Living in Southern California was freaking awesome for my body, y’all. Beautiful, sunny weather beckoning me outside about 350 days out of the year, a neighborhood full of hills to power-walk daily, year-round farmer’s markets loaded up with fresh, local produce on every corner, juice bars abound and a freaking badass health club where I used to fit in twice-weekly yoga sessions and two spin classes per week (plus a Zumba class if I was feelin’ super coordinated). So when we moved back to my Deep South roots, to a small North Georgia town, it was a rude awakening. No spin studios, no farmer’s markets, no spa/health-club hybrids, not a juice bar in sight. The closest spin class: 40 minutes one way – more like an hour in Atlanta traffic. Not happening….