Athletes and Eating Disorders: Invisible Victories by Whitney Ladd Post

Victorious Altitude

2012-05-17T10:30:53-07:00

A common training strategy for elite endurance athletes is to train at altitude. Since there is less oxygen in the air up there the body has to get used to becoming efficient with less, and when you return to sea level the body is more efficient at utilizing the rich oxygen. One summer in college I joined my boyfriend, who was a member of the Swiss national rowing team, at one such high altitude training camp in St. Moritz, Switzerland. I remember my first run that trip, and feeling like I was wearing lead boots. I wondered what the heck was wrong with me – until I was reminded of the impact of altitude.

The body’s ability to acclimate to new surrounding and new situations from a physiological perspective has always impressed me. I am very aware that I often have to do the same thing psychologically and emotionally when life changes. I haven’t heard this talked about much as people heal from eating disorders but I know for myself it took a while to adjust once recovery had taken hold and my life just got a whole lot better. When recovery had helped me build a life and I found that I wasn’t hating my body, worrying or manipulating food, or trying so hard at everything, I experienced a bit of a backlash. I had a loving community, a nourishing and loving relationship, and all sorts of great new opportunities. But, I also had this feeling like the other shoe was going to drop, I was anxious much of the time as I worried about what it would be like to fall from such a great height. Before I was so busy trying to climb out of wherever I was I never felt like there was far to fall.

So after years and years of disordered living, and several under my belt of learning to live life well, I struggled with something unexpected. I struggled with altitude sickness related to these new heights. It was a process to acclimate to all the beautiful gifts in my life. I struggled to take it in and found myself consumed with fearful thoughts and negative thinking. It turns out I’d been pursuing victory for so long I had very little experience living with it.

It makes sense that this is a natural phase of recovery; learning to adjust to being in the world vs. battling it is no small shift. I don’t know if everyone struggles with it but seeing it as a phase being passed through helped me to be in it with greater acceptance and skill.

I went through several months that felt like a fear fest, a rocky beginning to the altitude adjustment. But I responded by figuring I needed to train myself to deal with the new situation. Daily I addressed fears with new and tested strategies, I reached out to new supports, and I tried never to sit in isolation with any of it – as that usually made everything worse. I got better at living with the fear and anxiety too – trying to take in the old adage that sometimes fear is False Evidence Appearing Real. It was also helpful to have compassion for myself in the process of adjusting and to resist the old habit of berating myself as it would be so easy to say, “what the heck is wrong with you? Things are so great why can’t you just fully enjoy it!?” A trusted friend even gave me the suggestion of putting a hand over my own heart and saying “I’m sorry this is so hard for you.” I found that approach of compassion to be so radically different from my punitive tendencies that it delivered quite an impact.

Everybody’s body reacts to altitude differently. Some people adjust with ease, others feel ill, and some people just need time to get used to it. Adjusting to the hard earned, improved life of recovery is most likely much the same. Some will adjust with ease and rarely look back, and others may need some time. But like everything else in recovery, it is a phase, not a sentence. Judging it or shaming it are old behaviors and will only slow the process of acclimation. Trust in yourself, your tools, your supports, and time to get you through this phase and remember that sometimes this is a natural response to so many hard earned victories.

Questions About Athletes and Eating Disorders

2012-02-06T15:36:40-08:00

As part of Eating Disorder Awareness Week I'm giving a talk later this month at Sheppard Pratt in Maryland about athletes and eating disorders. They asked some great questions by them in preparation for the event and wanted to share them.

Why do you think it is important to address the intersection between sports and disordered eating? What are the benefits to creating awareness and spreading education about this particular topic?

WP: For starters, we live in a culture that is incredibly rewarding of the goal-oriented, driven, take-responsibility, and perfectionistic qualities of athletes. In addition, the media sensationalizes athletic bodies, not just athletic performances. In athletes, the body can become an obsessive focus as well as a tool for athletic success. Many of the traits that make people successful and driven athletes, can also be easily misdirected towards disordered eating and an overly-critical body image. In one study of college female athletes, 88 % felt they were overweight or needed to lose weight. Another challenge is that some athletic cultures perpetuate the myth that weight loss improves performance, and athletes may be reluctant to acknowledge a problem or seek treatment. In short, it can be very easy for athletes to hide a serious and dangerous eating disorder because they often appear, from the outside, to be excelling at their sport and may look incredibly fit and healthy.

