David Stansbury is an undergraduate student at Anderson University in Indiana where he is pursuing a major in exercise science and minors in psychology and nutrition. David is on the cross country and track and field teams. When he’s not running, he loves getting coffee and reading books that are about running or working on the mental side of sports, or spending time with his girlfriend. He loves being around his friends playing cards or board games. David’s main goal in life is to use the resources and passions that he has to help people get better in all aspects of their life.
Note: Eating disorder behaviors mentioned. Events and conversations have been recreated from David’s memories of them.
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During my freshman year of college, I believed that food needed to be earned. I “earned” food by how hard I worked, and I alone determined when I deserved it. This came from a constant negative body image that I had developed from the comparison between myself and the athletes that were around me, and from years of being made fun of for my body.
The days I felt that I deserved food, I would eat and feel content with myself and my body. But on days when I felt that I didn’t deserve it, I told myself that I didn’t get to eat, or that food that I did eat, I didn’t get to keep.
These thoughts intensified when I looked at my performance in running. When I ran well, I attributed it to the weight that I had lost and the body that I currently had. But when I ran poorly, I would tell myself that I was too big or that I didn’t have the body that a true runner “should” have.
Racing With Negative Thoughts
I vividly remember racing at one home indoor meet when I was on pace to run one of my best times ever in the 3k. But after the first mile I felt sluggish. Every step that I took felt heavier and heavier. After the race I told myself that I felt like that because I weighed too much and because of my body. From there I sunk deeper and deeper into an eating disorder.
I spent countless days and nights in tears about what was happening. I felt like I had to restrict myself from food to run faster. But more than anything, I felt like I was losing control of my life because of my thoughts about food.
I questioned my purpose in life, and I questioned why I would still do anything. During my college classes I couldn’t focus, and I found it difficult to stay awake. Easy runs at a seven-minute pace used to feel effortless and freeing. Now, each run sent the world spinning. My legs would wobble, and I wondered if I could even finish.
And then one of my teeth broke.
I was chewing on some peanuts one day before practice when I bit down on my left side molar and felt a hard nugget in my mouth. At first I thought it was a peanut, but upon further examination I saw that it was white. I then felt my tooth with my tongue and I realized that it was jagged and broken. Horror spiked through my body. I had read about what stomach acid could do to your mouth, but the fact that I was now starting to experience an effect of that was terrifying to me.
I knew that something needed to change, but I was too scared to do what it took. I feared that I would lose running, which felt like the only thing that I had.
Conversation With Coach
It was my best friend who urged me to tell our coach. So one day after a workout, I sat down in my coach’s office.
“I have a problem,” was all I could get out to her. I didn’t want to tell my coach what was really going on. But she encouraged me to share more.
“I think I have an eating disorder,” I said. “I have been purging food for about a month.”
My coach was shocked. She asked me why I felt the way I did. I felt too ashamed to tell her. She told me that we would talk to our athletic trainer the next day. She encouraged me to get the help that I needed, and she said that she would be by my side through it all. I left the meeting in tears and wondered what my future would look like.
I went to therapy, which I was very reluctant to do because I didn’t want to be looked at differently. Luckily getting into therapy was relatively easy because our campus offered free services to all students, but filling out the form was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
Due to scheduling conflicts I unfortunately was never able to get the true effect that I wish I would have gotten with therapy. I talked with the athletic trainer, worked with a nutritionist, and I tried to do everything that I could.
The Final Straw
After a 5k that left me feeling empty—my lowest point—I knew everything had gone too far.
It was the first 5k of my outdoor track season. Despite all of my personal and nutritional struggles, I still set personal bests in every indoor track event and raced to an All Conference spot in the indoor mile. So looking at this outdoor race, I was excited to make my breakthrough. After all, outdoor Conference was right around the corner.
The moment the gun went off I went straight to the lead which is what I would normally do. But soon I knew that something was wrong. The world started to spin and get darker.
“Stay in lane one!”
“Don’t look back!”
My teammates shouted encouragement and instructions the entire race, but I drifted into lane two the whole race in an effort not to fall into the infield. I constantly looked back to see if anyone was close.
As I crossed the line, I collapsed to the ground. I had won by twenty seconds, but I was in tears. My teammates thought I was upset because I didn’t run the time that I wanted. I don’t know if any of them truly knew what had been happening behind closed doors.
“I just feel like I can’t get anywhere right now,” I admitted to my coach moments later. She asked me to meet with her the following day.
Ending the Season
When I walked into the meeting I saw my coach and our athletic trainer.
“David, I’m sorry but I have to end your season,” my coach said, her voice breaking. “I can’t keep letting you do this to yourself.” I looked at the ground and I tried to hold my tears in.
“I’m assuming that’s non-negotiable?” I said with kind of a smirk, hoping to do anything to keep running. She told me no.
“I hope you know you’re strong for talking about this David,” the athletic trainer told me.“The way your coach talks about you, she has so much joy in coaching you.”
As I walked back to my dorm I tried to hold my emotions in. As I got to my room I broke down crying and berated myself with negative comments. It felt like all the time that I had put in had been a waste. At that point I knew that I had to take control back over my life.
I hated who I had become.
Summer Support
With most of my teammates being my best friends, they all knew what I had been struggling with. But I didn’t want to tell them that I was done because I was too embarrassed. To them, running was who I was–it was what I lived and breathed. It was the thing that I truly loved. But after a day of not being at practice, they started to wonder what was going on.
I finally told my friends that my eating disorder had gone too far and that it was decided that I would stop running for a while. I cried every time that I told them. And they always told me they loved me and to talk to them if I needed help.
With the full support of my coaches, family, friends, and teammates, I started my journey to recovery. I went into the summer with hope and new encouragement to help myself. I followed professional guidance and watched nutritional videos from other runners and athletes to see that eating was normal and that it was important in running.
While the summer was still a very up and down experience, I was in one of the best places that I had been in for a long time. Encouragement came from all over–from my parents reminding me that I was loved, to my teammates telling me that they cared about me.
One of the things that was always in my mind was a quote that one of my fellow competitors told me: “No food will be as harmful to you as an eating disorder.” This stuck, and I would remind myself that food made me better. Since those times I have seen hope in my life like never before.
I encourage anyone who thinks they may be struggling like I did to reach out to people about it. I was scared to talk to anyone about what was going on, and scared to get help. The best thing that you can do for yourself is get the help you need and deserve.
