When I graduated college in 2004, I didn't know what I wanted to do professionally, other than run. Unfortunately, I wasn't a collegiate star, I was an NCAA Division 2 All-American. I'd run some quick times on the track, but I was not getting any kind of contract out of school. What I really wanted to do was get onto one of the post-collegiate development teams, like the Hansons or Zap Fitness, but I wasn't quite fast enough. Eventually, I was provided an opportunity to join a group in Eugene, Oregon. It was not one of those upper tier groups, and it didn't provide much in the way of support, but I really felt that I needed to join a group like that to really take my running to the next level. And in addition to that, I felt like I needed to look like a top-tier distance runner. I had this book of some of the best American runners ever, and I would look at the runners who were 5’8” like me, and look at how much they weighed. It was usually between 115 and 125 pounds. When I graduated from college, I was a healthy 140. I got this idea in my head that if I wanted to race at the top level that I needed to look like the guys in my book, and I went for it as quickly as I could. I lost 16-17 pounds and plummeted down to 124 within a couple of months. I cut my calories almost down to nothing. I played this game where I tracked everything I took in, and I could not allow myself to exceed 1,000 calories for the day. And at this time, I was running over 100 miles per week. As you can tell, those numbers don’t add up—you go into deficit pretty quickly, and even though I lost the weight and ran a couple of decent races, it didn’t last long. I suffered three pretty major stress fractures, two in my sacrum, and one in my pubic symphysis.
I was never clinically diagnosed with an eating disorder, but I definitely had disordered eating. My body and mind were not healthy. I got to a place where it wasn’t about performance anymore, it was completely about winning this game of not exceeding 1,000 calories and seeing if I could get down to 120 pounds. I went down that spiral pretty quickly, but fortunately, I was able to pull myself out of it before passing the point of no return. What I went through is not how anyone should be looking at their relationship with food, or running, or their body. And this is why I’m sharing my story. Just the other day, a male runner who’d heard me talk about this on a podcast sent me a message saying, “I thought I was the only person dealing with this until I heard you talking about it.” So, whether it’s with my audience, or with the athletes I coach, I feel like there’s an opportunity, given my platform, to over-communicate and bring awareness to the problem so we can do something about it.