It's my weight. My winter weight.
You see, I do this every year to myself. Come spring, I begin to think about getting in shape, and by the end of summer/early fall, I finally feel good.
2007 was the year I began running. It helped me both physically and emotionally. I'll NEVER be a size 4, but dammit, I can, errr....could run a half marathon! Running didn't cause me to lose a ton of weight by any means, but when I was in shape, I simply felt STRONGER. And more confident.
Cut to the end of 2007. I ran my last race on Thanksgiving morning. And have proceeded to do nothing since. Nuthin'. Except, of course, to complain about how fat I am...
And so it begins yet again. The calorie counting. The drinking so-much-water-I-could-puke. Removing my coat from the exercise bike where it's hanging and actually riding said bike. Attempting the Fruit Flush diet (a co-worker and I are both going to attempt it next week). Making healthy choices.
(Wahhhhhh! This sucks just typing it!)
So why am I doing this now, in January, the dead of winter in New England, instead of