the weight of marriage

Okay, seriously. Marriage makes you fat. Or maybe Minnesota winters make you fat. Or maybe getting married during a Minnesota winter makes you fat.

For clarification, I know I'm not fat. It's more flabby-out-of-shape-my-jeans-don't-fit. I was okay with it for the first couple months, enjoying married life, and didn't really think twice about the days that ticked by without a workout. And then both John and I found ourselves with a closet full of clothes that were a bit too tight, and we realized that our nights of snuggling on the couch while eating baguette and cheese were coming to a close.

In March we decided to go the old "21 Days to Make a Habit" route and get our butts to the gym *nearly* every morning. (Things sort of fell apart the week we went down to San Antonio but we hopped back on the horse when we got home.) Now, roughly a month later, I've already seen gains in fitness and can zip (but not comfortably wear) my jeans. Progress!

Now I'm starting to get the itch to race...


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