February 3, 2016 by Ana To Athlete

The Space Between

“When we ski the trees, the trick is to focus on the spaces between, not the trees themselves. The lines we choose are defined by our fears and our confidences, and when these are out of balance, when our fears outnumber our confidences, we lose the ability to find the spaces between the trees. We lose our rhythm. This goes for life, too.

My wife has anorexia. She’s struggled with this all her life, but recently – to keep the analogy rolling – she smacked into the trees. She’s struggling to find the spaces between. As her partner, I’ve struggled to keep her moving through the forest. At times, I’ve guided her into trees too dense for her to navigate. What appears to me as an open glade of old-growth aspen, to her is a tangled mess of icy deadfall.

But I must keep my partner from becoming lost completely. I’m responsible for her safety, and she for mine. I can point out the spaces, but I can’t expect her to ski them as I would.

Rhythm, when skiing the trees, is as important as finding the spaces between. The two are interlinked; one cannot exist without the other. At speed, it’s easy to decide which way to go, which space to pass by and which to pass through. With each turn is another decision in a rhythm that repeats itself over and over again; turn after turn, flowing from space to space. I struggle mightily to find good lines these days. Skiing much too slowly to find any rhythm, I’m forced to stop short – to hunt for a new space in woods that only seem to grow more dense.

Skiing the trees, there are no guarantees, no timelines: only expectations. It’s not certain; I only expect my partner and I will find our rhythm again, and we’ll flow from space to space as easily as we once did. Momentum is everything. We’ll gain momentum, and though it doesn’t always lead to the spaces between, stopping leaves us no choice but to stare at the trees”.

James Foukes, Backcountry Magazine

December 15, 2015 by Ana To Athlete

Can you laugh about it now?

“Then she pulled at my stitches one by one and looked at my insides clicking her tongue, and said ‘this will all have to come undone’ And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home? Doesn’t that make you shiver: the way things could’ve gone?

And doesn’t it feel peculiar, when everyone wants a little more? And so that I do remember, to never go that far, could you leave me with a scar”

– Missy Higgins, Scar

So this last week I did something very mature, facing up to some things from my past and not burying my head in the sand about them. I was in an accident when I was at university, which basically involved me stepping out right in front of a bus in the middle of the Brisbane CBD…. I don’t actually remember from about 20mins before the accident to the whole two weeks I was in hospital. I had multiple fractures (skull, jaw, ribs, shoulderblade), torn hip labrum and some pretty gnarly road rash from hitting the bitumen. Everything healed, and life moved on….but now that I’m getting older I am finding that I’m having to face up to some of the consequences of that accident, likely confounded by my long-running relationship with Ana during that time which would have affected how well my bones and body healed.

My husband – who doubles as my physio (friends with benefits haha) – has been at me for some time now to get follow up scans done on my neck and left hip just to see how they are looking and whether we need to be concerned in the long run, since I am determined to be doing Ironmans or at least running until I skid full throttle into the grave at some point, hopefully a ripe old age. My neck still bothers me and the hip catches a lot, but neither of them stop me from doing anything right now.

Cutest little bum you ever did see

So I went and visited the sports doctor who managed my foot injury a couple of years back, and he organised the scans; today I went back to discuss the results. We work with him a lot on a professional level as well – I consider him more of a friend than a doctor and I feel like I can talk openly to him about my past. My little mini (my 9 month old son) was with me, charming everyone left right and centre. We were making small talk about who he looks like and somehow got onto talking about genetic traits….and how one side of my family is full of eating disorders and mental health problems. Then we got on to talking about the actual accident, how it happened and the forces involved so that we could discuss the pathology together. I joked “so yeah, I stepped out in front of a bus. And no, before you ask, I wasn’t drunk or suicidal….but I probably hadn’t eaten for a week so I may as well have been!” then laughed it off, because that’s what I do.

And then he asked “can you joke about it now?”.

“What – the bus accident or the anorexia?!”.

“No, the eating disorder”.

I paused. “That’s a very serious question!”, I said again attempting to laugh it off.

He waited for a serious answer.

I thought about it.

“Well, I guess you have to laugh about it, right? Or else you cry about it. It’s one or the other. Why do you ask?”.

He replied that in his experience most people never get to a point where they feel ok talking about it. I still don’t feel comfortable with it, that’s for sure. But I do know that while that part of my life is now safely fairly hidden (since we moved from Brisbane 7 years ago I strategically don’t tell anyone…it’s nice that people here don’t know that part of my life and gives me a sense of freedom from their judgement about my body), it’s also important that there are a few people who I can turn to when I’m struggling. Dr C is one of those people. Two close girlfriends; my coach; and my husband are the others. And I guess when push comes to shove, I don’t really know that laughing about it is a healthy response.

Preparing for my Ironman comeback one year post pregnancy, two years post foot surgery.

There’s nothing funny about anorexia. It destroyed my mind, my body; took away my childhood and leaves me with a very deep pit of anger that bubbles only millimetres away from the surface (it does not take much scratching to delve there). And yet here I am, living an amazing life, at a “healthy” weight, and considered “recovered” (whatever that means).

But the scars remain and I can tell you that the voice of Ana never goes away…even after all this time I could flick a switch and go back there in a heartbeat. I don’t want to, because I have so much more to lose these days – my husband and son deserve so much more from me and I want to be fully present to experience all the happiness they give me on a daily basis. I don’t want to allow Ana to steal my ability to be present in those moments and replace that with anxiety about the next meal, the next opportunity to burn calories, or the number on the scale.

BUT. And there has to be a But. I don’t know what other way to cope and to move forwards than to be able to face each day, give it my best, and be able to vent by joking about Ana to my “inner circle”; precious people who I know go way beyond judging me on my body weight or my scarred past. I still have to talk about the heavy shit (for one of a better description) with my psychologist on a fairly regular basis, which inevitably results in tears, slow progress and home truths…so I guess for me this is a way of processing all that went on and attempting to repackage it in a way that is more palatable. I have other friends from treatment who I’m still in touch with, and more still from around the world who I have connected with since recovering. Many of them never talk about their ED pasts except to fellow sufferers. Some go above and beyond to hide their history from everyone, denying anything. More still are what I would consider “partially recovered”, masquerading behind a healthier BMI but almost as neurotic as they ever were about their food and exercise consumption. A rare few are strong enough to cope with recovery by flipping it on its head and going fully public about it in the hope to help others who are struggling too. I don’t feel like I am bulletproof enough to do that; there still needs to be that barrier of anonymity there for me when going about my daily life not as a “Recovered Anorexic” but just as me, who used to have an ED but doesn’t any more. Especially with my job as a health professional. And still…when I see patient of mine, friends or even strangers walking down the street so obviously going through the hell of an ED, every cell of my body wants to run straight to them, hug them and take away all the pain. But I know I’m not the right person to do it, and I would not be strong enough to resist the pull myself.