My goal is for everyone, athletes in particular, to understand the physical and emotional consequences of eating disorders and disordered eating in the short and long term. Weight loss in athletics can often be presented as the magical elixir, but if it compromises health it will ultimately compromise performance. I want athletes to know that it is a highly treatable disorder with early and proper interventions, and I want to address their reluctance to seek treatment. In my experience an eating disorder never gets better if left untreated, only worse.

Research tells us that eating disorders are biologically-based illnesses but that a variety of other factors can also play a role in how and when the illness is expressed in different individuals. Did being an athlete affect your struggle with the eating disorder? What role did it play in your recovery?

WP: When people ask me if lightweight rowing gave me an eating disorder, I say absolutely not. I loved being on the water, I loved the sense of team, and I loved working hard to win. Yet, I also had an attraction to the grueling process of making weight for the sport, as part of my willingness to put my body through extremes for the sake of weight loss. Lightweight rowing offered me a mechanism to play out my unhealthy relationship with food and my body. My years as a lightweight further entrenched my eating disordered mentality.

Yet, there are many features of athletics that can be applied to recovery if the right goals are set. The sense of team, commitment, step-by-step training toward a goal, and positive self-coaching as well as support and guidance from others can be applied to the treatment of an eating disorder. Part of my message is that some of the same liabilities of competition and training can be redirected toward recovery.

Your blog about eating disorder recovery is called “Invisible Victory” – why do you refer to this victory as invisible?

WP: Great question. For me, all my goals in my sports career involved getting noticed, recognized, and praised. There was always a teammate or a coach or spectator to witness when my hard work resulted in success. The situation was very different with my eating disorder recovery. I had to be my own cheer leader, because so many of my victories were not even perceptible to anyone else. Monitoring and changing my thoughts, behaviors, and reactions were crucial to creating a new relationship with food and my body. I had to learn to both accept the invisible nature of my new quest, and celebrate the victories big and small with or without witnesses.

When you were struggling with an eating disorder, did you ever reach a point where you didn’t think recovery was possible? If so, what helped you push past it and what message would you give to other individuals who may be feeling that way now?

WP: Recovery felt very much the way many of my lofty athletic goals felt. At times I faced feeling totally devastated, discouraged, and depressed, but I never stopped working in the direction of my goal. So of course there were many times when I wasn’t sure I would ever find my way out of my little prison in which I was both warden and prisoner, but I never stopped trying.

How has your definition of health changed throughout your life as you were struggling with an eating disorder and now, as an advocate for recovery?

WP: The biggest tangible change over the years has been that my self-worth and self-image are no longer tied to exercise. Exercise is still very important to me, but now I workout mainly for the health, mood, and social benefits (I love working out with a friend). I believe the best way to advocate for health and recovery is to live it. I continue to place a high priority on physical, spiritual and emotional health. Without that, nothing else works very well.

It’s clear from your bio at Eating for Life Alliance (ELA) that you’ve accomplished a great number and variety of personal and professional goals. What would you say you are most proud of today and why?

WP: I am so happy to be freed up from the narrow vision of the world that defines eating disorders. Instead of all the daily struggles faced when I defined myself by my body, I am now free to channel my energies to so many things. For me, recovery from my eating disorder was a gateway to an easier and more fulfilling life. I have a wonderful marriage and a new family, great friendships, and the opportunity to work professionally on something I am passionate about. Before recovery these things seemed to always belong to other people, not me.

What do you hope is the take-home message for those who attend your presentation on February 26^th? Who could benefit from attending?

WP: My message is one that can benefit anyone who has been affected by an eating disorder themselves or has had a loved one with an eating disorder. It is also important information for any parent, professional, educator, coach or friend who will likely be in a position to help someone someday if they know what to look for and how to respond.

