Losing my running mojo

I’ve been following a new training regime for three weeks now.  I’ve committed these legs to move up and down in a forward-moving motion for 14kms in November and somewhere in the middle of all the running (so much running) my bathroom scales stopped working.

I put off buying another set.  I told myself I wouldn’t get them just yet – not until I knew I was closer to my magical number.  The number that lies somewhere between the wedding weight and the breastfeeding diet that only worked with the first child.

I’ve been running distances I haven’t seen since five years ago.  Distances I’ve never even met.  It felt good.  I bought some new scales.

I have not lost a damn thing.

I celebrated by eating a block of Cadbury Marvellous Creations* (I want the creation creator’s number – there might be heavy breathing involved).

I was supposed to run 8 kilometres yesterday and I barely made 3.  I hated being inside my own head.  I wanted a shotgun for the goddamn swooping birds and I had irrationally irritated thoughts about Michelle Bridges and people who take up the entire running track.

My husband pulled out the “muscle weighs more than fat” crap.

I spend a ridiculous amount of each day hating my weight.   I want to be enlightened and not care but I’m not sure I know how to do that.  Skinny jeans mock me from a drawer far, far away and platitudes for a body that created life then fed them don’t work.  And now I’ve lost my running mojo too.  And I’m not sure how to get it back.

* not sponsored

How do you get your exercising mojo back?