The Affair

It's hard when you first realize it.
The lack of presence.
That feeling that the magic is gone from the relationship.
And the knowledge that there is happiness between others where there had once been happiness at home.

I can't really blame anyone though. I was laid up in bed for freaking weeks. WEEKS.

And when I wasn't in bed, I was at school.

or coughing.

or coughing at school.

It was hard for me this spring, watching the secret smiles exchanged when no one was looking. Hearing the gasps and giggles, among other breathless noises that made my mind race. The time spent apart grew longer and longer and I found myself wondering, "how in the world is this happening to me?" and "will it ever go back to the way it was?"

I'm not sure when it started, and and I don't really have proof, but I'm pretty sure my Mojo was having an affair with another runner for the entire pre-season.

"Damn that Mojo! For breaking my heart like this!" I ranted and raved!

I crawled out of bed and got in the pool where I dragged myself through the paces. I felt like a fish out of water, only I wasn't. I was a lame swimmer with a bum leg. And Mojo doesn't have time for that. "Aint nobody got time for that".
I hit up a spin class to regain the stamina, thinking, "if I am fit, Mojo will want to come sweat with me." But it didn't work. Mojo likes the outdoors and sunshine.

Eventually I got on my bike. I struggled and cried my way through the lonely miles while the wind snatched my breath from parted lips. I finished each ride gasping and sad, mourning for my Mojo.

Mojo was clearly out running a Marathon.
Mojo had obviously headed out to a rainy Triathlon.
Mojo showed no signs of returning to me in a timely fashion.

I missed my Mojo but I wasn't going to sit at home and lament the loss. I hit the streets and searched for ways to get my Mojo back.

I saw Doctors and Dietitians and Chiropractors and Therapists ... ok, technically she was a massage therapist.  I sought the advice of coaches and coaches and coaches. And more coaches.  They all assured me, if I kept up the work, my Mojo would come back to me.

And so about a week ago I had THE BEST RIDE EVER. It was the easiest 33 miles I have ever done. It was the hardest 33 miles I have ever done. I finished feeling accomplished and spent. But I knew I could do it. I hardly dared look, but it became clear to me by about mile 20 that my mojo had returned. At least for a day.

And then on Saturday, again. Mojo was with me on the ride. Right there, where I could almost taste our shared energy! The thirty miles melted under my tires.

Today... again. My Mojo showed up at 5 this morning. We nodded to each other as I checked my tires and snapped my helmet into place. From the beginning of the ride, we were together. We laid out 16 miles before the rest of the world was awake. It was freaking brilliant.

It seems Mojo has come back to me, though I'm hardly celebrating a permanent return.

We've entered an uneasy truce. And while I'm hopeful Mojo will stick around for a few more rides, I know Mojo could leave again without a moment's notice.

~enjoy the ride~