One practical message I plan to get across to athletes and those who work with them is this: although athletes have a unique set of factors that make them more susceptible to eating disorders, they also have impressive assets that can be enlisted in helping them recover. Eating disorders are common in athletes, and I don’t want anyone to be isolated and without the help she or he needs.

I want to offer education and encouragement to everyone who attends and wants to know more about eating disorders as they pertain to exercise and athletics, as well as to anyone out there who is looking for more hope.

Victorious Plan

2011-09-22T09:39:49-07:00

One of the greatest things about sports is that it provides incredible structure. You are contained by the present workout, the training plan, the coach’s constant evaluation of you. You are held in a construct that tells you how to act and what is valued and what you need to do next. If you fail or fall short, effort and hard work are always there to hold your hand and pick you back up. In the world of athletics, trying harder, focusing more, and performing are the pathways to reward. So many of life’s little messes, setbacks and failures can be addressed with an improvement plan. Without realizing it, I found this profoundly comforting and recreated such “plans” even when not in competitive athletics.

For many many years in life this is how I would pick myself up – with a plan. A try-harder plan. There was the weight to be lost or the fashion to improve, the job to get better at, the side project to complete, the social life to beef up, the fun activity to organize. I believed sadness or disappointment could be alleviated by a flutter of activity meant to improve myself and my life.

These “reaction plans” of mine involved two main things. One, it meant a lot of effort and gearing myself up, discipline and follow through. Two, it made the assumption that I was in control – that my effort was the missing ingredient to happiness and success at all times and that just isn’t true. But the more I lived reacting to life’s lows with a plan, the more I reinforced the belief that it was merely a lack of effort on my part that had caused the low.

Now that I live a life that is more grounded, organized and satisfying I still have times where I feel sad or overwhelmed. I still want to come up with a plan to get myself out of it. But I have found that one form of a plan is to trust that what I am feeling will change, that this feeling or state is not a jail cell, but something passing through. I can plan my escape or just be more accepting of my feelings and know that much of the time they are transient. I don’t have to muscle my way to the other side of every normal dip in life.

So sometimes the victorious plan involves action, taking concrete steps, and involves a big effort on my part. But I have learned that despite my years of training in athletics that believes a vigorous, effortful plan is always the answer, that there is a plan B of waiting it out, and that is just as victorious.

Looking Back

2011-09-09T12:13:25-07:00

So this week I launched a website for an organization I've been building for two years. The organization is called The Eating For Life Alliance and is focused on providing educational resources on the treatment and prevention of eating disorders to colleges. The work is in many ways a response to my own experience of having an eating disorder when I was in college. In addition to over 60 pages of information on topics such as the transition to college, athletes and eating disorders, how to help a friend, there is a section written by women in recovery on what it was like to have an eating disorder in college. I wrote one of them and wanted to share it with you here.

What was it like having bulimia in college?

It wasn’t like my eating disorder came totally out of the blue. There had been the high school guidance counselor who pulled me aside and asked if everything was OK with my eating. She perhaps had seen me running around the school’s lengthy perimeter - over and over and over again. Or perhaps she noticed that I never went to lunch - something I deemed indulgent and a waste of time (also then I didn’t have to worry about there not being friends to sit with). But I was clueless at the time and told her earnestly that I was fine. Then there was the summer of standing for many long minutes in the bathroom stall after a meal that felt too big - trying to gear myself up to get rid of it.

But somehow when that first care package arrived my freshman year it seemed like a really good idea to eat the whole thing at once, and since I was so weight conscious it seemed that there was no choice but to do what I had heard other women do - go to the bathroom and get rid of it. It was a terrible experience! I was scared…this was what people called eating disorders. I promptly made an appointment at the counseling office at the school the very next day. A kind woman met with me for the requisite eight sessions. She did not understand eating disorders and looked at me with compassion and confusion. Her counsel did not help. Despite my intense fear of the behavior - I couldn’t seem to stop. I always did it reluctantly, always dreading the whole thing. But there was a lot going on at home - my parents were headed for divorce, my mom was recovering from breast cancer, and I was ill equipped to deal with my feelings. Bulimia became my tormentor and my friend at the same time.

