Temple.

I was monotonously riding the elliptical today; I say riding because I like to create so much momentum at the beginning that my legs kind of just go on repeat for about 45 minutes. It's like a less fun swing for grown-ups to do so they can eat breakfast.

My mind began to wander. How did I get here? I'm on this hamster wheel next to all these other hamsters. You have bombshell hamster who doesn't sweat and somehow has a ponytail that perfectly keeps the beat of her Taylor Swift techno mix. You have Big Gulp hamster, who puts a Dr. Pepper in the cup holder and hopes for the best. You get in the middle of them so you feel like a mediocre hamster - not the first to get picked from the pet store, but certainly not the one gnawing on its own leg in the corner of the cage - the one who will soon be on sale for 75% off.

I got here because, when I turned 25, my body said to me, "I hope you lived your carb years to the fullest. I'm out. Peace." I went from not knowing what a nutritional label was to reading one like a Nicholas Sparks book (same amount of tears involved). I would slave for weeks only to lose a pound. I would allow myself some birthday cake at a party and subsequently gain 7. There has got to be some angry gremlin harboring my socks and living in my scale.

This time in my life has given me perspective; it has given me empathy for people who didn't even get 25 years of calorie-loading bliss. Now I'm that creeper who accidentally finds herself, mouth agape, staring at beautiful women at the gym. Forget Magic Mike over there grunting like a child making a dirty diaper. My eyes are fixed on that fine lady who doesn't sit up and have sweat streaks on her shirt where the rolls huddle for a break. You lift back up and hello, zebra. But not this gal. Her XS "I Hate Running" tank mocks me from afar: "I love to run. My shirt is just rubbing that in. Salt in the wound. I am about to go run right now actually. Want to join? Of course you don't."

As evidenced by the above paragraphs, I have my days. I have days where I am tired of working hard. I have days where it hits me, in one swift moment: This is the rest of your life. It's only going to get worse. You haven't even birthed an 8 pound human being yet. You might as well sell your soul to this treadmill and strap a weight belt on. This is you. Forever.

 .......

I remember when I was baptized and dedicated my life to Christ. I rose up out of the water and breathed new air into my chest. I was changed. I was pumped. It's like pre-25 when I could (and would) eat an entire log of chocolate chip cookie dough for dinner with no repercussions.

But the second I became a temple of God, the world started trying to trash it - littering it with discouragement and lies from the pits of hell. I went to church a few times a week; I went on mission trips; I joined small groups. Anything I could do to maintain and grow my new spirit.

Staying in shape physically is quite the feat; but staying in constant relationship with God is much, much harder. Yet I often jog on the hamster wheel of doom more than I kneel in prayer. Perhaps it's because saddle bags are more evident to those around me than sin and a pair of jeans buttoning is a greater victory to me than bringing someone to Christ.

It hit me today while the clock on my machine dragged on: my body is a temple. My whole body. Yes, even the stretch marks (I didn't get fat that fast, dumb skin).

You only get one body- so not mistaking mozzarella sticks for carrot sticks is an important first step. But our physical bodies are slowly fading away. I was ever so reminded of that after camp this past week when I couldn't walk or sit down without groaning.

We've got to work, ya'll. Every day of our lives. Forever. Until he comes back for us. It's not going to be easy. You're going to compare yourself to other hamsters. You're going to wonder why your journey has more obstacles in it.

But it will be worth it. I promise. So keep fighting and get back on the hamster wheel.

(Plus, rumor has it, there are carbs with no calories in heaven).