Shannon's Journey with REDs, and Motherhood
by Shannon Perrins
An Adventurous Alaskan Childhood
I grew up in Alaska, in a safe and loving environment filled with adventure. I was privileged to fly airplanes, hunt big game animals, travel to other countries, as well as participate in many sports throughout school. I naturally excelled at sports, and enjoyed moving my body and working hard. But even as a 10-year-old, I remember fearing that once I hit puberty or had babies, my athleticism would fade, I’d gain weight, and I’d never be the same again. These seemingly small, intrusive thoughts would continue to harm me over the years to come.
I began my running journey in middle school on the cross country team, when I also started receiving compliments on my body for the first time. I quickly began to associate running with being skinny, and skinny with being liked, and so on and so forth. Competitive soccer was my main sport, however, and I would regain some weight after the cross country season ended.
My soccer team came with its own challenges, as I quickly realized the girls who were a little slower and a little bit “bigger” were quickly ostracized by the team. I made a decision that to remain “cool”, I needed to ensure I was the fastest and strongest girl on the team and make sure to not gain weight. In my still developing mind, I believed that if I lost my thinness, I would lose other people's love".
By the time I went to college, I was burnt out and dealing with injuries, so I left competitive soccer behind. When I gained 10 pounds my freshman year, I hated myself for it. Sophomore year, I juggled daily CrossFit, running, 18 class credits, and a packed social life all while severely under-fueling. I punished myself for eating, exercised obsessively, and still didn’t recognize I had an eating disorder because I didn’t fit the stereotypical image.
Then came the breaking point. On Valentine’s Day, after eating “too many sweets,” I dragged a yoke across the CrossFit gym with far too much weight and hit the bar on the back of my neck when I couldn’t continue carrying the weight. I had fractured my C7 vertebra. I left school, returned to Alaska to live with my parents, and finally began counseling for eating disorders. I started learning just how twisted my beliefs around food and health had become. I hadn’t realized this in part because I truly believed I was pursuing my healthiest self, and was reinforced by the many compliments and praise I received for my determination and self control.
Rediscovering Joy in Movement
Recovery wasn’t instant, but it was real. I returned to school that fall with a new outlook, let go of CrossFit, and rediscovered running for joy rather than punishment. During my junior year, I began training for half and full marathons as I discovered I was quite good at distance running and eventually qualified for Boston twice before finally running it in 2022. I still struggled with negative body image, but I was making progress and focused more on being strong than looking thin.
I met my amazing husband in 2014, the year I fractured my C7. He changed me for the better, and immediately I enjoyed and celebrated our differences as I had never met anyone like him. He was kind, gentle, content, and had nothing to prove. We were married in 2018, and I remember telling some of my friends that “he healed me from my disordered eating patterns”. He is a big sandwich guy, meat eater, and just enjoys food without overthinking it like I did. The first few years of marriage, I hinted at my past struggles, but he never really got to know the broken girl that I was before he met me.
As our relationship grew, so did my love for distance running. I started excelling and placing in races, and ran my first 49k in 2019, my first 50 mile race in 2021, and ran the Boston Marathon in 2022. At this point I had 7 other marathons under my belt, and loved seeing what my body was capable of. I was fueling my body to endure these really long distances, so I was worrying less about the number on the scale and more about being strong. However, even though I had made such huge strides in my recovery, I was still very focused on healthy eating and maintaining my weight, always aware of what the number on the scale was no matter how much I underplayed it to my friends, family, and even myself.
Fertility Frustrations and Unanswered Questions
Five years into marriage, we started dreaming about kids. I had been on birth control since age 12 for acne, and when I came off it my cycle was erratic and confusing. I felt completely mystified by my body and, after a year and a half of disappointment and tears, we started working with a fertility specialist and were able to get pregnant a few months after working with her. However, even when working with her, my cycles still weren’t normal length and again, I was putting a bandaid on an issue that was much deeper and actually quite simple related to underfueling.
My pregnancy was a breeze overall. I had just a few days of nausea, (which I know makes some women want to punch me in the face!) and I was able to run 5-6 days a week all the way through. My OBGYN encouraged me to continue running and expressed zero concerns about my training. I was also working ten-hour shifts as an occupational therapist in a hospital setting meaning I was so busy that I often struggled to fuel enough to support both myself and my growing baby. He was small throughout pregnancy, measuring in the 7th percentile at 32 weeks, but no one asked about my nutrition or activity levels. Instead, I received compliments about my body size and how I was still maintaining my fitness. As time went on, there was more concern due to the rate of growth declining. About a month before the baby was due, my doctor told me I was a cm dilated and I needed to cut back on running finally. I ended up having my sweet 4lb10oz baby that next night naturally. I felt so strong and so proud of myself for accomplishing the hardest race I had entered yet. He was healthy, and didn’t even require the NICU. Little did I know that the hardest race of all would be my postpartum season and that things I left unaddressed for so long would catch up to me again.
