I am so pissed off about my hip right now.

I am trying to be calm, you know, and see the positive in having something happen that isn't threatening the long-term, but is serious enough to get me to slow down and re-examine my habits. But it's hard, mostly because the idea of being off of my feet and out of the gym for an extended period of time sets off weird alarms in my head, little triggers of things, and it takes a lot of work for me to keep Teh Crazy voices at bay.

I have to rest - and stay off of high heels, as I learned today - in order to get better. It doesn't mean I won't work out next week, or compete in the triathlon, or that I'm going to go back to being a total and complete sloth who slowly works her way back out of shape. It doesn't work that way. I've kept myself in great shape for how many years now? Even when I gained about 20 pounds back in 2005-2006, I was still in good shape and I managed to fully resume my work out routine, which resulted in me losing the 20 in no time flat by 2007.

I know that I'm fine.

But still, it's hard not to feel like you're making the old excuses not to work out. And I think this is how some of us girls who were once really overweight and out of shape get injured and sidelined. We think that if we take one step out of line, we're doomed for good so we push, push, push, as if somehow by pushing through the pain and the misery we'll keep ourselves from ever having to have felt like we once did when we were so out of shape and unhealthy. And that in and of itself is dangerous, unhealthy behavior, right? Overkill is just as bad as underkill. I really love moving, I truly do, but sometimes I have to be careful that my love of working out and being active isn't just a clever disguise for someone with a serious problem. It is a work in progress.

Push, push, push.

It is not an excuse to say that with each step I make my hip aches and smarts. It is not an excuse to realize, by the end of the day, that you aren't risking it and deciding not to go to the gym. But it FEELS like an excuse. It just does. Maybe I should have gone in the morning? Maybe it would hurt less first thing? As it stands, I'm injured from all of the push, push, pushing, and it probably wouldn't matter if I worked out in the morning or night - it's all just one big ouch.

All that said, I'm still frustrated and bummed out. But I'm going to take care of myself, and just eat lots of vegetables and fruit and grains and watch it with the Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs in my freezer - my girlfriends bought me a bag last week and I've decided that when I get back on my feet into training, each week of successful training will merit one, I don't give a rat's ass how food should not be a reward, whatever.

Yum.

So I'm going to go play Wii for a while, and soak my body in a hot tub with some Burt's Bees salts and pray that it just takes one more day (I haven't worked out since Saturday) before I can get back to moving again. Even just a little.

Posted by Erin at 08:11 PM | filed under: Ouch