Day 346.
On the train back to NYC. When I think of where I was this time last year, I want cry with relief and gratitude. Everything hurt because I was drinking too much and moving too little. My back hurt, my feet hurt, I hurt my shoulder in my sleep, I felt like a joke. I felt old. I felt tired.

Today, everything hurts for a different reason. Because I punched and elbowed and kicked and rolled the sh!t out of myself this weekend. It was the perfect culmination of a year of reclaiming my power and fighting for myself.  And in this all-female environment, it was awesome to encourage other women while I was holding the target pads: “send me flying! Kick me harder!” And as someone who turned fifty this year, it was a nice antidote to the “at your age” bullshit. Ifeel so powerful, like I could wail away on a bag when I get home. And I found that I can strike like a freight train. This weekend is the second-best thing I’ve ever done for myself, and I couldn’t have done it without the best thing I’ve done for myself.