The first few months with my baby boy were bliss. I felt proud of my body and what it had accomplished, and I was so content to finally get to snuggle my little guy. I was so eager for my 6 week OB and pelvic PT appointment, and to be “cleared” to return to running again. My pelvic floor PT, though well-meaning, wasn’t familiar with athletic return to sport, and I resumed running too quickly. I had minor prolapse which was my primary concern, and looking back, I now know I should have started with some simple plyometrics to ensure my body was ready, and then progressed slowly starting with run/walk cycles only when I was properly fueled and getting adequate sleep.
But I felt so good to be shuffling around my neighborhood again at a slow pace that I began to increase my distances despite developing persistent pubic pain. Many people downplayed my pain as a normal part of being postpartum, so being a distance runner used to running through pain, I continued slowly jogging through it. Food was something I was not thinking about very much, and definitely wasn’t something I was eating a lot of at the time! I also wasn’t sleeping much with a newborn baby. I had so many warning signs to take it easy, but I ignored them all in hopes to get some time to myself and feel “normal” again by getting a run in.
Eventually, a friend and fellow PT familiar with stress fractures convinced me to get an MRI. I had bilateral superior pubic rami stress fractures. I was devastated. I was essentially housebound, unable to run or even walk without pain. My recovery involved upper-body strength work, swimming, and most importantly a reckoning with my health. The only things that helped me stay sane during this time were my belief that God is good and I can trust Him even when things fall apart, my extremely happy baby, my loving and extremely supportive husband, and my PT sessions where I received support, challenges, and things to do for my recovery which helped me feel more in control again.
A DEXA scan confirmed osteopenia and I discovered I had iron-deficiency, so I started working with a REDs-informed dietitian who helped me understand just how under-fueled I was, especially while breastfeeding. A counselor also familiar with REDs helped me break free from my obsession with an arbitrary “ideal” weight I had clung to since sixth grade. I finally put the scale away for good. My cycles returned more regular than ever and I began truly healing, body and mind.
In learning about REDs, bone stress injuries, and postpartum recovery, I saw so many red flags I had missed. Even working in healthcare, I hadn’t understood the toll under-fueling was taking on my body. I had truly believed I was healthy because I didn’t “fit” the image of an eating disorder. But even just being slightly under-fueled during pregnancy and being reinforced (not purposefully of course) when I was told how good my body looked by family, friends, and healthcare providers, I had no idea the long-term harm I was doing to my body".
Even after delivering my baby, the nurses complimented me on my “flat belly”. And, though my first few months with my baby were so joyful, I was still unfortunately very focused on losing the pregnancy weight. I was praised by society when I lost that weight so quickly. I’ve realized how twisted we have things in our world, that women are praised for “bouncing back” and “reclaiming their bodies” after giving birth. There are so many athletes that are able to get back to their sports after having their babies, and I assumed I would be that athlete racing again by 6 months postpartum.
I am now 14 months postpartum, still not running pain free and very far from racing again still, but am working with a run coach on a slow progression. I still have to be mindful about my calorie intake and ensure I am eating enough and will be on this journey of properly fueling all my life, I suspect. I have connected to other runners with similar injuries, and I’ve realized how important it is to share my story so that others don’t feel alone and to reveal the harm that intentional and unintentional under-eating can cause.
We live in a culture of glamorizing and praising self-discipline if it leads to a thin body, and social media has harmed so many women by making it seem like thinner equals better. I want to reveal the lies and point out the beauty of fueling correctly and enjoying food and exercise. The long-term effects and consequences that under fueling has on bone health are simply just not worth it, and will take years for me to recover. Motherhood and recovering from a significant injury at the same time has been my hardest and longest race so far. However, I am more resilient than ever before, and I know someday when I am racing again, I will be stronger because of these setbacks I’ve had in my racing career. But for now, I celebrate the resilience I have had in my continued recovery, my transition to motherhood, and how I’ve learned to love my body even in the midst of its brokenness.
