Trust.

photo by Tela Chhe

Learning to walk is never easy. As infants, we start with blind trust as we imitate those older than us and attempt to get on our feet. With the first fall, we begin learning NOT to trust.

Falling hurts. Don't trust the concrete. Don't trust the end table corner. Don't trust whatever it is I just tripped on, leaving my face a half inch deep in blue shag carpet.

Mommy - I can trust Mommy. She'll catch me. If she's not making dinner, cleaning the table, or running that loud machine in the living room that seems intent on chasing me all over the house.

Eventually, we learn to trust ourselves, our own strength and balance, and walking becomes second nature.

For me, I had to learn to walk twice. Once the regular way, then, for the second time, 38 years later. When my left ankle ceased to operate without pain, I took the upgrade option, allowing doctors to lop off my left leg about five inches below my left knee. This meant 6 weeks in bed, followed by the fitting of a prosthetic leg.

There are a lot of factors involved with learning to walk after a procedure like this. For me, I was relatively lucky. No catastrophic injury, so my remaining leg was healthy, the stump smooth and uniform. I was healthy, if a bit overweight, and I had some incentive - I was due to compete in the 2006 World Championship of Public Speaking 8 weeks after being given my first new leg. I wanted to walk across that stage if at all possible - and walk without worry.

Just as I did as a one-year-old, I went through a testing process, learning to trust all over again. To trust that my leg wouldn't hurt when I walked. That I was putting the new leg on correctly. That it wouldn't fall off, buckle under my weight, or slip out from under me. I had to take a leap of faith - trust in something that I couldn't verify ahead of time, since I couldn't feel where my new foot was. I spent many days falling forward, falling backward, totally focused on the leg, instead of walking.

It wasn't until I chose to trust the prosthetic that I began to walk as I had before. To focus on the goal and trust I had the process in place to get me there.

It's easy to spend life looking for better and better processes. Faster, more reliable technology. The next big thing. The silver bullet, sure-fire system to fame and fortune. Is it easier to focus on the method instead of the goal? Do we feel we have control over methods, but not the results?

Certainly, finding a good system/process/prosthetic is important. But there comes a point when we need to Trust in the process we've given ourselves, instead of waiting for something better. To focus on where we're going more than how we're getting there. You rarely get where you're wanting to go by focusing on your toes, synthetic or otherwise.

Trust is a good thing - and remember - after you learned to walk - you learned to RUN.