So on goes life.

I’m not sure what the correct answer is but for now, “Yes, I Can Laugh About It”. I can also cry about it. Revert back to it for hours, days or weeks at a time. Flirt with the line in the sand between “recovered” and “disordered eating patterns”. And especially, I can be pissed off about it, mainly for the family issues that still exist and trigger me off so easily (case in point: during a 5 day stay with my parents recently I managed to lose an impressive 4kg…and I wasn’t even trying). I can be ashamed of it. I can be in denial about it. I can wish it never happened.

But above all, I have to be stronger than it, and to rise above it, and to ultimately think that it has made me who and what I am today. And for that, I have to be thankful and at peace.

Onwards and Upwards,

K xo

December 17, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

Pregnancy, Dual-Athlete Households and Ironmums

Yesterday marked a new low point in my Pregnancy: throwing up in the middle of the foodcourt of a very busy shopping centre. Yup, that happened. No warning and obviously no time to run to the bathroom. The running commentary in my head was quite comical, from the “Oh God this is actually happening” moment through to “thank God I actually look pregnant now, not just like some super prolific Bulimic…” (LOL). At 7 months, you’d think one would have stopped throwing up, but apparently this little bubba is a strong one on the hormonal front and having a laugh causing mum lots of embarrassment!

Top 6 female finishers at Ironman Western Australia, 2014…plus Wynne

In other news this week, my new hero Beth Gerdes – Professional Ironman athlete and baby-mumma to 6 month old Wynne – whipped around the Busselton Ironman course in a PB time of 9 hours and change, clocking one of the fastest marathons of the day in under 3 hours….all while dad Luke McKenzie (also a Pro Ironman athlete) and Wynne cheered her on. I’m not going to launch into the politics of Feminism, but I will say that as a member of a dual-athlete household where I am actually the better Ironman athlete of the two of us, this made my heart swell.

I get so sick of people assuming when we go away to Ironman races that I must be the “wife” that goes to dutifully cheer on my husband. And let’s not forget that he doesn’t get out of it scott-free either – the heckling from his mates when I beat him down the finish chute of an Ironman is ridiculous. But I’m lucky enough to have a husband who is both manly enough to not let that phase him, and who is also super proud of my athletic achievements and happy to defend me – like he says, if I’m in front of him then it means I’m having a great day and that makes him happy (he’s beaten me a few times too, but on the current score card I win…..and the last one I beat him on, I had a broken foot for the marathon, so he’s not living that down for a while….!).

Anyway back to Beth and her superhuman effort. I’m not advocating that the mere mortals among us who balance a day job with training loads shoot for the goal of an Ironman PB 6 months post-partum, but this is her career and it’s her “normal”, and I am hugely proud that her partner Luke is so publicly supportive of her getting her career back on track after Wynne’s arrival. They’re not the only example in the Ironman or distance running world either – thank goodness over the last 5 years we are finally starting to see a host of female professional athletes supported by their partners returning to full time sport, with happy healthy little bubbas to cheer them on. I have been a one-woman study nerd in following their blogs through pregnancy and beyond, and have used a lot of their guidance in deciding how much exercise I am happy safely doing throughout my pregnancy, and also in setting a realistic race goal post-partum for myself (which includes an Ironman one year post-baby arrival, not 6 months – I have a business to run and as it’s my first child, and Ironman is a great love but not my source of income, I want to prioritise enjoying my time with the baby and not to feel rushed with the training). If you are interested in more from these amazing ladies, my favourites include of course Beth’s blog (California Training), and the blogs of Clara Peterson, Lauren Fleshman, and Steph Rothstein (the latter two come complete with photos of what REALLY happens to your body after baby….fascinating stuff!).

As for my plans on returning to racing after the baby arrives, I’m finding that once again, reactions of those around me tend to reflect their own insecurities about things. My closest friends and family think it’s great and are super supportive; others are surprised and like to add a snide remark about “focusing on the baby” or “oh well, just see how you go with that” – with an added glint in their eye like they’re really trying to say ‘good luck finding the time/getting your body back to that level/you’re about to lose your whole identity because you’re becoming a “Mum”…..Of course my life is going to change, and I’m so excited about the next chapter with a new person front and centre and the added challenges that come with that. But I also want to set an example for my son or daughter that I am still an amazing, strong, independent woman and an athlete, as well as being a great Mum. Not to mention the travel experiences and awesome family atmosphere at triathlons in this country that our new addition will get to be a part of – seriously unreal!

The stunning Botanical Gardens in Queenstown, NZ.

On a deeper (ED) level, having a big Ironman race looming one year post-partum is also a protective thing for me. It’s long enough that I won’t feel rushed at all with preparation, but not too long in that it might interfere with when we try to fall pregnant with a sibling for this little one. But the biggest factor is it helps me to stay on track with eating and training once the baby is out, which is the “danger zone” of pregnancy for those of us who have had an ED from a relapse perspective. Even though I have maintained a healthy weight for 5 or so years now, I have still found the pregnancy body changes quite confronting, and have fears about the post-partum period. It’s hard to ignore the statistics on relapse rates. But I do know me, and I know that I have beaten the stats to recover after a decade of Ana; I also know how to pull my head out of a relapse phase in the earlier stages and in my case, it’s by focusing on running or triathlon (and in this case, producing breastmilk too) – which means being healthy, not skinny.

When I have a big race goal, I am focussed on being 100% healthy and strong – no nutrition short-cuts, and the focus is off weight and onto performance, which has in the past worked perfectly for me because the better you eat, the better you perform and the happier you are. I fear that if I don’t plan any big races, the focus will too easily slip back to losing all the baby weight or worse, the number on the scale….and it’s a slippery slope from there. On the flipside, I also feel as though if 100% of my focus is on the baby, then I will fall into the trap of having to be the ‘perfect’ Mum, and that’s a dangerous game to play as well – from a postnatal depression point of view.

The weekly baking for work – well fed Physios are happy Physios!

As always, balance is key….. with a side of preparation, and communication: these are things that I have spent many, many hours discussing with my psychologist, husband and to a lesser extent, dietician, in the hope that I can be as prepared as possible and to minimise the overwhelmed and isolated feelings that can come with motherhood. With less than 12 weeks of baby-growing to go, I’m feeling very ready for this next exciting stage of our lives!