Life in college was a pretty narrow experience for me. I was passionately dedicated to a sport that empowered me and also colluded with my eating disorder, as exercise became a large part of how I managed my binges and my weight. Looking back I gave up opportunities to join clubs, go abroad, involve myself with new activities. People I am still friends with tell me I was hard to get to know, friendly but stand off-ish. I focused on managing my sport, my shame, my secret, my weight, my anxiety, my sadness, and my loneliness. I kept thinking I would stop - but I never could. I thought people wouldn’t like me or trust me if they knew about it, and so I hid my disorder. And when I graduated - despite the million attempts to stop - I took my disorder along with it’s shame, anxiety, and depression.

To the college students who are still struggling:
Bulimia was for me a terrible way to go through life and it lasted for almost two decades. It was not a solution. I was trying so hard to feel OK and to feel pretty in my body, and I never did. I always felt like my tightly wrapped exterior was about to unravel. And it only got worse. The sense of secrecy and shame compounded over time and really altered and took away from my relationships, dreams and ambitions, and daily happiness. And from what I have seen and experienced, it is really hard to get better without outside help. If there are people out there who have done it, I haven’t met them. To a young person struggling in college today, I would say seek help. If you think bulimia is not a big deal - if you think it is something you can do casually and not have it affect your mental, emotional, physical health - you are not correct. Bulimia is not OK and you deserve to be free of it. I would say seek help and don’t stop until you get the right help. Talk to folks at your school, talk to your parents if you can. There are many resources available today, and there is a difference between help and the right help. Keep looking until you find what you need and let others assist you. You are worth it.

By Whitney Post

Victorious Storm

2011-08-27T19:27:53-07:00

I am a worrier. I worry about races and tests, medical procedures, whether my cold will go away, and how the party will go. I worry about things I have to go through as a vulnerable human being. But I have learned over time to reach out to others, because that helps me more than anything else: having people being in it with me.

This comes as no surprise to me as I was such a TEAM person. I LOVED being part of a sports team because so many things seemed possible with the ever changing group of women I called my team. I remember erg tests with women screaming and shouting behind me where I PR’ed (personal recorded). I remember erg tests of the same distance I attempted to do alone and bonked. I remember dragging my tired, sorry butt down to the boathouse because those other women were waiting there, whereas the bed would have won if it were just me.

So as I collect candles and flashlights, extra water and canned goods for this epic hurricane that is headed towards my town of Boston I am surprised that I am NOT worrying. The radio says the National Guard is being called in and we are being urged to create evacuation kits, fill our bathtubs with water, and not leave our homes. You would think I would be worried. But I am not for the simple reason that we are ALL in this together. I have solidarity with neighbors everywhere. And that gives me enormous comfort.

And that is one of the elements of my recovery that has been so profound. I had to build a recovery team for myself of people who are also training hard in their recovery. I have needed to feel that I am not alone, that I am not the only one struggling, succeeding, or worrying. Small and scary things can seem daunting to me when I have to face them alone, but apparently I can face down hurricanes with enough solidarity. I’ll have to wait until Monday to declare this a Victorious Hurricane, but the victory of knowing how powerful a team can be -- is mine now.

Victorious Exercise

2011-08-04T06:35:22-07:00

Eight years ago, during a January cold snap, I packed up a borrowed boat on top of my car and drove across the country to train for the 2000 Olympic games. I had a Gold and a Silver medal from the World Rowing Championships in my pocket, but I had taken a year and a half off from training. I didn’t have the money for it; I was late to begin training. All the competitors I would face had been at the training site for months and even years. The situation seemed unpromising, but I had was the firm belief inside that I could do it. Nonetheless, I was uncertain and uncomfortable every day. I said prayers, I called friends, and I got donations and sponsors to support myself. I functioned on hope and belief. I slept on an air mattress with a box as my bedside table.

