Man, January took a toll on my body. I spent Christmas like everyone else:  binge-watching

Making A Murderer

and binge-eating Christmas cookies. Then January rolls around and I (A) get super sick and have to go on steroids, and (B) give up my spot in cycling class due to an anticipated schedule change, a schedule change that didn't happen, but I lost my spot nonetheless.

Having to go on steroids the week after Christmas is #thestruggleisreal enough, but being too sick to work-out for the first half of January is unbearable for someone who gets an emotional release from exercise, as well as most of her socialization for the day. So right now I'm feeling a lot cagey and a little fat.

Am I actually heavier? Who knows. It doesn't serve me to weigh myself. All of my clothes are tight, so probably. Oh, and I broke a Moving Comfort sports bra in half (

in half!!

) this morning trying to put it on.

I'm torn between being a good role model, a good feminist and loving my body, and wanting my jeans to fit. More than that though, I apparently need to exercise and talk to people or I get crazy.

As I finished out 2015, I was doing 7+ hours of swim-bike-running a week, plus 2 personal training sessions and 1 yoga class. I have more or less been working out like someone training for a 70.3 triathlon for 2 years with no break. To say I'm burned out is the understatement of the world. I've got to figure out how to keep my body in the general vicinity of it's current size by doing things I want to do, and may even have fun doing. Stuff like hiking, or twerking. Or paying $10 a month to ride a cardio machine at Planet Fitness for 45 minutes twice a week.

To be cont'd.