Happy Training xo

November 13, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

Pregnancy and Eating Disorders: Part 2

Growing a human being from scratch is a unique experience. It becomes even more unique for those of us who have been through an eating disorder. No matter what stage of illness or recovery you are in, there are individual nutritional, physiological, and psychological challenges that you will experience that all the well-meaning ‘practical’ pregnancy books and blogs in the world will not be able to help you with, or that other pregnant women could ever understand.

Currently I’m 6 months into my pregnancy and have been living these mini-battles and celebrations like a rollercoaster ride that still has 4 months to go (because yes, pregnancy is actually 10 months or 40 weeks, not 9 months!) . As the weeks go on and my body changes, the challenges get bigger but so too do the rewards – feeling your little person doing kung-foo fighting in your belly is one of the coolest feelings on the planet, and something I’ve come to focus on when everything else is becoming overwhelming.

I am hoping that like all things in life, it will get easier with time and experience – I want to have 3 children in the long-term scheme of things so I have to find a way to cope with everything during pregnancy in order to be OK with going back into the battle field! Easily the hardest part from an ED perspective has been the nausea, vomiting and constant hunger, which I’ve discussed in previous posts. But wait – there’s more – oh so many more things that may blindside you along the way on this journey of life creation….

Keep calm and stress less…hiking in Milford Sound, NZ

Getting “weighed in” at the doctor’s office

Everyone is different with their recovery but I know a lot of you do not know your weight once you start down the recovery journey, and I am the same. I have had to find out maybe 5 times over the years I’ve been in recovery (they weigh you in before and after an Ironman to check for dehydration post-race, and also before surgery for the anaesthetist ie before my foot surgery). It doesn’t get less traumatic with time and distance from Ana. I just think it’s one of those things that despite your newfound health, identity and logical reasoning, it just tips you over the edge every time. The good news is that most other things get exponentially easier with time – like eating out and getting dressed in the mornings, but in my experience that number on the scale seems to be like a ticking time bomb.

Which brings us to the Obstetricians office where I get weighed and my blood pressure checked each and every time I see her. I even get competitive about the blood pressure reading – because I know how low mine is when I’m “race-fit” and I love that sense of numbers reflecting my health. See – it’s an issue! So I had to do the hard strategy that you learn soon enough into your recovery – to ask not to know the weight as you take that monumental step onto the scales. Which feels ridiculous when you are a grown woman, and a health professional at that, and look to be a healthy weight. You instantly feel the judgement of the weigher cloud the room (imagined or otherwise) and then usually end up blurting out something about having an eating disorder in the past and then by that point you just want to shrink into the palm of your own hand and disappear.

But here’s the thing. As horrible as that moment seems to you, I guarantee you the doctor or nurse weighing you is not judging you like you think they are. They, of all people, understand eating disorders and even if they don’t, this moment is just one of thousands during their very busy day and they won’t think twice about it after you leave the room. And they will never turn around and tell you the weight despite your request; they are more professional than that.

You, on the other hand, need protection. So it’s a matter of having that conversation to not know the weight, or finding out and then winding up in a spiral of destruction for the next few days/weeks/months……Five minutes of awkwardness vs a month of self-criticism? I’ll take the five minutes, thanks. And THAT conversation does get a little easier, even if the weight thing never does.

Knowing how Much Weight to Gain….and not freaking out about it.

Here’s the thing. This becomes a two-pronged issue as soon as you get pregnant: The things you can control, and the things you can’t. A lot of us have come from a lifetime of rigid eating and exercise patterns, even through to recovery, and control is a big issue for us – indeed often the initial cause for triggering an eating disorder.

So firstly, the part you can control during pregnancy is what you eat, how you exercise, and your stress levels. None of these things will affect the actual growth of your baby much – babies develop even in horrific environments at times and most come out around the same weight and health status – however these factors do greatly affect you, and how you feel during pregnancy. Your health and happiness, shall we say. So work with your dietician or read up on optimal pregnancy nutrition and where you can, try to eat well and adequately so that you as well as your baby can thrive and hopefully enjoy the experience.

The part that you cannot control is how your body grows. Where you carry your belly (high/low/front/spread etc), how big your boobs get, how much morning sickness you get, how much weight you gain, and where you gain it. If you are eating well, exercising sensibly and keeping stress under control, the rest is up to your body. You will likely gain between 9-15kg and it won’t necessarily be in a nice steady increment – sometimes the baby (and you) will grow a lot in a month, other times not so much. This has been a challenge for me, sometimes it feels like I’m watching an alien take over my body. But it has helped extraordinarily knowing that hey, I am doing everything that is within my control to be healthy, so the rest is up to Mother Nature. It’s important to note also that very little of that total amount is fat gain – most of it is baby, water weight, placenta, breast tissue and the like. I have found it helpful to look up the average breakdown of weight gain with respect to these things to keep the feelings of “fatness” in perspective!

And a final word….don’t buy into all the online bullshit popping up with “All Belly Pregnancies” and the like which seem to promote gaining absolutely the minimal weight and getting back to pre-pregnancy weight within 2.5 seconds of giving birth. It’s unrealistic and a ticking time bomb for eating disorder sufferers….it’s best to just not go there!

Coping with comments from the world at large and worse….people touching you

So apparently once you fall pregnant, everyone in the world becomes an expert in pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding. They want you to know how knowledgeable they are, which they express by shoving it down your throat with a good dose of judgement on the size of your bump (and sometimes boobs and butt…) and possibly a feel of your belly. Yup, not joking. I will preface this with the fact that I have always hated people touching my stomach, even my husband doesn’t go there when I’m lean and fit and sporting a washboard down there. So to say that I feel self-conscious about the ever-growing beach ball in my mid-section, and people launching their hands at it when you least expect it is an understatement! And as for the birthing and breastfeeding horror stories, well everyone seems to have gone through World War III giving birth to their brood, wearing their drama like a badge of honour. Makes you wonder how humans did it for all those centuries without the intervention of medical specialists and fancy hospitals, right? Right….

We are just animals after all, and we must remember that pregnancy and childbirth are one of the most normal, natural things that females can go through. The baby knows what it’s doing; the body knows what it’s doing…..you and your overactive, impressionable brain are just along for the ride. And you can make that ride calm and magical, embracing what nature does best, or you can listen to the horror stories and spend 10 months stressing about what will or probably won’t go wrong during childbirth. The way I see it is that we are blessed to have the fancy hospitals and specialists available on the small chance that something does go wrong. But I’ll be happy to go through the experience knowing that my body knows what it’s doing, even if it’s new to my mind….and that it’s a great day if I don’t have to see my Obstetrician during the birth because it means that all is well (midwives, on the other hand – the more the merrier!).