In return I got to get out on the water every day and fight to show the world, and more importantly myself, what I was made of. The incredible intensity of the lifestyle was a daily dance of taking care and taking risks. A shy person by nature, I know I learned things that dramatically shaped me as a person. Not a day goes by where I don’t use what I learned as an athlete. Also I often miss the simplicity of that life - of focusing all my power and attention towards a single mission. It was both terrifying and magical.

Though I had to work incredibly hard over the past decade to unravel my complex relationship with exercise, and tendency towards over-exercise, it is still an amazing gift to my life. What I used to call a “warm up” now feels like a complete workout. My relationship to exercise and how tightly it is linked to my identity and self worth has changed dramatically. But it still has so much to offer me when I engage in it. I am grateful that something really positive happens to my brain chemistry when I lock into a steady rhythm for running, for rowing, or for using some contraption at the gym. Now, I just love being there in a “moderate” workout. I love that I get ideas, I get inspired, or simply that I just get sweaty.

And current research findings back up my sentiment that I don’t need a world champion’s exercise regime to feel good. I get mood benefits from even moderate exercise. In fact, moderate exercise is getting increasing attention as an intervention for depression. Intense exercise gives you a mood lift as well, but intense workouts can delay the time until you feel good after the workout. And intense workouts can feel lousy while you are executing them. This feeling lousy can have a cost to the goal of staying with exercise over time. For example, a 2008 study from Brown Medical School, showed that ratings of pleasure taken during a single episode of exercise predicted how well people stayed with their exercise program over time. Challenging exercise intensity can lead people to abandon exercise all together. And while pleasure was never my goal for one of my National Team training workouts, I must admit that now days it takes more energy to make myself do really high intensity ones. So why not jut embrace the word “moderate” and seek the little spring in my step I get from visiting the gym?

I once viewed workouts as my ticket to a victory – a victory that I hoped would lift me out of my unhealthy state of mind. Now I am satisfied to simply feel a little more victorious in my own skin when I work out.

Victorious Rise

2011-07-25T11:35:36-07:00

A few weeks ago I was at Florida’s ESPN Wide World of Sports center, where hundreds of thousands of young athletes play each year. I was giving a talk on, “Body Image and Nutrition” to basketball and softball high school athletes as part of the ESPN RISE Girls Showcase. I co-presented with Lauren Lappin, silver medalist at the last Olympic in softball and empowered woman extraordinaire.

I have never presented on body image to a bright-eyed audience, at least at the start of a talk. It still isn’t cool or ok to struggle with body image - so at first my audience had flat expressions and looked half asleep. No matter; I jumped to the front of the stage and told them how happy I was to be there, how much I love presenting on this topic, and that female athletes are my favorite audience. Once I got the audience broken into smaller groups working to come up with answers to my questions - the room was buzzing.

Lauren and I had for the session over email, but I had only met her an hour before we went on. She impressed me with the powerful points she made; I now want to share some of them with you. One of the big themes was “comparison” - how do you learn to not compare yourself to other women- including your teammates. Lauren spoke about how her muscles separated her from the “ideal model” figure and that her physique was different from her teammates- as is the case with all of us. "Those muscles got me to the Olympics," she declared. Lauren suggested; "Look in the mirror -- those are tools that are going to help you reach your dreams." "We tend to compare ourselves to our teammates, but my body is the tool I use to do my job," said Lappin. Comparing body parts and searching for ways we are less than others won’t do anything to help us strengthen ourselves as athletes or happy and effective people. Research has shown that people who don’t like their own image often focus extra attention to the parts of themselves they don’t like. Rarely do people look at their entire figure, instead narrowing in on a disliked specific part of themselves. Zeroing in on your least favorite part is a no win pastime.

