Losing My Running Mojo and why I'm not stressing about it
My running journey (I hate that phrase, I started running to get out of the house and away from my family, no journey of discovery was ever intended, but here we are) took a “normal” trajectory for a standard club runner entering the usual races- 10km, 10 miles, half marathons, marathons, I stopped at the marathon distance, ultra races never appealed to me even though I love off road events, I just knew I wouldn’t like that much time in my own company. So I’ve ticked quite a few distance ‘boxes’ over the years having racked up 10 marathons to date but an off the cuff question to me last week “where are you with your running?” got me thinking…
Now there’s a question, where am I with my running?
And as a running coach, how should I answer that? Would you rather read that I’m smashing it, that every run is a joy, that I’ve got another spring marathon booked- Barcelona (how cool am I, jetting off to another European city to run through their sunny streets), that my training has already started and I’m racking up those quality miles, weekend after weekend, ponytail swinging in the Autumn sun…
Or would you like to hear the truth, that I’m still struggling to find that colloquial term “running mojo” that runners tend to throw around with wild abandon. A light-hearted and humorous term that is undeniably debilitating, and even though my livelihood depends on being a running coach, an inspiration to run in all weathers with a smile of my face, the truth is that my running mojo has not just left the building, I think it’s emigrated.
I touched on this earlier this year, so I know that feeling like this isn’t new and I know that running isn’t always about unicorns and rainbows. I understand the reasons and I’ve given myself permission to take a step back, I’m not frightened that I’ll never run again, I know I’ll find a new meaningful reason to run again. But in the meantime, I thought I’d just be curious as to the why of why I’ve lost my running mojo.
What is running mojo?
We say we’ve lost it, and I regularly see attendance in our running group fluctuate, but what is it that we lose and with alarming frequency, is it just runners who lose motivation or do we lose motivation to do any kind of exercise?
If “running mojo is finding a flow state in running, making it enjoyable, a sustainable practice rather than a chore” does that mean you lose it when every run feels like hard work?
When I looked into it for this article I wasn’t at all surprised by the statistics on how many people stick with running; it’s common for beginners to struggle to maintain it for six months or more. Factors like injury, lack of time, health issues, or simply not enjoying it are all understandable reasons people might not continue to run. I found research suggesting people need at least one meaningful reason to keep running, and unsurprisingly if we can’t find enough reasons to run then those powerful reasons to not run win, that internal battle of “it’s good for you/I hate it”, often “I hate it” wins hands down.
But I don’t hate running, I love it, so what is stopping me from going, and why are my running buddies feeling the same way? What’s happened?
For the past few years our run club has entered a “fun” half marathon just before Christmas with obligatory fancy dress- it’s the only time anyone will ever get me in fancy dress, and I even say that term loosely, because my version is dressing up as Wednesday from the Adams Family, so neither fancy nor Christmassy, but it’s as good as it gets for me! Anyway, this week I tried to rally the troops to enter this festive half and build some enthusiasm, but I immediately sensed reluctance- a few mumblings about the increase in the race entry cost, how the course was very lonely if you ran it on your own, the goodie bag not up to scratch etc.
I asked myself what’s happened, what’s changed? Are there new webs of barriers that are stopping people from running, from entering events, from putting themselves out there?
Whenever I get this sort of pushback from a group, I often wonder if psychological safety is a factor. Feeling psychologically unsafe—whether consciously or unconsciously—can create barriers that completely halt progress. Creating a safe environment is the main purpose of my running groups, it’s what I lacked when I started running myself, and I’ve seen the difference a focus on this area can have on new runners- literally the difference between continuing running as a lifestyle, and fading away after five months or so.
The SCARF model, developed by David Rock, introduces a neuroscientific framework for creating psychological safety, research supports a deep need for people to feel psychologically safe, when they do their engagement increases up to 76%, their stress is reduced by 74% and they become 50% more productive, these stats look good!
Psychological safety is often defined as feeling it’s okay to take risks, be vulnerable, and make mistakes without fear of judgment or negative consequences. If a runner doesn’t feel psychologically safe—whether in a race, a running group, or even when sharing stats on Strava—they might genuinely worry about being judged for slower times, fear of letting others down, or feel pressured to perform to avoid disappointing themselves or others. But what does this show up as in reality, on a day to day basis? Most likely, speaking from my own experience, self-doubt, stress and avoidance, potentially leading to not only not entering races but also dropping out of running altogether.
Back to the SCARF model of motivation and how it can be applied to running. The model suggests in order to feel psychologically safe we need to be abundant in five areas to thrive. And if we thrive, we’re motivated -
Status: If status is how important we feel within a social group, this could be your running group, Strava, the running community virtually or physically, then it stands to reason that comparison to others or past performances can lead to feelings of a loss of status, and if we take this one step further, if you’ve been out of running for a while due to injury or life, then this perception of not measuring up is a sure-fire way to quash your motivation.
Certainty: We all need predictability and clarity in running, but what happens when uncertain goals, training plans or progress change, as they inevitable do, then mojo fades as unclear outcomes and non-linear training creates stress, undermining confidence, and without a clear sense of direction, motivation can plummet.
Autonomy: I crave autonomy, it’s crucial for feeling in control, I don’t answer to a running coach, the pressure to meet external expectations or rigid training plans isn’t my approach as a runner or a coach, so if you have goals that don’t align with your needs or preferences this can erode motivation leading to burnout.
Relatedness: This resonates with me so much, we’re humans who need social support, we need to feel included, to feel part of a group with strong bonds and sense of belonging, people we can relate to. I’m feeling a bit adrift with who I relate to, I run marathons but they’re “normal” marathons, Paris marathon 2025 has sold out, in my experience this has never happened before, the cost for entry alone was over £150, with a positive correlation for travel and accommodation. How does this make every day runners feel? Is Polzeath marathon a lesser marathon than Paris?
Fairness: I strive always for equality but in the running world this would mean giving everyone the same opportunities, the same access to resources, physios, equipment, races, nutritional support, latest tech, socio-economic resources, enabling runners to line up on the same starting line. The reality is we all have different starting points, some might start a bit further back just because of who they are in terms of gender, race, background, socio-economic status etc. These injustices could lead to feelings of hopelessness, of “what’s the point” and there’s nothing more certain than this to discourage any effort.
Crikey reading through this list, we must be made of steel be to keep going, to fight through this complicated web of barriers. This theory isn’t set in stone, but if like me you’re feeling adrift, I think having a deeper understanding for some of the reasons why you might be feeling the way you do, can so often help towards finding a way back.
But before I could move forward, I had to go right back, back to my reason for running in the first place. Many years ago on a walk with my husband I saw a lone female runner running with her dog, she looked strong, and so capable, I turned to Jamie and said, “I want to be like her”. A few years later, we got a running dog, Finn. I loved him so much and he ran everywhere with me, and when I didn’t feel like running, I went because Finn loved it. Some years later another dog, Ziggy, came along and we all ran together. Finn died 18 months ago, and I stopped running with dogs. In a chance conversation about my running mojo last week with a fellow runner, she asked if I run with my remaining dog and I said no. We talked about the reasons why, was my grief of losing my furry running buddy really stopping me from just heading out for a run with no purpose apart from the pure joy of running with a dog? It hadn’t occurred to me before, so I thought, let’s give it a go, let’s just go for a run with my remaining dog.
So I did, and you know what? Ziggy loved it, but equally importantly, so did I.