I got that question every time I stepped off a treadmill after having been on long enough to see multiple waves of people come and go through the cardio room. Freshman year of college I found a passion for the gym; running, weights, the whole nine yards. I started going with a friend but when their schedule got too busy to keep going, I continued. I found such freedom in the idea that I could go to the gym for a couple hours by myself and work as hard as I felt I needed, uninterrupted and unregulated. Running became a drug to me and lifting weights became the alcohol I used to swallow those pills which became a highly dangerous combination. For those of you who are new to eating disorders, one of their key characteristics is a desire to isolate. The gym became everything I needed: isolation and punishment for the self-hate I had bundled up inside. It was a release of anger, pain, and disgust while numbing myself to any and all problems I was facing. I could run for hours and not have to face my demons, finishing only when I hit complete exhaustion, at which point I became a walking, barely-talking zombie of myself for the rest of the day. Sure, plenty of people can go to the gym and work out super hard and go about the rest of their day fine. However, I was pushing myself to exhaustion day after day (I had the mindset that if I didn't workout, I didn't deserve food because I hadn't done anything that day) with little replenishment and nutrition. It was a flawed system but, as I said before, exercise became my drug of choice. I could completely numb myself to emotions during and for the rest of the day by physically exhausting myself. It was wonderful and terrifying. Another attraction of this dangerous game was the weight loss. At first it was a desire to become "fit and toned", which I achieved. I had people at the gym asking me if I was training for races. They would tell me I was an inspiration to be so dedicated to such an intense exercise program and they wished they could be like me. If you know me, I'm a very competitive person and it became a competition against myself for how much I could run, how much weight I could lose. I felt like if I didn't workout I was a failure, I wasn't the "girl who runs a lot" anymore. If I lost weight one day and not the next I would assume I hadn't worked hard enough or had eaten too much (despite eating a diet far below recommended for just daily activity). From freshman year to the beginning of my senior year in college I kept a routine that focused around running, lifting, and restricting as much as I could to still have energy for the gym. '

Fast forward to January 2018 and I'll introduce you to the beginning of the end. ***TRIGGER WARNING FOR THOSE WITH AN ED*** I began a strict regime of minimal six miles a day, seven days a week, with a minimal thirty minute lift session afterwards. On my worst days I ran 10+ miles; two times I hit 13 miles before 9 am. Calorically I wasn't taking in any more than I would burn through exercise (calculated using an Apple Watch, Fitness Pal, and various data available on Google). I have two words about this regime: it sucked. My brain always told me "One more mile, 10 more minutes." However, going out to eat with friends, family, and a boyfriend made restriction more difficult so it was primarily an exercise addiction until May. I started an internship two hours from my house and became fully responsible for my food intake, meals, and activity level. This is when the disorder attacked with a vengeance and a fury I had never experienced in my past eight years living with the monster inside. I cut back my food intake even more, to the point I almost passed out on the treadmill one day in June. That was it. That was the end of my exercising. Since I was too weak to exercise, I decided I'd have to compensate for the extra calories by eating almost nothing day in and day out. Give a human a month of minimal nutrition (enough to keep my heart beating but rendering me completely useless during the days) and it's no wonder I would fall asleep afraid I wasn't going to wake up in the morning.