Christmas is over now and while there is sadness every year when Christmas has come and gone, I can't say that part of me is happy.
Usually, it's the part of me that has absorbed the brunt of the damage the holiday season brings: stomach, hips, thighs...
It's over. The indulge-fest known as the holiday season is no more. I was going to write a whole thing on it but my newest blog buddy has said plenty on the matter, and she really took the words right off of my fingers. Santa didn't bring me all the fitness stuff I longed for (okay, he didn't bring me any of the fitness gear I had hoped) and I think it was because I was a bad boy this season, bad in terms of food. Too many cookies, muffins, breads - and much of it was my own doing, stuff that I made. But now it's gone and I can stop playing pastry chef.
In terms of what it means to me, I am hoping to make it out to the gym today. I'd rather run outside but I don't know if I can swing that, so a trip to the gym is my next-best option. I was supposed to have some soccer games to officiate today but they all got rained out (waterlogged fields from the week's rains) so I need to figure out some sort of physical activity on my own.
Even if post-Christmas duties (like cleaning the disaster known as my kitchen) take over, I can take solace in one fact: no goodies for me today, unless you count the cup of coffee I'm sipping while typing away. I've got some broccoli in my fridge that is begging to be transformed into some soup, and carrots and apples that are longing to be consumed as my a.m. snack.