As for the comments on size…the only consensus I have on this is that 100% of the time, the people telling me “gee you’re huge!” or my personal favourite “wow you’re really looking pregnant now” are not….well….pictures of health. They are the ones who are a little on the tubby side and clearly insecure about their own weight. My friends who I train with or who are healthy weight tell me how awesome I’m looking. It all comes down to the common denominator once pointed out to me by a very smart psychologist: people talk about themselves. So when someone is bitching about so-and-so’s choices in life or commenting on your weight, just smile and think to yourself “wow you must have an insecurity about that within yourself”. Think about it. It can be a very informative experience! And maybe next time you catch yourself about to say something judgemental about another….stop and think – is this my issue or theirs?

Much more to come on the intricacies of growing a baby within one’s post-ED body, but for now this baby-mumma needs to get to work.

Happy training,
K xo

October 16, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

Sesamoid Update – 1 year on

“At some point you need to stop making a comeback and start running towards who you are meant to be next” – Lauren Fleshman #womanup

Hoorah for beating the odds – once again!

Sesamoid fractures have a pretty serious reputation for not going well. There is little evidence-based research available for treating practitioners on best standard of care, and even when that has managed to be achieved, they tend to be slow to heal and long to recover from.

Being a Physiotherapist and knowing all of this information, I was shaking in my boots a little at what I was staring down the barrel of just over a year ago now. Compound that fear with the knowledge of what I had done to my foot (doing an Ironman on a stress fracture is not something I will ever do again…), along with my history of poor-ish bone density thanks to a decade of Anorexia, and I was pretty much crawling with my tail between my knees into that surgeon’s office and pleading with him to save my life. Ok, dramatic…but running IS my life, my first love, my sanity and makes my soul happy. So NOT running again was simply not an option.

I am happy to say that even with the odds seriously stacked against you, with a great medical team and some serious dedication to a long and conservative rehabilitation process one can come out the other side flying. Once I got to the point where surgery was the only option left – 8 months of conservative treatment already tried and failed – I had to make a choice. I had to put my big-girl panties on and suck up the situation; there was zero time for feeling sorry for myself and about 24 hours a day to dedicate to doing an awesome job of this rehab process. As discussed in previous posts this included everything from sleep to nutrition to Physio – and most importantly, a great medical team: a brilliant sports physician who understands my passion for running as well as my medical history; the best foot and ankle surgeon in Australia; and a sexy Physiotherapist (OK that was my husband so I may be biased….but it probably helped the treatment come along….!!).

Which brings me to the now. My surgeon was clear and stern with me from the start that it would be a 9-month rehab process before running would even begin, and 12 months before my foot would be adapted to what we had done to it: bone grafting the sesamoid plus breaking, elevating and plating the 1st metatarsal (dorsiflexion osteotomy) to take load off the sesamoid underneath it. 8 weeks in plaster non-weight-bearing was followed by another 8 weeks partial weight-bearing in a boot; then a very gradual increase in walking and loading the area. When I was in plaster I was doing a lot of Pilates, strength work and all-importantly, resting and eating well. My arms got pretty buff at this point – crutches plus strength work= guns!! As soon as I was out of plaster I was into the pool. Initially not allowed to deep water run, but I was allowed to swim if I used a pull-bouy and didn’t push off the wall with my right foot. This made me feel about 100% more human just being back in the sun and in the water again, even if it was limited. Towards the end of that 8 weeks in the boot, I was able to start deep water running and freestlye swimming (kicking). Then came the fun part.

The “real” rehab began once I was walking more and out of the boot. My right calf muscle was over 3cm smaller than my left at this point…I had a lot of work to do. Not to mention adapting to my new biomechanics – the first time I stood on my right foot, I felt like I had a marble under my 2nd metatarsal! Now a lot more of my weight would go through that bone rather than the 1st metatarsal/sesamoid complex, and so I had to go slow to allow the bone to adapt – it’s common at this stage to get stress fractures in the 2nd metatarsal if rehab is too aggressive, due to the increased load. I was allowed to start cycling (using carbon-soled bike shoes so the toe doesn’t bend) at this stage.

Due to my job being so physical – Physios are pretty much on their feet for 8+ hours a day – it would be another month or two before I could introduce any extra walking outside of work, which was frustrating. This was (mentally) probably the hardest part – not being ‘disabled’ any more, but feeling like you’re not actually working towards running either. My patience paid off and once I was able to walk for exercise, things moved quickly – at 7 months post-op, I was walking 30mins every other day with minimal swelling and less than 2/10 pain (ie. Acceptable pain levels given the surgery I had)….which meant I was allowed to jump on an Alter G treadmill and start running, 2 months ahead of schedule!

My surgeon was very strict with the Alter G protocol to follow. I started with 50% body weight for 20mins at just 10km/hr. This felt easy as my fitness was pretty good by now from the swim/bike/deep water running routine; that was a key part of this stage going so well. Over the next month I built the AlterG sessions up to 40 mins at 70% body weight including intervals, allowing me to build some speed and rhythm in. I had the luxury of having my husband and Physio accompany me and give me feedback on biomechanics and technique – it was like getting used to running on someone else’s foot! It felt very strange. I will be forever grateful to my sports physician for making access to an Alter G so available to me; not everyone has the luxury or the joy of this.

At 8 months I was given the green light to start my road running return program, which was also very conservative…it started with 30 minutes walking with 8 x 1 minute run throughout. But I was the happiest person on the planet! I kept up the Alter G sessions for a few more weeks just for my sanity more than anything else – it was still a novelty and better than drugs being able to push myself again (from a cardiovascular perspective), plus the fitness boost it gave me was invaluable and transferred beautifully onto road running.

I was slowly building week by week and up to running 5-10km, 3-4 times a week when we got pregnant this time around….and so I have maintained that level of running over the last 5 months, and will continue to for as long as I can into the pregnancy (I’m now 5 months along and 4kg up). Ironically, the extra relaxin hormone boost from the pregnancy has allowed me to get my full flexibility back in the foot post-op and so running feels better than ever! This could have taken a year or more to achieve without relaxin. I can honestly say now that I don’t even think about my foot anymore – it feels “normal”, strong and functional.

Of course, I am missing racing immensely – between the surgery and pregnancy, it’s been almost 2 years since I’ve raced an Ironman and I cannot wait to get back to it. I am hoping to do an Ironman about 10-12 months after the baby arrives; it would be nice to go back to Busselton where it all went down in the first place and get some unfinished business out of the way!

