“Crawling is acceptable. Puking is acceptable. Tears are acceptable. Pain is acceptable. Quitting is unacceptable.”

Scrolling through my Instagram feed, I came across this ‘fitspiration’ mantra. I pointed it out to my friends, none of whom found its message particularly disturbing. Yet, for me, the quote reflected the black and white thinking that led me deep into the depths of exercise addiction.

Two years ago, I would haul myself out of bed at 4:30am, stumble out the door, and run. Every morning, I would run 12 miles and sneak back into my bed before my family woke up. Fluffing up my hair and wiping my face to avoid tell-tale signs of sweat, I would emerge from my room to have breakfast with my family, completely exhausted yet filled with pride. I was a dedicated runner. The day would be spent scheming to draw as much activity as I could out of any situation. I suggested canoeing trips, cycling, and hiking. I would sneak in vigorous swims in the sea while my family paddled.

During the evening, I would set out for a second run. With legs still aching from the morning’s effort, I would pound away on the road for mile after mile. My parents were catching on to my addiction so gave me a strict time limit of one hour. In those 60 minutes, I forced myself to run as fast as possible, covering as many miles as possible, burning as many calories as possible.

I think I knew in the back of my mind I had an addiction. But, bombarded by ‘fitspiration’, I was convinced that more was better. If one hour’s training was good, two would be better. If losing one pound helped me shed a few seconds off my mile time, just think what ten pounds could do. With the help of ‘fitspiration’ mantras, I convinced myself others would do the same if they were dedicated enough.

And so it continued, and I lost so much in the process. I lost a lot of friends through choosing to spend lunchtimes working out in the school gym, missing parties to log more miles and near-on refusing to ever sit down. I strained the relationship with my boyfriend and my family, losing their trust through elaborate lies aimed at sneaking in more exercise. It sounds rather cliché, but I also lost myself. I became nothing more than a machine plugging through the daily motions of exercise and determining my entire self-worth by minutes exercising, distance covered, or the speed of running.

Not only was there a detrimental impact on my mental health and social life, but my physical wellbeing also began to take a turn for the worse. I was eventually plagued with constant colds; my hair began to fall out, and every limb in my body ached. It took two torn tendons to force me to stop running, and I had to take 10 months off.

The damage that exercise addiction did to my life seems so obvious when written out. Yet, exercise addiction is inadvertently praised by society. It only takes a brief scroll through social media to see how often disordered thoughts about exercise are promoted. "Suffer the pain of discipline, or suffer the pain of regret", "Go to bed sore or wake up sorry" –  these quotations drill in the thought that it is not only acceptable but desirable to feel guilt when not exercising. This message is highly damaging to mental and physical health, particularly for vulnerable people with tendencies towards perfectionism and black and white thinking.

We need to talk about… Teenage gambling addicts

Societal encouragement does not only stem from social media. The latest measure that may be implemented by the Royal Society of Public Health is to show ‘exercise equivalents’ on food packaging. It has been suggested that nutritional labels should include featuring hours of activity that it takes to burn off the calories consumed. The idea that exercise is needed to earn the basic right to food seems deeply problematic. There is a fine line between commitment and compulsion, and one that societal nudges can push people over. Increasing exercise levels is something that would collectively benefit society, but it is rarely acknowledged that exercise can fall into the category of ‘too much of a good thing'. Food is a ‘good thing’, but over-eating can cause physical and mental health problems. Likewise, exercise can be just as detrimental when taken to extremes. Increased exercise is not synonymous with increased health benefits.

Of course, many competitive athletes undergo an intense training schedule without a problem. Yet, the real crux of the issue is psychological. An exercise addict would feel compelled to exercise even when it would be detrimental to their quality of life. The addict would continue despite illness or injury, whereas the athlete would take a rest. The level of distress from skipping a workout to prioritise other life circumstances would be sky high in the addict, but closer to annoyance in the athlete. For the addict but not the athlete, exercise becomes their whole identity.

For now, I’m learning to adopt a healthier attitude towards exercise. I am learning that a sandwich does not equal a 45-minute run and that my world will not collapse if I lie in bed eating leftover pizza rather than go for an early morning workout. I am learning that I am defined by more than numbers.