Today, I Graduate

I entered college anticipating a chance to start over—a chance to bring out the person I had always felt had been trapped inside. I left high school as a depressed, eating-disordered, running-consumed, people-pleaser perfectionist who found out, upon entering college, that I still couldn’t let it all go.

I didn’t know how to let it all go.

I reached my dream in running with school records and All-American finishes as a college freshman, only to realize that this was not as fulfilling as I had hoped it would be; that as everyone praised me for my efforts, fear of the dissatisfaction I felt and a yearning to go to extremes haunted me in the loneliness of the disorder and perfectionist mindset.


I took a leap of faith when I started a raw food diet. While there was skepticism from my peers, raw food was the first major change, a switch where I realized I was in control of me life, that I could do daring things, too. While it did not end up as the healthiest means to an end, it was a path to the voice I had buried down for so long.

I faced reality after that dream-come-true year of running—I had turned from a judgmental, glory-driven athlete to a humbled, scared, bingeing girl stripped of her running “superpowers.” I faced my greatest fears in a life without my control of food or success in running: I realized I could be more than just running and food.

I had to be more than just running and food.


Writing gave me a voice at last despite anxiety and shame in sharing it. My eyes opened beyond my own fears to see how many others dealt with what I went through. I learned that it was never about discipline and desire, but about disorder and chaos and a confused identity.

I could be more than the food I ate, the amount I weighed on the scale, the schedule I dictated myself by, and the times I ran in races. I began to open my mouth not just to eat, but also to speak with confidence and enthusiasm because I realized how painful and frustrating it had felt to run in silence.


I am graduating college with a four-inch surgical scar tracing down my right knee that tells a story not of physical pain but emotional rebirth; that a comeback was never about racing after breaking my kneecap, losing weight again, or achieving All-American, but about learning to be the best Rachael I could be under the strain of every fear that became my reality. I graduate now with extra “meat on my bones,” a body that has carried me through it all, and a mind that never gave up.

I began to see the joy in life with great friends and family. I took the chance to break a few rules when I slept on the college soccer field for my twenty-first birthday, when I decided to not complete a school assignment for the first time in my life, when I got my first-ever C on an test, and when I decided that enough was enough with running to quit competing because the sport was taking away more than it was giving back.

That it was my turn to give back.


I graduate having enjoyed all-nighters, having broken away from rigid schedules, and feeling the serenity in sitting peacefully with myself without feeling guilt for “wasting” time. I graduate having met amazing new people with different ideas and views on life that allowed me to see beyond a world of running and food.

Today I graduate knowing that the desire to be the best runner was not what would make me feel better; that the “right” food would not bring out the real Rachael; and that self-discovery is painful but it forced me to face myself at last.

I graduate knowing I am privileged and blessed, and that a big part of my success is from the people I am surrounded with–a community of running and writing friends, fantastic professors and classmates who supported me through everything, coaches and parents who believed in my potential to be a great person and not just a great runner, and everything beyond perfection.


Order your copy of Running in Silence: My Drive for Perfection and the Eating Disorder That Fed It here.

6 replies
  1. Elizabeth Paddock
    Elizabeth Paddock says:

    Hi Rachel,
    This speaks straight to my heart–as a formerly obsessive runner and anorexic. I still struggle some days but your description of finding the real you throughout all-nighters, spending time with people you love, and just with yourself in solitude, is something I can now relate to, after a solid two years of an intentional recovery mindset. I literally could NOT have done these things pre-recovery, and when I think about all I missed out on, I’m just glad that I didn’t continue. It’s hard tho b/c in the pictures of my obsession, you’d think I look great and “healthy” but the opposite was true…it’s fascinating to me how looks can be deceiving, esp when it comes to eating disorders. Anyway thanks for your blog!!

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