What I have learned about Sesamoid Stress/Fractures:

– Get a health care team on board that KNOWS WHAT THEY’RE DOING. Search for someone who has experience with treating sesamoids; if your GP/Sports Doc/Physio/Podiatrist does not, then call around until you find a team that does. Don’t be afraid to ask upfront.
– Use an MRI for diagnosis and follow-up progress scans. XRays are not sensitive enough and bone scans are not specific enough. The cost is worth it to know what you are dealing with.
– You need to be aggressive – from day dot. These are typically not super painful injures (well nowhere near a femur or sacral stress fracture – of which I’ve had both – hence being able to finish an Ironman on it without realising), and so they can be deceiving. But you need to take them very seriously, as hard as this can be early on,
– From the moment of diagnosis you should be in a boot; either partial-weight bearing or full weight-bearing if pain allows – needs to be <2/10 pain at all times.
– Use contrast bathing or ice/heat protocols – 20mins of each, 1-3 times a day, to flush swelling and increase blood nutrients to the area.
– Give it TIME. Prepare to be in the boot for 8-16 weeks. Yikes! I know….but trust me, this option is much better than having to go through surgery. Sesamoids have poor blood flow and don’t heal well, but if you treat them like gold from the start you will give it your best shot at healing conservatively.
– Statistically, following the above protocol, 50% of sesamoids will heal and 50% will not (at 12-16 weeks). It depends where the break is, what the blood flow is like, and how well you rest it during this time.
– If you are a serious athlete, love your sport, or have a job that requires you to be on your feet, think about getting a referral to a very experienced foot surgeon early in the process. They typically take a couple of months to get into, and it doesn’t mean that you will have to have surgery – but if it’s a slow healing fracture, they will give you an all-important educated opinion on your time frames, options and prognosis. You can always cancel the appointment if you’re going well, but it’s hard to get an urgent appointment if and when you do need it so plan ahead!
– If you do need to go ahead with surgery, ask the surgeon how many sesamoid stress fractures they have treated and how they have gone. You want the most experienced surgeon with good long-term outcomes ie. Return to full sport pain-free.
– Avoid removing the bone at all costs. Unless it is completely shattered, a good surgeon should be able to either bone graft, pin or shave off part of the bone to salvage it. A foot without one or both sesamoids is, biomechanically-speaking, a disaster zone for arthritis and injuries and is not very conducive with a future running career!
– Further, if you do need the surgery, plan it well and be prepared for a long haul. Be ready mentally and physically to put in the hard yards from a rehab perspective (exercises, pain and swelling management, and lots of rest…), but even more so be ready to be patient from a psychological perspective. There is no point going through major surgery only to rush it on the other side.
– Be rest assured that with a good surgeon, and an even better rehab protocol (think slow-and-steady), you CAN and WILL return to your old athletic self. It’s possible you may even come back stronger after all the time spent with rehab and core strength work, and in my case, biomechanically improved because he fixed the 1st metatarsal angle at the same time, decreasing my chances of getting the injury again.

Currently sesamoid injuries are highly misunderstood by the medical profession and usually by athletes as well, but over the next decade I believe there will be huge improvements in understanding and treatment from medical professionals. In the meantime, those of us who have walked this path beforehand can hopefully shed some light, advice and much-needed hope that there is indeed light at the end of the tunnel!

Happy Training

K xoxo

September 3, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

FUNCTION OVER FORM. ALWAYS.

You never quite realise how much you take your mental cues from the physical body – that is, until you try to recover from an eating disorder. Or get pregnant. That glimpse of flat abs, outline of a six-pack, the toned and lean legs, tanned and glowing skin from hours in the sunshine; these things you take for granted at the time, but are all a daily reminder that you are fit, healthy and an athlete. Recovered.

Being so recovered, I thought of myself as being “above” all of that. Above needing physical clues – indeed, I didn’t even realise how much I relied on them until they went away. You do all this work on the mind during recovery, establishing yourself as a whole person being so much more meaningful than a weight on the scales or a dress size. But what I didn’t realise is that in my successful quest for recovery, I had replaced many of the anorexic cues with athlete cues – arguably, much more healthy for me, but nonetheless a crutch of sorts for self-esteem and self-worth.

This was a deliberate strategy to a large extent on the behalf of both my psychologist and my dietician: as being particularly resistant to treatment after 10+ years of anorexia, it was eventually discovered that I work best when we replace the focus of weight with the focus of athletic performance. Function over form. As I’ve discussed in previous posts, a key component to the success of this strategy was in allowing me to continue with my athletic and University endeavours during this treatment process. My incentive was as simple as this: If I don’t fuel my body correctly, I cannot perform athletically to my potential nor academically. And for me, my self-esteem and self-worth became more hinged over time on my identity as an athlete and a smart, successful woman. I fuelled my body and mind and discovered, in doing so, that my potential was far greater than I had ever dreamed of. I found my niche in Ironman and my passion in physiotherapy and succeeded in ~~recovery~~ life. Together we created visions of where I wanted to be – career-wise and athletically – and honed in on what I required of my body and mind in order to achieve these goals. Ana did not fit in with those dreams. Fuelling my body for hard training sessions, recovering well for my mind to work, and achieving some sort of balance in the way of sleep and relaxation were all imperative to the puzzle working.

I realise this strategy may not work and indeed may not be necessary for some ED sufferers. It worked for me primarily because physiologically I was, while underweight, stable enough to be allowed to keep exercising, albeit at a reduced load to my previous program. I was also at a key age: old enough to be independent and choosing to be in recovery; but also still studying at University and therefore able to easily manipulate where I wished my career pathway to go from here. You could call it “lucky”; I prefer to think it was my time – I had been in several treatment programs at younger ages and none had worked. So successful was the strategy that even now, when I’m having particularly challenging Ana thoughts that last more than a few days, I am able to trace it back to either work or training not going well for me. Focus has gone away from the things I’m most passionate about and my go-to backup is Ana. It happens subconsciously, only now I am so much better at recognising it and addressing it. Function over form. Recalibrate your life, sort it out….there we go.

The reason all of this is on my mind is that with the last 8 weeks of hell (being pregnant with the worse morning sickness ever) – there has been little training, time in the sun, intake of nutritious food, all-important sleep; even work has gone largely out the window (it’s difficult to treat patients when spontaneously vomiting). You’re growing a baby – possibly the ultimate function! – but you are so sick that it’s hard to comprehend this, and it’s also such a new identity: baby-grower. Person-manufacturer. Mum. So, day by day the Ana thoughts creep back and to make matters worse, all those lovely physical cues you didn’t even know you loved so much start slipping away – the stomach and boobs rounded, the skin grey and pale, dark circles under the eyes, muscle tone going….