In offering my closing for the talk session, I returned to my focus on ”connection.” I said body image challenges are nothing to figure out on your on your own. If you are struggling with pressure from a coach or parent or inside yourself, get people to help you; talk to people about it, be it friends or professionals. Lauren closed with the concept of “practice.” She suggested we practice positive and constructive thoughts. "As athletes we're constantly having a dialogue with our body -- get low, run faster. " She suggested we use that constant dialogue with ourselves as an opportunity to build confidence. Choose positive and useful things to say to yourself. Be a constructive coach to yourself. Her presentation reminded me to take special notice of what was going on in my own mind, and to make sure I was using my thoughts to train myself to be stronger and more confident. I know all to often I can get negative threads running through my mind. They don’t serve me. So I offer this to you as a reminder to keep you heads full of thoughts that help your self esteem RISE.

Olympic Hope

2011-05-11T08:49:45-07:00

Tell me about struggle, and I will tell that at every moment, of every day, the Olympic torch flickers somewhere. It has been witnessed by millions over the years; it has been held, passed, and celebrated.

The Olympics bring out our human desire for excellence, for reaching one’s potential, and for the willingness to take risks in pursuit of something great. I was an Olympic athlete, but I did not win an Olympic medal. I stood on the sidelines as an alternate at the Olympic games. I cheered others on. I was left to wonder what I could have achieved, if I hadn’t fought with my own body for so many years in a constant struggle with an eating disorder. Something told me that those years of training were just preparation for a different challenge that would come later in life.

I used to chase victory. I chased it as I raced for the finish line of competitions. I chased it for accolades in education. I chased it through the right job, the right body, the right outfit, the right car, and the right relationship - the right you name it. But a true sense of victory never came that way. I have only found what I was looking for by setting my sights on quieter and more personal aspects of my life. When I let myself value what I needed most in my life – recovery - and when I then let myself direct my strength and resources to know recovery, I began to know a fuller victory. I began to feel a triumphant spirit, a powerful alternative to the shame and dismay that was with me when I fought against myself day after day.

I am still in training, but I am no longer on the sidelines. I train to be part of life, to have compassion for myself, and to be fully engaged. The self-respect, the peace, the connections, that have come from focusing on the invisible victories of life, has offered me far greater happiness than chasing the big to-do’s. Victory can be a daily endeavor as struggle is certainly a part of life, but to have the opportunity to struggle within one’s life vs. always struggling with one’s self, is a privilege

There is an Olympic torch out there flickering. It is waiting for athletes across the globe to seek its glory. But there is a torch of victory out there for you. Maybe it is there to warm your dreams, spark your hope, and cheer you on towards recovery. Maybe that is your triumph. And maybe it will take an Olympic effort, an Olympic risk, an Olympic sacrifice, and Olympic support. Maybe you are on the path to a beautiful victory of your own.

Victoriously Uncomfortable

2011-04-04T18:46:59-07:00

Uncomfortable finds me in so many places. Uncomfortable weaves its wiggly ways into so many parts of my day, so many experiences, piggybacking onto so many other feelings and emotions. Uncomfortable used to just feel like the colossal crowd of hate that held parties and concerts in my body. I just wanted out of my own skin. Uncomfortable used to be the one I ran away from with the same desperate rush one would flee from a serial killer. Uncomfortable was the sadness, anger, confusion, etc. I couldn’t deal with on my own.

The gift of my recovery has not made "uncomfortable" go away. On the contrary, it has given me tools to get to know it, to face it, to walk with it. Today I tout my ability to sit with the uncomfortable, to walk with it, drive with it, run with it, sleep with it, as a great asset in life.

There is one thing you can most certainly count on in this journey of recovery…..you will be uncomfortable. If you go swimming you will get wet, if you go skiing you will get cold, and if you leave old customary patterns and habits- no matter how sick of them your are- you will be uncomfortable. The old places are uncomfortable for sure, but they are familiar. So when you take the bold step to reach new lands, be prepared that you may not feel great right away. What do I mean by this? You may feel fearful, vulnerable, raw, beautiful, inspired, big, small, sad, powerful- who knows! The newness even of positive feelings may not feel good right away.

