I lost it and finding it again has been difficult. I’ve looked in my closet among old running bibs from past completed races. I’ve tried to ease it out of hiding with the promise of new shoes. I check each day to see if it has been inadvertently folded among my dry fit shirts. Sometimes, even beautiful new running socks will not lure it back. The smooth comfortable feeling of enclosing runners’ feet in fresh, not yet laundered, soft, stretchy and resilient supportive socks is often enough to bring back running mojo. But this has been a difficult reconciliation. Sometimes giving new socks to your running mojo is like offering treats to your cat.
I stand in my cat’s room and shake the treat bag, producing the unmistakable sound of yummy cat goodness rattling from the bottom of the package. The cat simply cannot resist. She will come even when she is angry. My cat will come even if she doesn’t know you, and that is a big deal for her because she doesn’t really like people very much.
It is a well-known saying among runners, “If you buy socks, your mojo will return.” There is an equally well-known cat owner saying, “If you offer treats, your cat will deign to acknowledge your existence.”
Well yesterday, even without new socks, although I admit to relatively new shoes, I briefly found my running mojo. I’ve been slowly but persistently chasing it for about six weeks now. I’ve been walking after it and running after it. I’ve been nonchalantly trying to approach it through lunges and hip flexor stretches.
Yesterday I even went out into the rain to find it and I caught up with it about a mile from my house. “There you are,” I joyfully said, as I felt myself move into an easy smooth motion while running along the path. “Where have you been? Will you stay for a while?”
My mojo shrugged. We both know it is whimsical in its comings and goings and woefully unable to make an ongoing commitment. I treat it carefully; just like my cat who has finally decided to acknowledge my presence again after her disgruntlement over a house guest.
“I’m glad to see you.” I say to both these quixotic creatures. Come on over here and let me help you feel comfortable and welcome.
I return home from my rainy day run feeling exhilarated by the company of my long-lost running mojo. I’m pleased to be happily greeted by my previously angry cat.
All is right in the world until I sit down at my desk.
“Oh no!” I have now clearly offended my writing mojo and it has left entirely.
I guess I will sit here and try to coax it back with esoteric words and deep thoughts, but I imagine that will annoy my cat and my legs will probably start to stiffen up again as well.
There is an old writing saying, “If you buy it a new notebook, it will come.”
But all these sayings aside, there is one rule that is true forever. It is the two mojo rule. Only two at a time.
I need to get some work done.
Maybe I’ll take a break and go irritate my cat.