But alas the solution lies in the past. Let’s get the focus back to my newest function: growing an awesome human. And yes, let’s remember that the morning sickness does not last forever. It is not Ana returning, just a transient loss of all the things that make me, me. Now that I am starting to get back outdoors, get into work, swimming and running, baking, and eating wonderful food again, sure enough the happiness grows too day by day. It might take me a while to get used to this new addition to my identity (“baby-grower”), but in time, it will come. It took a long time to see myself as an athlete, I can’t expect to click my fingers and have this happen overnight.

Chin up, stay strong, and remember that those thoughts aren’t you…..you, my friend, are far more beautiful than that.

K xoxoxo

July 30, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

Pregnancy and Eating Disorders

How do you rattle a Type-A control freak with a history of Anorexia and a love of exercise? Shower her with morning sickness and extreme fatigue, and watch her world unravel….

Challenging would be an understatement for the last couple of months of my life. My previously well-controlled little cocoon that I know as my life, with routine, structure, and an all-important sense of controlling what is happening to my body, has been dismantled for the best possible reason. But the fact that there is a little person growing inside me only manages to give me glimpses of fleeting happiness amidst the 24-7 nausea, vomiting, and extreme fatigue. I know that this will improve once the sickness eases, and I cannot wait to feel as though I’m floating on clouds with happiness about our little human growing day by day in my belly (and, well, just to be able to eat something – anything – without vomiting would be great too!).

Coffee won’t be happening any time soon!

Throughout the challenge of the last couple of months it has taken all of my strength to maintain some semblance of a healthy lifestyle and body in which to house my little person. This surprised me. I am well into recovery and haven’t had a relapse for quite some time. And aside from anything else, my Psychologist has always been adamant that the best cure for an eating disorder is to get pregnant. I did question him about this one time, to which he elaborated that we of the selfless kind tend to be able to eat for someone else but rarely for ourselves. And also that suddenly we have no control over what our body is doing and so there tends to be some relief in the fact that there’s not a lot we can actually do about that for once. Then I questioned him further about after the baby comes out – when relapse rates hit a spike – and well turns out that’s another story, but we won’t go into that right now…. I do know that it took me a good 5 years after recovery to truly believe that I was ready to start a family. Of course, the fear of the weight and body changes scared me. But it was actually a much deeper fear that stopped me from wanting children: I was petrified that if I had a daughter or son, they would have Anorexia one day too. And that was something my heart just couldn’t cope with. It took a very long time of sorting through that with my psychologist before I felt more confident that I could do everything in my power to prevent that from happening: the genes I pass on I can’t change, but the environment of the child I most certainly can. And will.

I guess the hardest part for me currently is that I am acutely aware of trying to maintain the healthiest possible food intake and exercise program, and keep stress levels low, laugh a lot – all the things a little human needs to grow happily. But when every smell – from perfume to food to drinks – bothers you and every meal and snack is a massive psychological and physical event to get through, well it’s like being thrown back into the recovery ward. To make matters worse, despite my best efforts to eat enough I am losing weight, and this plays on my mind as well. I desperately want to be healthy, and yet there’s this voice that is happy about not getting “too fat, too soon”. I know I will put the weight back on and then some, and I know that losing weight in the first trimester is common when you have severe morning sickness, and I also know that the baby is happy as Larry inside despite how I’m feeling out here in the Real World. But it still bothers and confuses me and I really didn’t expect to have so many mixed emotions around this magical event.

My best management strategies have involved getting plenty of sleep, because everything seems so much more distressing when you are tired. And incidentally, so is Morning sickness (aka 24/7 sickness). I have also found it helpful to try to do some form of exercise every day. This has been a big one for me….my goal after my foot surgery was always to be able to comfortably run 5-8km when I finally got pregnant. Catch 22: my fitness is at that level, and so is my foot, but it’s managing the nausea and tiredness that’s been the hard part. Being flexible is not easy for me, but I’ve had to learn to pick my battles and get outside for a little run/walk when I feel the least nauseous. It’s good for the baby and it’s good for my head (much better than sitting on the couch moping about how I feel). I can’t swim or bike right now, because of the body positions making me more likely to be sick, so gym work and running it is. And I have to be OK with that. I can’t control everything. And that is extremely hard to say as an Ironman athlete and former Anorexic.

My heart goes out to anyone with a history of Bulimia, I can only begin to imagine how difficult the initial stages of pregnancy must be with the challenges of extreme hunger, accompanied by frequent vomiting. I have only ever been a restrictive anorexic and I am certainly finding it a monumental challenge. Not being able to keep up my normal training routine is hard enough – I love my early morning sunrises over the pool, my bike sessions with our squad or my husband, our local Roadrunners every Saturday. I miss the physical but also the mental aspects of that. And racing….I really miss racing too.

Tragedy….I haven’t even been able to handle the smell of baking!

I follow a few Ironman athletes on social media who have recently become new Mums. Two of them “accidentally” did an Ironman or two while pregnant, without realising. I regularly think of this while I’m battling through my 5km run at a very slow pace, fighting waves of nausea, and feel like I just completed an Ironman marathon – How did they not know??!!! I am baffled. But you have to laugh and realise that in the end, every body, and mind, is so different.

For now, I am focusing on daily survival as best I can. “Lucky” for me, I have had experience with battling food and weight and so I have an army of strategies to help me through this tough patch. I am looking forward to the magic as well as the challenges to come. I’ve had a lot of time to think about coping with a changing, growing belly; how to be healthy afterwards (ie not relapse); and all the amazing things that come with this process. But as I’ve just discovered, I’m sure nothing will be as it seems on the surface – so bring on the next challenge….it’s going to be an exciting 9 months and beyond.

K xoxo

April 3, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

And Isn’t it Ironic: Anorexia and Ultraendurance Events

Once upon a time while in the middle of a large training block for an upcoming Ironman triathlon, I walked in on a conversation between my husband and our coach. They were having a competition about who had managed to get through their 5 hour ride on the least amount of nutrition – ie, they were competing about who was the better fat-burner, which is a huge factor for success in ultraendurance events like Ironman. Coach thought he was going to be awesome, because he’d had an eating disorder for about a year while running competitively at college (he is now recovered); my husband, on the other hand, had been specifically working on developing his fat-burning engine over the last few months – not an uncommon thing to do amongst Ironman athletes. Controversial? Absolutely. Effective? Most of the time. If you can get away with 20+ hours a week of training on not enough nutrition. Most athletes eventually crash and burn – through either injury or illness – prompting sports dieticians to admit that while these behaviours in high-level athletes can be effective at creating adaptations to fat-burning, they are also highly risky and are to be used sparingly and under the guidance of a qualified coach or dietician.

