Interestingly enough, I have discovered that taking away Ironman training, but keeping Ironman eating, does not a skinny Megan make.
Now perhaps this is common sense, especially for a girl whose last 15 years of life has revolved around calories counting, dieting and fat banishing. But its not easy telling a body who has easily become used to 2000-calories days that include frequent snacking and guilt-less rides down Candy Cane Lane, that it has to cease and desist all non-functional noshing.
Now, the angry voices of thigh dimples and the slight pocket of extra skin that pushes against the waist band of my jeans are, at times, enough to silence my bottomless pit of a belly, but more often then not, they are working in cahoots with the darn thing. So I can't really count on them to keep me on the straight and narrow.
So it is all up to me to either begin curbing my intake, or moderating/changing that which I put in my mouth. I figured I would chose Plan B, moderation, but I am running out of tasty treats that are small enough, yet healthy enough, to keep my weight maintained in my "off-season" (this is what I am now using to reference my recovery time).