those moments, advice like “just keep going” can feel hollow or condescending, without any care. But “just keep going” doesn’t mean push harder or ignore your limits. Sometimes it simply means stay with yourself and take the next step you can take, even if it’s small like we’re always talking about here, even if it doesn’t feel impressive.

This is where the second metaphor comes in — one that deepens this idea and grounds it in safety and trust. Rock climbers are taught something called the six-foot circle. When a climber stretches their arms and legs out, the space they can physically reach — roughly six feet around their body — this becomes their entire focus. That circle is where their safety lives. That’s where decisions are made for the next move, and then that’s where movement happens. Anything outside that circle is intentionally ignored or irrelevant.

Climbers don’t fixate on the top of the cliff. They don’t panic about the route they’ll take thirty minutes from now. They don’t worry about handholds they can’t yet reach. Because focusing on what’s outside their control doesn’t make them safer — it makes them distracted which then leaves them more unsafe and unsteady. Because in climbing, distraction can be dangerous. So instead, they stay present. Where can my hand go next? Where can my foot land safely? What do I need right now to stay steady? And do I need a solid anchor to place into the side of the mountain to feel more secure?

Again, I remember thinking, this isn’t just about climbing. This is about being human. Most of us live far outside our six-foot circle. We worry about conversations that haven’t happened yet. We replay moments from the past, wondering what we should have said or done differently. We try to anticipate every possible outcome so we won’t be surprised or hurt. And while some planning is necessary, living entirely outside our circle keeps our nervous system in a constant state of alert. We’re carrying weight we were never meant to carry all at once. So what if, just for today, we practiced staying inside our circle? What if we asked ourselves: what is actually within my reach right now? What is mine to tend to today? And what is outside my control, even though I keep trying to control it? And what if, gently and without judgment, we set those things down so we can fully focus on our next step, our current climb?

When we combine the wisdom of running and climbing, something powerful emerges. Running teaches us to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, without needing certainty about the finish line. Climbing teaches us to stay present, to focus on what’s within reach, and to let go of what isn’t. Together, they offer a way of living that is grounded, intentional, and kind to our nervous system: stay present and keep going, one small, reachable step at a time. But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough. Knowing this intellectually is one thing. Actually doing it is another. And the reason many of us struggle to take the next step isn’t laziness or lack of discipline. It’s lack of trust — not trust in the world, but sometimes it really comes down to trust in ourselves or the lack of it.

Many of us don’t trust ourselves because, at some point, our trust was broken. Maybe we made a choice that didn’t turn out the way we hoped. Maybe we followed our intuition and got hurt. Maybe we were taught, directly or indirectly, that we couldn’t be relied upon, that we were too emotional or too impulsive or not capable enough. Over time, those experiences taught us to second-guess ourselves. We started outsourcing our inner authority to others. We wait for permission, certainty, or reassurance before moving. Fear often disguises itself as self-doubt. It tells us we’re being responsible or realistic, when really, we’re just afraid of making the wrong move. And so we stall and we overthink. We stand at the base of the mountain trying to plan the entire climb instead of trusting ourselves to take the first reach, that first move.

But self-trust isn’t built by having perfect outcomes. It’s built by showing ourselves, over and over again, that we can respond to whatever comes next. Runners don’t trust their legs because they’ve memorized the route. They trust them because they’ve taken thousands of steps before, they pushed themselves, they recovered from sore muscles, and they grew and survived. Climbers don’t trust the climb because they know exactly how it will go, even on the same mountain the climb is different every time. They trust themselves because they’ve learned how to stay present, adjust, and recover when something feels uncertain. We rebuild trust within ourselves the same way. By taking small steps, maybe falling a bit but noticing that we’re still here afterward. We build trust within ourselves by staying within our six-foot circle and responding to what’s actually happening instead of what we fear might happen. Trust grows through lived experience, not just by mental rehearsals.

When we focus only on the next step, we stop demanding that our future selves have everything figured out and we give ourselves some grace and kindness as we learn. We stop asking today to carry tomorrow’s weight. We allow ourselves to learn as we go. And that’s where peace begins to emerge — not because everything is resolved, but because we’re no longer fighting the present moment.

Let’s bring this into everyday life. If you’re overwhelmed at work, your entire career is not within your six-foot circle. But today’s task might be. One email. One boundary. One honest conversation. If you’re navigating a hard relationship, the entire outcome of that relationship and the next 5 years are not within your control. But how you show up today is. One pause before reacting. One moment of self-respect. One choice to speak kindly to yourself afterward. If you’re grieving or trying to recover from physical or mental damage, healing fully is not something you can force. But today, you might be able to rest, drink some water, step outside for a breath of fresh air, or allow yourself to feel what’s here without rushing it away.

When we try to stop leaping ahead and instead stay with the step we’re on, something shifts in our bodies. Our breath slows. Our nervous system realizes we’re not in danger. Peace doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from presence. It comes from trusting that we can meet the moment we’re in, even if we don’t know what comes next because we trust our experience and how we have handled hard times in the past. There will be days when the next step feels hard, when even staying inside your circle feels like too much. On those days, remember this: you don’t have to run fast. You don’t have to climb gracefully. You don’t even have to feel hopeful. You just have to stay with yourself and feel what you need. Sometimes the next step is rest. Sometimes it’s asking for help. Sometimes it’s choosing not to quit, even when quitting feels tempting. Progress is rarely loud, it’s quiet and ordinary and yes, sometimes painful and hard. It often looks like showing up again after you thought you couldn’t. Like trusting yourself enough to take one more step, even when your confidence is shaky.

I want to leave you with a gentle practice you can return to whenever life feels overwhelming. It’s a simple reflection that begins with a pause when you’re feeling out of alignment. Take one slow breath. Ask yourself, what is within my six-foot circle right now? What is the next small step I can take — physically, emotionally, or mentally? Then do just that one next step. Not more. Not everything. Just that. And when your mind races ahead, gently bring it back, like a runner slowing down and finding their stride, like a climber reaching for their next hold.

This is your reminder that you are not behind and you are not failing as you try for that next step, try for that grip to pull yourself up. You are not broken for feeling overwhelmed. You are human, moving through a very complicated world, doing the best you can with what you have. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stop trying to see the whole path and trust that the next step is enough.

Thank you for being here today. Thank you for showing up for yourself in whatever way you could. If this episode resonated with you today, then think about someone else that you might be able to help by sharing this with them. Maybe someone else feeling overwhelmed, unsteady and needs to learn to find their footing and trust within themselves. Please subscribe or follow this podcast, it really does help even if you don’t listen to every show right away. It will help me and help yourself by getting notified of any new episodes that you might want to listen to later. And seriously, check out Lessons in Chemistry if you like a good love story and a story of a strong woman, working her way thru the world without giving up who she is or fitting the mold of what’s expected. I’m sure I’ll have more quotes from that show in future episodes. I hope you’ll carry these images with you of that one foot in front of the other, and of being on the climb and just moving one steady reach within your circle. That is how you will find your peace, one step, one reach, one small move forward, little by little and peace by peace.