Husband: I just got through a 5 hour ride with 3 bottles of Gatorade, a banana and 2 Gu’s….beat that….

Coach: (laughs) well I got 3 hours in on nothing but water, then I hit the wall so bad – we had to stop and buy Coke and Mars bars to finish it off! I feel so wiped out now I can’t get off the couch haha.

Me: You two are such amateurs. I was doing the same ride, I wasn’t aware we were having a competition – I had 3 Gu’s for the whole ride and I wasn’t actually trying….and I feel fine now….seriously, you two should stick to short-course triathlon….

Moral of the story? If there has to be an upside to Anorexia, it has to be the amped-up development of the best fat-burning system on the planet. I mean, seriously – my body is out of control with this. It’s actually unfair to my competitors. So often during 3 hour long runs or 5 hour bike rides, I see my husband struggling with fatigue and hitting the wall and yet my engine just keeps on churning it out. I’ve lost count of how many times we have discussed a physical feat that should not be possible, according to the textbooks – and yet I’ve just done it. Case in point: at Busselton Ironman in 2012, I very stupidly accidentally consumed a drink with gluten in it right before the start. As a coeliac, that = disaster. I got about 2 hours in then started vomiting for the next few hours on and off, then came the stomach cramps and gastro. I got nothing but water and a bit of watermelon down during the race, and yet I still managed to finish. Two hours before my husband. In 35 degree heat. It should not be physically possible to exercise in those conditions on that little nutrition for 11+ hours, and yet – there I was, I’d done it. What an engine.

Marino Vanhoenacker passing by an aid station at Melbourne Ironman 2014

There isn’t much formal evidence of this phenomenon, but there is a hell of a lot of anecdotal evidence around. A quick look around at the top Ironman, marathon and ultramarathon professional athletes in the world reveals a huge proportion of previously eating-disorder-afflicted athletes. Some still have obvious ED’s. Even more would currently have well-hidden disordered eating patterns. And I’m not just talking about females, either. There are a pair of professional brothers who compete in Ironman and one of them has such a severe eating disorder that despite over 1 million dollars being laid on the line by their sponsor for the two of them to go head to head at Hawaii Ironman a few years back, the ill brother didn’t even make it to the starting line because his ED was so out of control that he was admitted as an inpatient, missing the race altogether.

Then there’s arguably the best female ultramarathoner we have seen to date, Pam Reed, who won Badwater outright two years in a row, beating all the men in the field:

“…And there was also an ironic twist to all of this. Anorexia had ruled my life for 15 years and had done a lot of damage in the process. One of its effects had been to condition my body to an amazing degree for ultrarunning. Something that had hurt me at one time in my life would now help me in another”
– from “The Extra Mile”, Pam Reed.

Need more evidence? Let’s look at the maths, and let’s stick to Ironman since that’s my thing. A typical 65kg athlete who completes the Ironman (3.8km swim/180km bike/42.2km run) in 12 hours will burn around 42000 kj doing so. That’s on top of the roughly 8000kj that same athlete needs just to stay alive that day – breathing, thinking, blinking etc. Think about that for a second: do you think it’s even possible to physically eat that much in a day? Let alone on a day you are exercising – hard – for 12 hours of it, shunting blood away from your digestive system? Well let me tell you, even if you have “Ironguts” like my husband (who is famous at our local pool for chowing down on a large flat white and bacon and egg muffin while getting into the pool to start his 4km swim set….), you cannot ingest that much energy. Not even close. If you’re lucky, you’ll have about 90 minutes worth of carbohydrate stored in your primed muscles, but after that, it’s predominantly the fat system that you’ll rely on. Most of the energy that you consume after that will be split between helping to prolong that fat-burning system, and importantly, to keep your brain happy. Recent research shows that while dieticians used to think we used the fuel from Gu’s and Gatorade to keep our muscles happy, it’s actually more to trick our brain into thinking we are still high on sugar and so it’s safe to continue exercising. Pretty cool stuff.

Unfortunately, Ana doesn’t make you immune to blisters!

So while I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone, I am happy for the gift that it has given me. Happy that something came from all the years of suffering (one must try to look on the bright side!). Before my very first Ironman a few years back, Coach and I were going through my nutrition plans for the day – Plan A, B, C, D….. because nothing ever goes to plan on race day and you must be flexible. His last words to me were “you will dominate this – you are so strong because of everything you’ve been through, when you get to the point where you have to “dig deep” you will absolutely thrive. And……don’t be afraid to start drinking coke early on the marathon!”. Well, he proved to be oh so right. I couldn’t stomach much during the bike leg, so was heading into the marathon feeling a bit flat. I started on coke and water straight away, and kept that up throughout. Sure enough, my brain was super happy with that! While everyone around me was collapsing like flies, I just kept getting stronger and stronger – the fat-burning kicked in and I was having a ball! Indeed, I got to the end and was disappointed that it wasn’t a bit harder.

I joked to Coach we might try the UltraMan next time (back-to-back Ironmans).

We’ll see what the future brings!

K xo

March 10, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

When all else fails, Bake.

Hormones rule the World…ok I get it, I GET IT!

It’s been a pretty stressful last few months, which largely stems from the fact that I am once again faced with the ever-challenging issue of learning to trust my body.

After having a miscarriage 4 months ago, my body has decided that it’s going to do its own thing, regardless of whatever I am choosing to do. Despite zero change in my food or exercise, I have been battling an influx of hormones presumably stemming from the miscarriage. My previously flat stomach is now decidedly curved and my breasts have gone from a small B cup to a large C cup. Initially I thought that this would level off over time, but it seems they are here to stay – at least for the time being.

Tiffany’s-inspired Chocolate Cupcakes. I dare you not to feel uplifted!

It’s brought all those recovery memories flooding back. The overwhelming feeling that you are drowning in a sea of change and you don’t know when the wave is going to stop pummelling your body against the floor of the ocean. It’s also a bitter pill to swallow: that I would not only lose my baby, but that I would lose control over my body as well. My doctor reassures me that it’s a good thing, that my body is trying to set itself up to become pregnant again (which is what I want more than the world). My psychologist says that I should focus on the positives, like having amazing breasts – my husband has certainly had less trouble than me focussing on this one – and that this will not last forever. But for me, it’s all been downright confusing. Just when you think you truly know your body, know what it likes, know where its set point is, have come to accept a certain size as being healthy for your frame….it all gets thrown to the wayside. I can almost hear God laughing.

