Feeding the Tiger: Understanding Eating Disorders in Endurance Athletes

The symptoms of an eating disorder extend far beyond the physical consequences- organ failure, amenorrhea, acid reflux, and other medical complications. They also carry an immense cognitive burden, leaving individuals mentally exhausted and with little capacity for anything else in their lives.

Having an eating disorder is a bit like secretly owning a dangerous pet tiger...stay with me here! You keep it hidden away, and the only way to keep it calm is to feed it three times a day. You can’t tell anyone about it, because if you do, it might be taken away. And why would that be bad? Because, in a strange way, the tiger makes you feel safe. It’s your alarm system, your source of comfort, your protector in an unpredictable world.

But feeding the tiger is exhausting. You have to be secretive, constantly inventing new strategies to keep it calm. The tiger can also hurt you and leave scars. You might hear about other ways to feel safe, but they’re uncertain. The tiger feels familiar, so you stick with it.

In this metaphor, the eating disorder is the tiger. It becomes the only thing that makes you feel confident, safe, or successful. It is something you can control when everything else feels out of control. But when every free moment of every day is consumed by feeding the tiger (planning, restricting, or hiding behaviors), there’s little room left for anything else. Relationships suffer. Joy fades. Brain fog becomes baseline. The person becomes less vibrant, less dynamic...a shell of who they once were. They know the eating disorder is harmful, but it fills a space that feels impossible to replace and too painful to remove.

For the endurance athlete, this mental fatigue eventually shows up in training and on race day. Each gel or bottle of nutrition turns into a calculation loaded with anxiety and dread. Post-race meals are performative rather than celebratory as they draw a curtain over a problem that they will try to rectify later. Concentration fades, exhaustion sets in, and the disorder lingers...always present, always demanding. If an injury doesn't occur first, then DNFs become more likely and crippling depression appears.

So what do we do? How can healing begin?

First, we have to get to the root of the problem. Why was the tiger there in the first place? What in your life feels chaotic? Why does uncertainty feel so intolerable?

Next, we begin redefining what it means to feel safe, in control, and successful. We imagine life without the tiger. What else could bring comfort or stability? This process is about finding new, sustainable coping mechanisms- ones that don’t destroy you in the process of helping you cope.

Then comes the hard part: embracing discomfort. Healing won’t feel good at first. But the pain is temporary, and leaning into it is what allows real healing to take root.

Finally, it’s important to remember that an eating disorder often takes the place of purpose. It’s a quick fix (a false sense of control) that ultimately limits your potential. Recovery means rediscovering who you are beyond the disorder, and realizing just how much you are capable of achieving when the tiger no longer runs your life.