Almost exactly one year ago I decided that I was tired of being fat and sad. I was tired of crying in dressing rooms...and in my bedroom...and in the shower...and in the living room...and in my car...and...well, you get the picture. I decided that I was going to start exercising again. Before I continue what will be a very long (you've been warned) post, let me just mention that I make a lot of assumptions of my readers. I assume that people who read this actually know me in real life and therefore know a few things about me. I assume you all know the following, and if you don't already know, now you will: I was naturally skinny my entire life until the age of 22. I'd been relatively active throughout my life even though I lived for a year off of doritos and easy mac. I've run a half and full marathon. I went from being around 145lbs to probably 220lbs in the span of roughly 15 months. I've battled severe depression for a large portion of my life. I'm...