Before I became a Certified Separation Anxiety Trainer (CSAT), I had been running long-distance races — half and full marathons — for almost 15 years. What I hadn’t anticipated when I started my journey to become a CSAT was how much I would draw from my experiences as a distance runner to help my clients understand the “why” and “how” of separation anxiety training. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint” became my go-to metaphor for making sense of the process of helping a dog overcome their separation anxiety. Here’s why.
It turns out that the process that helped me cross those race finish lines is quite similar to the one that helps dogs overcome separation anxiety. Over time, progress is built slowly, steadily, and with intention, going at the dog’s pace every step of the way.
If you’ve ever trained for a race, you know the routine. You start small; you meet yourself where you are. Your “long run” initially might be just a few miles, or just around the block, and that’s OK.
In between weekly long runs, you mix in shorter runs, hill work, and rest days. You build your endurance gradually and systematically. Sometimes your longest run of the week is longer than last week’s, and sometimes it’s shorter. Some weeks feel great; others are a slog.
If you take a week off, you don’t throw out your running shoes — you ease back in, protecting the training you’ve done and giving your muscles a little time to adjust.
Most importantly, you learn to pace yourself. If you push too hard, too fast, you risk injury. The irony is that slowing down is often the fastest way to reach your goal.
The same is true for dogs working to overcome their separation anxiety. Going slow is going fast. Remember, separation anxiety is a true fear of being home alone, a panic issue akin to a phobia. A dog suffering from separation anxiety is not giving you a hard time; they are having a hard time.
Separation anxiety training is a marathon, not a sprint. Changing a dog’s emotional response to a scary stimulus, in this case, alone time, is not a quick fix. It requires a gradual process of building emotional stamina and confidence. That process begins by exposing the dog to very short absences that feel safe and comfortable. That may mean just a few seconds of alone time at first, or even zero seconds. That is both OK and quite common. What’s important is you are meeting the dog where they are and progressing at their pace from the moment you cross that start line.
Just like marathon training, progressing through a separation anxiety protocol isn’t linear. There are rest days. There are setbacks. There are moments where you feel like you’re barely moving forward. Each dog will cross the finish line at their own pace, and sometimes, oftentimes, that’s not the pace of our choice as guardians.
The finish line isn’t about racing to the longest absence as quickly as possible. It’s about helping your dog cross that line without emotional injury — at a pace that keeps both of you in the race until it’s over.
As you move toward that finish line, remember that each step toward it is important. Every training win, no matter the size, is worth celebrating — that first moment of calm when the door closes, falling asleep mid-training session, when you can lock the door without your dog seeming to notice. Over time, those small moments accumulate into lasting progress, and without them, lasting progress would not be possible.
If you ever feel frustrated that this process is taking time, you are not alone, and that is normal. It’s supposed to take time; you’re not sprinting to the end. You’re training for endurance, resilience, and lasting change — for both you and your dog.