Not at all competitive

Just one more thing about the gym and then I promise I'll quite posting about my exercise habits. For a little while, anyways.

My hip hurts. In what I think is my hip flexor. I'm not even 100% sure what a hip flexor is, but that's what I started referring to this as, back when I first started running 10 years ago and noticed it then. That was way before Google or Wikipeda or anything, but I heard the term once, and it sounded about right, and now it's just stuck in my brain.

Let me clarify: my hip hasn't hurt for ten years straight. Both hips alternately hurt for maybe the first two (three? five?) years as a runner. Just a dull, harmless ache that would remind me to stretch and sometimes take it easy. And then, one day, they just magically didn't hurt anymore, no matter how much running I did, and I chalked it up to luck or strength or the treadmills at my gym. Eventually, I forgot that they were ever a problem. And so it ceased to be a problem at all.

I've spent at least the last five-plus years pain-free, save for minor shin splints which tells me that it's time to get new sneaks. Even back in April, when I was running 10 miles at a time, it was without incident. But shortly thereafter, when I cut back my mileage and upped my speed, I started noticing the familiar ache.

It has never really been a problem until today. I can't blame Barry's Boot Camp. While it felt like a fabulous workout, it didn't do much more for my body than make me tired. So last night, when I was at the gym, I figured I would run for 30 minutes or until my body resisted - whichever came first. Thirty minutes is a pretty standard/basic run for me; I'll do shorter runs if I'm concentrating on weights that day, but if I'm doing cardio, usually aim for at least 40-45 min, if not more. But when I started the treadmill, a really good song came on the iPod. So I raised the speed just a bit. Then I noticed that I was doing well at the speed, and kept it up, thinking that as long as I was exceeding my average, I could stop sooner. But before I could realize that thought, SHE got on.

There is this girl at my gym, who, bless her, is adorable. She is perky and blond and friendly and knows everyone there - essentially, because she works out for two hours a day, every day. I haven't actually met her yet, usually because I am that bitter, surly girl who doesn't make friends with bubbly blonds with better bodies; but it's only a matter of time until I befriend her and ask her what kind of energy drink she injects into her bloodstream to make her so impossibly perfect.

Anyway, she got on the treadmill next to me, and I couldn't see her screen, but I was sure she was running faster than I. And yes, she may be five years younger and in better shape from her marathon workout sessions, but I refused to amble along beside her. So I raised my speed. And fell easily into that groove. But then - she saw my raise and raised me! She tried to win at my game! Since I was doing so well at 7.2, with only ten minutes to go, I raised her again to 7.4. I still couldn't see her treadmill, but I could see her hitting the speed button every few minutes, as did I, until I was at 29:30 and 7.8 and then she hit the Stop button and quickly walked off. (Her Spin class was starting. Natch.)

I was disappointed that she didn't stick around, but I was satisfied I had won that match, the one I was playing by myself in my head. Hey - I'll take pride where I can get it, even if it is completely fabricated. I headed to the mat, did a ton of extra stretches, and then grabbed my gym bag and left, feeling fabulous.

That feeling lasted the entire 35 minute drive home, until I got out of my car and found a meatball where my hip had been only an hour before. I limped upstairs, and applied my muscle cream, but that did nothing to ease the tension. All day today, it hurt to walk, and while I would love to blame it on my delicious Prada heels, the problem lied within my hip. I took the night off from the gym, and am hoping to feel better tomorrow.

I have a feeling someone might want a rematch.

And yes, that someone might be me.