Do you want to hear something absurd? When I exercise vigorously and consistently, I gain weight. And not muscle weight. We’re talking good ol’ fashioned junk-in-the-trunk weight. Whenever I decide to become really committed to an exercise program, like a long distance running regime, I end up packing on the pounds and it’s beyond frustrating. The whole reason I try to exercise is to get rid of the faithful jiggle in my jaunt. I know, I know, I should exercise for the sheer thrill of it, the delightful sensation of my lungs collapsing, and the delicious burn in my muscles from lifting dumbells. But by nature, I am not an athlete, and don’t find enjoyment in extreme exertion. I love walking with a friend, or rollerblading along a boardwalk by the beach, or riding a bike on a nice smooth, flat surface, and that’s about where it ends.

I think the reason I gain weight when I am on an exercise kick is that I stop listening to my body as closely. When those late afternoon munchies hit, I say to myself, “Well, you can have a few dozen cookies, because you went for a run this morning.” Yeah, see the run probably burned a mere 200 calories and I jusy consumed 1800. You do the math. It’s a bad scene.

But, when I am not exercising, I am much more cautious about the amount of food that goes into my mouth because I know I won’t be burning it off. This summer I started a running program and I was putting in about 40 kms a week. I was proud of how I was pushing myself and it was nice to see the improvement in my cardio ability. For 2 grueling months I roused at 6:00 am to jog around my hilly beighbourhood, and do you think I lost an ounce? No sir. The scale did not budge.

So I quit. (There’s that Olsen perseverance!)

And in the 2 months since I hung up my runners, I have lost nine pounds.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? I guess if I just keep on not exercising I will eventually reach my goal weight. Now that’s a program I can stick with!