Elite athletic performance doesn't equal elite health

Not all elite athletes are unhealthy, of course. But anything done to an extreme, rather than moderate level, can invite injuries and long-term repercussions.

Before I dive into my personal story, here’s outside sources you can check out. They often discuss the balance between health and elite fitness:

• Brad Stulberg and Steve Magness's The Growth Equation podcast. Steve was a top US runner. They talk about the Nike Oregon scandal involving Mary Cain at one point.

• Rich Roll podcast. Rich Roll (Stanford grad lawyer turned plant-based vegan ultra-marathoner and athlete) also hosts the Rich Roll podcast. He often interviews elite athletes and discusses wellness

• Blue Zones research. The people in the longest-lived areas in the world (the Blue Zones) mainly do moderate physical activity throughout the day, not intense exercise. Dan Buettner, who lead the research, himself regularly advocates for moderate rather than extreme activity

Some endurance athletes suffer from heart conditions due to overtaxing their cardiovascular systems. And to perform at high levels all the time, some elite athletes have to eat highly processed diets, which I'll touch upon later in this article.

I'll give my personal example from my time in the competitive weightlifting world, which I left years ago because of my worsening scoliosis. This world was electric, filled with as much macho showing-off as you'd expect. I respect the sport, just not the sometimes too-intense culture it can invite. Or "bro-y" culture if I'm to use slang terms here.

Soon after picking up a barbell at age 14, I could do a back squat of almost twice my bodyweight. I looked up the national records and memorized them so that I could chase them. Over the next years I regularly astounded coaches by how much weight I could lift. They'd always comment on how skinny I was but how I could out-lift much bigger people.

I loved both powerlifting and the Olympic-style. Weightlifting made me feel powerful, like I wasn't the awkward, diminutive, and shy girl I’d labeled myself as.

I liked hanging around the big jocks and feeling like I was one of them. They typically had tattoos, brash attitudes, and big hearts. Many didn’t care about academics. It was awesome and allowed me to funnel my intense personality into something else than studies.

The weightlifting culture was accepting and "bro-y" at the same time. It was "cool" to rip your hands and have to wipe blood off the bar. It was cool to have some long-term injury and have to bandage up. People would fast and get dehydrated to reach the lowest weight class possible for a meet. And a lot of people shunned cardio because it could possibly hurt their muscle "gains."

As a natural ectomorph myself, I felt nervous just going up and down the stairs too much. In my mind I was burning too many calories that I didn’t have to spare. Whatever muscle I had, I only wanted to use at the gym.

Maybe even in the recreational scene, you've noticed how at the gym, it's tempting to load up the bar beyond your capacity to "show off" your strength. Just pray you won't dislocate an elbow or herniate your back as you do so.

Some peoples' diets were highly processed to maximize immediate energy gains. Some seemed to live just off liquid shakes and sugary bars. I once contacted a sports nutritionist to ask him for his opinion on this matter, as I myself felt increasing pressure to eat a far more processed diet than I was. A fellow ectomorphic "hard-gainer" had been advised to wake up in the middle of night to drink a protein shake and fall back asleep, to try to get her body bigger. I really didn't want to do that.

Part of the sports nutritionist's response to me, by email, was:

"1) I think that HIGH level performance should not be confused with health. As an example [redacted] are the fittest on earth, but as a result of that, I do not believe they are the FITTEST on earth. That's not to say that elite fitness isn't a worthwhile pursuit, they just should not be confused."

He also wrote that the effects of a highly processed diet could possibly instill good hormesis.

The part about hormesis really got to me. He was basically saying that damage done could be good damage. But how could I know this damage was good?

I had every symptom of overtraining and under-recovery. Already, from my observation of other sports at elite levels (namely gymnastics) and witnessing my own health change, I'd realized that elite fitness is not synonymous with elite health. But I was in denial because I was addicted to the grind. I loved making PR's. I loved waking up at 4 AM to drive to the gym for an early session. I masochistically loved the rips and bruises.

I loved feeling strong, but at the same time I was breaking inside. If I gave it my all in a session, I’d get lots of praise, but my back was also starting to go numb. It was starting to affect my legs too. That scared me. I wanted to lift well and see how far I could push this, but I also didn’t want to become paralyzed.

Beyond that, I saw the time, money, and social expense that would come with pursuing my dreams. For me I decided it wasn’t worth it. I’d rather stay recreational and enjoy a diverse life more, than try to become professional and have to give up other activities I enjoyed.

If I still could weightlift, I would. Lifting feels like flying to me - taking something impossibly heavy and moving it through space. I love the precision and form it requires. It's deceptively simple, yet to excel you have to think like an engineer. Governing it all is physics, and you can change the fulcrums and lever arms. You have to be in control of your every muscle, your breathing, your timing. It's an art of mastery over the body and mind. It's meditation. It's celebration.

But reading the sports nutritionists' response to me was the beginning of the end of my voyage into striving for elite performance. I didn't want to spend hours a day anymore training, and my off-hours thinking about how to improve my technique or maximize recovery. I couldn’t ignore anymore the scoliosis in my back, which I thought was mild but seemed to be worsening. I stopped watching competitions and idolizing certain athletes. I saw behind the curtain how brutalized a lot of them were. And the pressure to work beyond injury, to threaten lifelong disability, bothered me. Especially in Olympic-style weightlifting which is so fast-moving.

When I see elite athletes now, I think not just of them but of the many people who had elite potential but chose to not pursue it. Instead, they prioritize other things in life. There is no right or wrong choice, but for me in leaving competitive athletics, I made the choice that I wanted long-term health over short-term glory.

I'm sure there are people out there who can get gold medals without sacrificing too much of themselves, and that's amazing. With smart coaching and improving sports science, more athletes are enjoying longer, more sustainable careers. As a personal gymnastics fan, I love seeing how the toxic culture of gymnastics is changing and places like SHIFT Movement Science are placing more importance on personal safety. I loved seeing how in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, Simone Biles was able to choose protecting her physical safety over winning medals.

Unfortunately a lot of people can cause irreversible physical harm to themselves before they are able to stop chasing their big athletic dreams. Like gymnast Elena Mukhina, and often it’s because they’re pressured by outside forces.

I’m curious: Would you rather have elite fitness, or elite health? If you had to choose between the two.