Ever so slowly, the little arrow on the scale keeps creeping higher and higher. I try to lie and tell myself its muscle mass I am gaining. I mean I am running more than ever before. I even added swim and those spin classes to the mix.
Sucking in when I button a pair of jeans and the visibly forming man-boobs when I wear a favorite t-shirt tell a different story though.
I’ve run for more than three years. My body’s gotten pretty efficient at going the distance. I am also almost 40. I’m sure my metabolism is starting to sloooow down.
Plus, I’ve always been a comfort eater with a sweet tooth.
I’ll swear to myself that I won’t eat any cheeseburgers THIS month. I end up not only breaking that promise, but follow it up with a bowl of ice cream or a bottle of my favorite craft beer.
And no, this post isn’t a declaration for better eating. I’m making no dramatic promises.
I’m just reminded that endurance running isn’t a promise against weight gain. I constantly fall under the delusion of many runners that “the exercise makes them hungry or gives them the perception they cannot gain weight if they are active, so they eat more.”
It doesn’t help that I have a pretty sedentary job, sitting on my ass in front of a computer screen, munching on free candies brought by co-workers 9-hours a day. Did I mention my impulse control problems?
Anyway, sometimes, just writing out what’s bothering me is a friendly reminder that the problem is there and I cannot ignore it away.
So, hello belly flab. I hate you. I put you there. Only I can make you go away. I’ll do it as soon as the wheezing while running gets too bad and the pants buttons pop.