I was set for the Olympics until 1 thing caused my health to fail

From the very beginning, Pippa Earley's life seemed destined for glory. By the age of twelve she was training 23 hours a week and by sixteen was being hailed as one of the brightest prospects in British athletics, breaking three British records in Modern Pentathlon and standing toe-to-toe with future Olympians.

But behind the medals and headlines, a silent struggle was taking hold as Pippa battled with the eating disorder, anorexia nervosa. It was a struggle that nearly claimed her life. At the nadir of her illness, in February 2022, the young heptathlete was so close to death that she weighed five stone and had to be resuscitated. She was hospitalised for a year.

However, although her return to fitness may have left indelible scars on body and mind, it has also transformed her life. Today, Pippa, 25, is determined to help other young people affected by eating disorders and is using Instagram to reach them. She is also planning to give talks in schools in her bid to share her story and prove that recovery is possible.

Pippa's journey to the pinnacle of her sport began early.

"I used to run all the time from when I was just a toddler; I remember chasing my dad back from the train station just for the joy of it," she recalls. "Some of my earliest memories are just running, and wanting to keep running, and never getting tired. At primary school, I remember the boys wanting to race me and beating them on sports day."

Things quickly progressed from that point.

"After starting gymnastics I was just full on, representing the south of England at National level competitions," she says.

From energetic young child to elite gymnast - selected into a demanding squad at the age of just eight - Pippa's world soon became a cycle of training, competition, and restriction. Holidays meant ten-hour gym marathons; weekends were reserved for extra sessions. "There were no real rest days - you just did what was needed to be the best," she says, pragmatically.

By the age of 13, Pippa was a national hurdles champion - unexpectedly surging ahead to claim gold in an under-15 category, a feat she remembers with passion and awe. The following year, she broke the Pentathlon record previously held by Jessica Ennis-Hill, drawing national and even Olympic attention. Endorsements and scholarships followed, including a coveted place with Kansas State University in the US, training under elite coaches. Her father was supportive, and determined. He set about helping her to reach what he had been told was within her grasp: the 2028 Olympics in Los Angeles.

Yet the discipline required to stay on top in this most demanding of sports came with a high cost.

"My coaches wanted me lean," she recalls. A normal teenage social life was off limits. "I missed out on weekends with friends, meals with family. Even my mum insisted on a strict regime - I really should have had more balance," Pippa reflects. "I would love to have had more hugs with my mum."

Bullying at school compounded the isolation; her naivety exploited as she focused only on performance. "I was nicknamed innocent and gullible. I never thought people would lie - I believed everything, even toxic things about food and love," she explains.

Pippa's vulnerability made her the perfect target for disordered beliefs. "I thought being skinny meant being loved, accepted. I just wanted to be good enough," she adds.

That pressure led first to binge eating, then purging with laxatives, and eventually to severe anorexia, "I would binge at night out of loneliness, then punish myself with long runs and pills," she explains.

Moving to the US, Pippa hoped for a fresh start. Instead, pandemic isolation in a foreign land at the tender age of just 19 intensified the challenge she faced in an already mercilessly competitive field. Eating patterns spiralled; access to unlimited food in college settings clashed with ingrained habits. She was young for her age, with few life skills, and Covid was a terrifying time of isolation, 5,000 miles away from family in England.

"Binges became a dark coping mechanism. I couldn't stop - even when I wanted to," she tells me. When her coach eventually discovered the problem, he insisted she return home and recover.

Despite intensive dietary work, Pippa's downward spiral continued. The trauma of isolation, compounded by family anxieties and medical indifference, "My dad called hospitals out of desperation; at under 40kg (6st 4lbs), I was told there were sicker people," left her dangerously alone.

He even arranged for her to spend a couple of months in a private UK clinic in a bid to help her find equilibrium and balance. But it wasn't effective. Then he organised a carer to look after her at home, in an attempt to create the perfect conditions for his daughter's healing. But, during this time, Pippa's mental health was failing.

She became increasingly unsettled and spent time with relatives in Yorkshire before staying with a supportive uncle and aunt in West Sussex. They arranged for her to see a psychiatrist who stated that she would die within six weeks if she was not admitted to hospital.

In March 2022, Pippa was sectioned and placed in a secure ward at a hospital in London. Four days later she had a cardiac arrest and was resuscitated. She was then transferred to a psychiatric facility in North London in a bid to save her life. Then she lost her hair, which began to fall out in clumps due to malnutrition; at this time, her body fat was just 4%.

"Dad was devoted to me, but throughout all this I think he felt powerless to help me," says Pippa. "He tried everything."

What followed was a year-long battle. Severe malnutrition, digestive failure, and panic attacks rendered her almost bedbound. Even hospitalization didn't offer safety; forced feeding and punitive routines left her shamed and withdrawn.

"The hospital looked like a prison, with barbed wire windows," recalls Pippa. "While there I was force fed with a tube, and I would be screaming and crying. I felt I was being wrongly treated for my outward appearance, not for the things that led to it. That place broke me."

Throughout all this, her father Aidan felt like an anchor. "He always said I didn't need medals, that just being his girl was enough," she explains.

"When I went into cardiac arrest, I remember him screaming for nurses - I was so close to death they thought I wouldn't survive. He was with me every day."

After she left the secure unit in October 2022, he arranged for her to go to a clinic in South Africa for eight months.

"Tragically, after three months of rehab there, I got the devastating news that he had died," says Pippa, weeping at the memory.

When she arrived home in London, the fatherless girl became a recluse spending eight months in her bedroom. Her weight ballooned to 14 stone.

"After his sudden death I was bed bound for nearly a year, barely seeing daylight," she recalls.

"Losing my dad broke me, but it also ignited a fire in me. I knew I had to get better to make him proud."

Recovery was neither linear nor straightforward. Pippa endured months of depression, alongside the weight gain, and agoraphobia. Friends coaxed her back into small acts of movement. And she began sharing her journey back to fitness on Instagram, building a supportive community of followers and inspiring others to choose health over despair.

"A friend, Lucy, encouraged me to train again. I was terrified - I'd become obese and lost any confidence. But she stuck by me, and slowly I began coaching kids. They saw me for who I was, not what I'd been."

Today, at 25, Pippa is not the same person. Her body, once ravaged by the control that her mind exerted over it, is strong.

"I share my story and my films and photos on Instagram because I really want people who struggle to see that there is hope, even when it seems impossible," she explains.

Now an athletics coach, she dedicates time to youth groups, hoping to inspire young athletes towards balance and self-care.

"I've learned the hard way that winning isn't everything. These days, I want my legacy to be about nurturing the next generation - helping them find strength within themselves, and not just on the track," Pippa says.

"If my journey can help one person get through a mental health struggle, that will mean more to me than any medal ever did. I want to show people that you can recover. Winning a gold medal or helping someone? I know for me what brings more value. I feel really excited about the future now as I have a love for people and not an ounce of judgement. I just want to help."

Today, Pippa is vibrant, outspoken, and proud to be living a healthy and independent life. Her story is inspirational, but it also reveals the pressures elite athletes face, and the devastating consequences of the unhealthy thinking that can result.

"Every day, I remind myself: health comes first. My dad gave me strength when I had none, and I pray that people see the strength in my journey and know that anything is possible - even when the odds feel stacked against them."

With her courage on display, and her photos shared on our pages not for their shock value but to show that recovery is possible, Pippa is reinventing what it means to be a champion - one young life at a time.

• @pippa_earley