Yesterday was a milestone run for me. At 6.39 miles, it was my longest run since "the hip incident" and I did it in an hour.
Now, I am not going to get in Guinness for a pace like that, but it's fast for me right now. I'd like to say I set out to run fast, but the truth is it was COLD and I needed to keep moving to stay warm.
I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Proud of myself. Stronger.
When my husband climbed into bed last night and pushed on my good hip (Not for the reasons you're thinking, perverts! To move my already half-asleep butt out of his "half" ...), I yelped.
"Do that again!" I demanded.
He started poking at my bursa-area. (LOL. That sounds sort of dirty, too, doesn't it?)
Hell's bells. It was sore. So I flipped over and gave yet another order. (This is where you make a joke in your head about how bossy I am in bed.)
"Poke on this side!"
He did. Sure enough, it hurt worse on the bad hip.
I hadn't noticed it during the day. But there it was.
I decided to run again this morning. Only 5 miles. Slowly. And right now I'm all kinds of stiff and sore everywhere.
Curses!
Last weekend, my long runs were on my treadmill. Yes, the distance was a bit farther yesterday. But I think the main difference was running on the pavement vs. a cushier, shock-absorbing belt.
I have never noticed this before. Probably because I broke up with my treadmill to run outdoors last fall and never "mixed" the two during half marathon training. Me and the road were in an exclusive relationship, if you will.
I'm increasing my Advil and my hip strengthening exercises. I'm vowing to only run hard two days in a row max, and if it's two long days, one must be indoors ... at least until I can get this figured out.
Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.
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