Dangerous reactions to stress

It's crunch time at my job.  In a big meeting this morning, my coworker leaned over to whisper about how stressed he's been feeling: "I upped my run to 10 miles this morning, and I purposely took the hilly route." 

What?!

I resisted the urge to take him in my flabby arms, shake him violently, and declare him a freak.  After all, that would have involved showcasing my flabby arms.  And charitably, I am able to admit that it wasn't his fault my breakfast consisted of a poptart and a can of Coke.

It's times like these that I wonder if I've been slipped a defective gene.  I have been feeling a tad stressed lately, too.  Has it resulted in additional exercise?  Negative.  I can barely surface from snuffling around in my McDonald's bag long enough to change channels on the remote. 

Why do some people react to stress by hurtling themselves into the nearest pile of comfort food, while other (freakish) people react in healthier ways? 

Exercising, for me, is difficult even under the most promising circumstances.  When life gets tough, whether it's work or parenting, I often turn to my triumvirate of vices: eating, drinking and smoking.  Ideally, all three in the same evening.  Thus a cycle is created: I am virtuous and healthy... something stressful occurs... I misbehave... and, feeling yucky after misbehaving, I blow off being virtuous... you can see where this is leading.

It's been several months since I have visited my gym, and I recently had an embarrassing run-in with the gym's owner.  I was desperate enough for espresso that I hit the coffee shop/tanning salon in my small town.  (Yeah, that's another post altogether.)  And there she was, looking trim and perky as always.  I said hello without actually meeting her eyes and ordered a skim, no flavor, definitely no-whip latte.  To go.

My fit coworker confided that he's also had an embarrassing gym moment recently.  Apparently the front desk clerk raised a definite eyebrow after he visited three times in one day.  There truly must be something wrong with him.  And he seems so normal on the outside! 

Perhaps my coping mechanisms aren't so terribly outlandish after all.