NEDA TOOLKIT for Coaches and Trainers
Hidden in plain sight: A champion rower’s quest for perfection and a sense of belonging
leads to bulimia
Talking with Whitney Post, Life Alive Coaching
From the outside, my life looked like an athletic
success story. I was captain of my open-weight college
rowing team, which placed third at the NCAA Division
I national championships. As a lightweight athlete I
became a four-time US Rowing national team member,
a four-time national champion, a world champion, and
an alternate for the 2000 Olympic team. During this
entire time, I struggled with an eating disorder.
As a girl and young woman, I struggled to feel that I fit
in. At a young age I began wishing my body was smaller,
more “acceptable.” Around the time I went to college
my mother developed breast cancer and underwent
multiple surgeries, my parents got divorced, and my
father disappeared. I arrived at college hungry; hungry
to belong, to be noticed. I found what I was looking
for in rowing, and, along with it, a workout regimen
to aid me in my desperate pursuit of thinness. I fell in
love with the sport. I excelled at it and my ability to
perform earned me a place in a community of which I
desperately wanted to be a part. I dated a star of the
men’s rowing team; I had the loudest laugh; and I got
good grades. I did it all with an eating disorder.
Despite the thrill of rowing, deep down I felt lost,
unseen, angry and depressed. I found solace on the
water and in the dining hall. Each day was about
surviving until dinner. I knew nothing about nutrition.
I thought protein made you fat and that lunch was
for people who had a lot of time on their hands. I
exhausted myself each day at practice and looked
forward to rewarding myself with a warm, soothing and
filling dinner. The beliefs that organized my world were
played out through my body: thinness is rewarded by
society; food relaxes and soothes me; the more I work
out, the more I can eat; the more I work out, the better
I am at my sport. The problem with this formula was
that the more I worked out, the more food I needed to
restore energy and numb the pain. The result: bulimia.
I was never confronted by anyone on my team about
my disorder, but I worried constantly that my secret
would be discovered. I was deeply ashamed of it. My
coach did comment occasionally that I didn’t look well,
or noticed when my strength waned as I lost weight for
lightweight competitions, and he would appropriately
call me out on it. It meant a lot to me that he noticed,
and his comments would scare me into eating disorder-
free periods. As soon as it began, I sought therapy for
my eating disorder at the school counseling center.
Because my therapist didn’t specialize in eating
disorders and knew nothing about athletes’ struggles
with them, however, the sessions did little to stop
the disorder. Most people, including me, thought
my overtraining was the normal behavior of a driven
athlete. My college and post-college rowing years on the
national team remain murky memories. When I should
have been enjoying the athletic results of my hard work
and the adventures and opportunities it afforded me,
I was too distracted by my disorder and my underlying
unhappiness. In retrospect, what would have helped
me is access to resources—information, referrals and
support—and permission to use those resources. An
acknowledgement that, “Hey, this is something you
may be struggling with and here is where you can get
some help for it,” would have gone a long way toward
helping me get better. It is terrifying to seek help within
the culture of one’s sport because there is so much
shame and judgment associated with eating-disordered
behaviors. My deep fear was of not belonging or being
valuable to the team. Bringing resources to the team
increases the chance that a struggling athlete will get
help. Another important piece, especially for weight-
restricted sports, is to talk about the weight-making
process. Educate your athletes and provide resources
outlining the best ways to make weight. Alert them
to the physiological consequences of doing it the
wrong way. Some weight-making processes adhere
to secretive practices unofficially passed on among
athletes and coaches. Everyone wants to make it look
easy, so they downplay the extremes they put their
bodies through.
I know I would have performed significantly better
as an athlete and made different life choices after
my competitive rowing career was over had I not
been trapped in the physical, mental and emotional
quagmire of an eating disorder. For coaches,
athletes and teammates, eating disorders are messy,
complicated and confusing; it is easier to avoid
addressing the problem. The disorder will not go away
by itself, though, and most people are not equipped to
tackle these issues alone. As a coach, the best thing for
you to do is to take action: start asking questions, find
professionals who can help, and show that you care.
Page | 46