ADHD, REDs, and me
ADHD, REDs, and me
By Ambassador, Mia Oldroyd
I'm a 24 year old recreational runner, and like the annoying kid in PE, I've always taken my sport as if I'm a full time athlete. I’ve been sporty from a young age: always running, kicking a ball, dancing, riding bikes and the rest. It started off with love, but then turned into something else.
At age 14, my entire family system blew up. My parents left, I moved house and school five times, and any sense of the word stability disappeared. I discovered Instagram, and Alice the influencer. She looked happy, had abs, did lots of HIIT and had some fanaticism for avocados. With no adult authority to guide me, I chose to idealise Alice.
I joined a gym and went 6 days a week. I tracked my calories, cut out my carbs, obsessed over my step count and had a daily mission to see how hard I could push my body. I felt great.
I had control, and had developed a way of remaining invincible to any emotional turbulence: by being totally consumed with endless thoughts of food. I restricted more and exercised more. I got into running 5ks a few times a week at max speed, fasted.
Then at 15, my periods stopped. At the time I thought this was great; in my mind, periods were embarrassing. And I was getting so much praise. I had ripped abs, bulging muscles and was constantly commended for my ongoing dedication to eating no more than a chicken breast and spinach leaves all day."
The doctors didn't seem concerned about my lack of periods either. They had their explanations. I repeatedly heard phrases like "It's normal", "Take the pill", "You’ve gained a bit of weight, that's why", and "You have PCOS".
Aged 18, I decided the next logical step was to run a marathon, virtually fasted, only allowing myself a plain rice cake at mile 16. I finished 4 hours 18 minutes later, completely broken. A feeling I'd learnt to love: the one my brain needed to tell me I was allowed to eat.
I also got a tibial stress fracture during this time, but again, medical professionals weren’t interested.
Then eventually things changed.
At 19 I was living alone, in my own place, and beginning a fulfilling career. I'd discovered meditation and began to acknowledge my inner emotional landscape. It was terrifying, yet excitingly freeing. I began to eat a bit more, stopped tracking my calories, stopped doing HIIT and started feeling more normal. My periods came back.
But at the same time, I discovered trail ultramarathon running, and became hooked. Hooked by the people, the community, the lack of regard for pace, the mountains, the silence, the quiet, the air, the joy, the love.
Whilst I was eating more, it wasn't enough. I found fuelling really challenging, and the impact of the last two years was beginning to show. I started to get injured every 4-6 weeks. I was constantly freezing, had digestive problems, awful fatigue, low iron and an unshakeable feeling that I was desperately unwell."
What's been hard for me to accept is that, for the last 3-4 years, I've not been in the eating disorder realm. I've not intentionally been restricting or overdoing it, not making decisions from a place of control or fear. I just loved to move. It was my solace and my time.
But the body doesn't differentiate between running for fun and running from fear. It takes a long time to feel well again. After 10 years, and on the cusp of turning 25, only now am I beginning to recover.
Recovery is really hard.
I've done a lot of psychological work, but what remains hard is the lack of structure, purpose, and routine.
As someone with ADHD, I've always felt there's a general 'sedation' I get from training. It tires me out enough to not feel like I want to reorganise all the furniture in the house."