I am writing this for all of the men and boys without a voice.
As I reflect back on the past year I cannot deny the sadness I feel in my heart. A year ago I turned in my track uniform a month early, left my coach’s office, and drove home in the rain. I had just had the most difficult conversation of my life.
It’s not an easy thing to tell your coach that you are anorexic. Eighteen-year-old boys are not supposed to be anorexic. State qualifying sprinters are not supposed to be anorexic.
You see I, like most boys my age, was convinced that eating disorders were perhaps the most feminine of all mental health disorders–something that would never once cross my mind as a possible explanation for my rapidly deteriorating physical and mental health. Even after being forced to quit my all-time favorite sport for risk for…
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