In the old places you may have felt uncomfortable but you knew what you were getting. Starving, binging, purging, working out were all familiar terrain. But when you step out of the tangle of old behaviors you don’t know what you will get and you don’t know how you will feel. This is why it is SO helpful and important to keep close to people who have gone before who can guide you through the new feelings. Because really that is what they are….feelings….that you have numbed or ignored or squished or hated or all the above. There is no way around the discomfort of new terrain, so it is helpful to learn to be nice to yourself in this new place and have people on your team to cheer you on.

Victoriously Vulnerable

2011-02-24T08:28:38-08:00

As a kid I was super shy. If you stuck me on the soccer field, I would run right back to the sidelines like a wind-up toy. I was reserved, quiet, and not very aggressive at all. When I was two years old, Timmy Lindberg took my toys and pinched me for a full afternoon before I quietly leaned over and bit his leg. Apparently, some sort of hardiness was in there; I just kept it way down deep.

When I discovered sports in earnest during college, an aggressive, tough, independent, “I can handle anything” side was unleashed. As a rower, long and grueling training was part of the deal, and one’s ability to tolerate discomfort was highly linked to one’s success in the sport. I trained through pulled hip flexors, strained intercostals, strep, bronchitus, sinus infections and minor surgeries. I rowed when my hands were so blistered and bloody I could hardly hold on to anything. I tried out for my first national team with a broken foot, and only when a high fever hit in 100-degree-plus weather, did I announce to my coach that I needed to sit a practice out. I would limit my calorie intake down to nothing for days, sweat off pounds before a race to ‘make weight’ for lightweight rowing competitions, and then give it my all. I thought all this meant I was tough, hardy, and that not much could bring me down.

I lived this attitude. The sport culture was all about having a strong body. After all, failing to be the strongest, fastest, or toughest meant failure, or at least second place. To be invincible we had to be, well, invincible. And I was good at playing the game.

But when not in athletic mode I was prone to a very different mentality. I could be a total baby, a complete wimp - particularly about bodily ailments. Often when I was sick I felt like the world was ending and I would never feel better. I feared that I would get some horrible complication and never recover. I wanted to find someone to fix me: some medication, some treatment, something to speed things up and reassure me. The remedy of time and rest and patience never felt like enough. I despised not feeling physically strong, which ironically revealed that deep down I did not feel very strong.

Having used my athletic identity and physicality for so many years to try to find security and garner love and attention, I had a hard time when my body didn’t respond the way I wanted. It was a signal that I wasn’t control. Nothing signified visceral vulnerability to me quite like these physical ailments. In my early recovery, this fear may have made me focus on feeling fat or out of shape. As I chipped away at my defensive coping, it was harder to avoid facing my fears. But this was a big fear for me. With physical ailments, the struggle inside was that something was wrong with my body, something could hurt me, and I needed to fix it or protect it or stop it, but usually I didn’t know how. And my first reaction was to pull away from life, to hunker down, lay low, isolate, pull the covers over my head, and worry. But this is another version of the eating disorder just slightly altered. The notion is still that I have to control my body; I have to rule it, and I should withdraw until I do - that is the old formula.

The new formula involves admitting to my vulnerability and being a better friend to it. I don’t have to deny it, push it down, or toughen it up. My job is to accept it, and do something useful with it. When I am sick, when I get this bodily notice that I am vulnerable, I need to stop and remember that vulnerability is not dangerous. I need to remind myself to stop reacting like it is.

I have respect for how hard it is to integrate vulnerability into the athletic mentality. However, I do wish that I had learned earlier that I can be a warrior, and have times being a confused, scared and needy human being. I think I would have been more powerful as an athlete if I didn’t have to use so much energy to try to control natural feelings of vulnerability.

The deal is that I can’t do anything to change the fact that I am human and vulnerable. I spent years of thinking I was being the tough girl and dealing with my fears by trying to control them or hide from them. It was truly fight or flight – and a lot of work. My goal now is to be good at being vulnerable - to embrace vulnerability, and the anxiety that goes with it, as part of me and my life. Vulnerability is as much a part of me as my joy, my focus, and my curiosity - all the other things that I live with on a daily basis. My vulnerability doesn’t need to be a dirty word; it is just part of being human.