In an editorial piece written for Espn.com, three-time Ironman world champion Chrissie Wellington talks candidly about her addiction to sports, and explains why it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
I’m an addict, pure and simple. But my addiction has brought me five world championship crowns, a little bit of money, chaffing and huge oversized calves. The drug? Sports. And like any addict, when I don’t get my fix, I become like Cruella De Vil (with a decidedly dodgy haircut). I get grumpy, I throw my toys out of the pram, I suffer cold turkey (nothing to do with Thanksgiving leftovers), and I chew on my nails — basically metamorphosing from a relatively stable, sporty person to Godzilla.
I am sure many of you can relate. We all do sports for different reasons: to get fit, to tone up flabby parts, to wear skin-tight Lycra, to justify vacuum-cleaner-style eating habits or to pick up girls/boys. And, yes, for the undisputed “high” that it gives us, the satisfaction that comes from reaching that fine line between pleasure and pain, the masochistic seed that thrives on the endorphin rush that only a good hard training session or race can provide. I know I have always had an addictive personality, but this obsession with sports didn’t develop overnight. I think I gradually morphed from a once-a-week kind of gal to a full-blown, “must-get-the-daily-fix” sport junkie.