If you were to visit my house and peek inside my medicine cabinet, you’d see a calendar pasted there. Two printed pages, dated March and April
→26,000 voices of aspiring princesses (and an occasional prince) sang in unison to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” prior to the blast of fireworks that lit up the 5:30
→It surprises me every morning. My alarm begins ringing, and I fumble for the phone thinking someone is calling before I remember my scheduled workout. I
→You know all that empowering stuff about how we should love our postpartum bodies because we grew a person and gave our children life and all
→I can’t straighten my arms today. And I haven’t been able to for over 24 hours. The pain is excruciating, and I think I may just
→I woke up a couple months ago knowing that my exercise routine was not enough. It was time to hire a personal trainer to help find
→Recently I read a post from Sandra at Absolutely Narcissism. It’s about starting a new revolution about fitness. It spoke to me deeply and I wanted
→In the summer of 1994 my hometown hosted the Commonwealth Games. I really got into it – I went to some of the events and some
→The slap of my feet against pavement, the strains of my favorite songs in my ear buds, the stress of my day…all those are powerful motivators
→Summer is bathing suit season. It is a time that brings on insecurities in many women. For me, wearing a swimsuit this summer was not just