Once again it has reminded me that hormones do, in fact, control the world. Or at least our sleep, mood, emotions, fat deposition, curves, weight, fatigue and ultimately, fertility…. So what to do? The only thing I know how to do: make sure I am taking the best possible care of my body and mind and trust that it will settle into itself, wherever it is supposed to be. Which means, for me, cutting out caffeine and alcohol, eating A LOT of fruit, vegetables, good quality protein, nuts, seeds, good fats, and of course steering clear of gluten (I have Coeliac disease, as an aside, which does put me at a higher risk of miscarriage along with a history of Anorexia. Oh the joys.). It also means focussing on nourishing my body with activity that brings me joy and relaxation, namely running, dance, Pilates, group rides and swim sessions with my husband. Not because I have to do a set session or hit a predetermined interval; simply because my body can and it makes me happy. That is an important distinction. It means getting at least 8 hours of good quality sleep a night, and actively trying to relax during the day – deep breaths at work, 5 minutes of meditation when I get the chance, and laughing a lot. And of course, when all else fails, it means baking – the cheapest and best therapy of all.

Death by Chocolate: Chocolate Mousse Layer Cake with Chocolate Ganache

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to accept that I cannot control what is happening with my body. Ultimately, your body will change at various stages during your life, and there is very little that you can do to stop that – short of being unhealthy and falling back into eating disorders patterns, or conversely, saying “stuff it” and allowing yourself to become significantly overweight, which is not healthy either. It is well established in the research that your body has a “set point” – a range of about 5 kg, that it will defend at all odds. So just like in recovery, when you have to trust that you won’t keep gaining and gaining indefinitely; I too have to now trust that if I nourish my body and treat it well it will do what it needs to do to create the optimal environment for baby-making and health. I can’t change what that shape ends up looking like on me, but I can change how I react to it. I am faced with a choice – to reject the change and stick to everything I have known up to this point, or to embrace that I do not have control of what is happening and to learn to love my body, no matter what form it presents in. After all, I am still the same person inside.

It’s going to be a challenge, but I’m pretty good at overcoming those.
Keep on keeping on fighting the Good Fight. This one is going to be tough.

“When doubt seeps in, you got two roads, you can take either road. You can go to the left or you can go to the right and believe me, they’ll tell you failure is not an option. That is ridiculous. Failure is always an option. Failure is the most readily available option at all times, but it’s a choice. You can choose to fail or you can choose to succeed.” – Chael Sonnen

K xoxo

March 5, 2014 by Ana To Athlete

Show me how Big your Brave is

Reporters love asking celebrities what they would go back and tell their younger self. They reply with some warm fuzzy blurb along the lines of “things get better” or “be more confident”. If I could go back to my younger self – probably around age 15 – I would say: grow some balls and scream for help, scream so loud that no-one can ignore you, to hell with the fear….it may just save your life”.

Finally – the media doing something proactive towards body confidence

There is inevitably those fleeting moments in the eating disorder journey where the inner You is strong enough that you could probably ask for help. But these moments are so few and so far between, that the fear quickly envelops the soul and again sets you back down the path to Ana. I can still think of the few times during my decade with Ana – count them on one hand, actually – that I would have accepted help without too much of a fight. Those moments you remember, with clarity when it was just too hard to fight any more. Broken, at last. When I do think back on those few times, it still makes me feel physically violently ill to my stomach and sets my heart pounding, even all these years later. The extent of the fear of ratting Ana out is unlike anything else. To simply say the words “I need help”, comes with a plethora of assumed baggage weighing enough to drown anyone.

While eating disorders are rarely “silent” – those around you know there is something wrong – I would bet money on the fact that no one on this planet knows everything I did to myself during those years; the extent of the body abuse and the tricks that Ana played out. So while Ana may fool you into thinking “if it was that bad, someone would have intervened by now”; in reality, you and I both know that they have no idea what you are truly doing and what goes on in your mind. Looks can be incredibly deceiving.

My birthday cake. Made by me, and yes, also eaten by me (well, one piece! Baby steps)

But then the benefit of hindsight is that in all my wisdom, I can now look back with heartbreak, thinking “if only”. If only I had said to someone that I was unwell, and that I couldn’t stop myself. That I was so scared I wanted to vomit. That I thought I had control of this thing but that turns out to be the ultimate trickery. That I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to “act” like Me anymore; I want to find Me. If only….

There were many people in my life that I could have asked for help. My immediate family were a huge part of my problem and chose to be incredibly ignorant about my condition, so even as a 12 year old, I knew that was not an option. But my Aunty, my best friends, my boyfriend, my coach, and later my resident mentor at college, or my doctor…..any of these people would have given heart and soul to help me – and God knows how much they all tried at various times – if only I’d let them in. It would have taken a huge amount of guts and four words to change my life: “help me, I’m ready”.

Instead, I let Ana rule the world for a decade, pretending I was in control, but knowing full well for the latter years of my illness that I was not. In a final bid for freedom – of myself, not Ana – I jumped on a plane to Canada and set myself free in the world. I was going to get better. Only just 2 weeks in, failing miserably, alone in a backpackers in Vancouver, I collapse on the stairs from a near-lethal combination of starvation and a vomiting bug. For the record, I don’t count medical help that was not given by choice but rather by dire circumstance as “asking” for help. Clearly, this was not going to be a one-woman effort. By that stage, Ana was so strong that it was going to take a lot more than that to break her down.

On returning to Australia, this time as an adult, I checked myself into help for the first time ever. It was my choice. I was scared shitless and felt so out of control of my life, but it was what it came to. It took years of mess and emotional rollercoasters and a lot of help from my friends following that to find health and most importantly, Me. But I got there.

And yet the mind wanders at times…..How would things be different, if I’d gotten help so much sooner?

“Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is”

Help is scary, I know. But living alone with Ana is scarier. Just because it’s familiar, doesn’t mean it’s ok. Deep within every perfect little Anorexic is a voice that wants so desperately to stand up for You, for everything that should be yours and that you deserve just as much as everyone else in the world. Don’t let Ana fool you into thinking you don’t deserve it. Finding that inner voice and learning to use it is often the keystone to the mountain that is Recovery. It certainly was for me.

Be brave. Kick and Scream. Beg for help. I know You can do it.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
And they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave….

Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is…

Honestly I wanna see you be brave”
– Sara Bareilles

K xoxo