SARAH ERIN THOLE 

The Woodlands,TX

I’ve always been an athlete. Movement, sweat, and pushing my physical limits have always brought me a sense of purpose and joy. But what began as a healthy love for performance and strength took a dark turn during high school, when I developed an eating disorder. What had once been about passion turned into obsession—especially with cardio. It became my drug, my coping mechanism. If I didn’t run, walk, or burn off what little I allowed myself to eat, I felt anxious, panicked, moody, and completely unhinged.

This disordered relationship with food and exercise followed me well into adulthood. By the time I was approaching 30, I had already spent five years working as a Natural Healthcare Practitioner. On the outside, I was helping others achieve balance, health, and harmony. But behind closed doors, I was living a secret life—one marked by brutal calorie restriction, ten-mile daily runs, hour-long walks with my dog, constant weight training, and an internal war that hinged on how few calories I consumed each day. I felt like a fraud. I hated the disconnect between what I preached and how I actually lived. And I knew if I didn’t make a drastic change, this disorder would destroy me. Or worse—I would die from it.

That’s when I found a Holistic Eating Disorder Coach who, without a doubt, saved my life. Around the same time, I discovered CrossFit. I gave up long-distance running and incorporated yoga into my life to help quiet the constant, exhausting mental noise. It might sound counterintuitive to introduce a high-intensity sport like CrossFit during recovery, but what I found there was the exact opposite of what had harmed me.

CrossFit became a turning point because it flipped the script. In that community, value wasn’t placed on how small or lean you were—it was on what your body could do. I was immediately drawn to that mindset. And yes, I admired the strong, powerful look of those women—the “CrossFit goddesses” who radiated confidence and resilience—but more than that, I was inspired by their capability.

CrossFit became the second thing that saved me from myself. My coach understood my story and helped me shift my focus from shrinking my body to fueling it. For the first time in years, I had a community that celebrated strength, not restriction. Setting goals became about improving lifts, mastering movements, and expanding capacity—not chasing a smaller number on the scale.

I could finally breathe again.

I fell back in love with fitness—but this time, it wasn’t about punishment. It wasn’t something I had to do to earn food or worth. It became something I genuinely enjoyed, felt passionate about, and—most importantly—found joy in.

Today, that healing journey continues to shape my life and practice. I’ve now been a Functional Medicine and Naturopathic Practitioner for 17 years and a CrossFitter for 12. I also discovered powerlifting along the way, and both modalities have transformed how I show up in the world—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. They empower me, ground me, and constantly remind me of the beauty of strength.

My relationship with fitness has completely evolved. I no longer use movement to shrink myself; I use it to express gratitude for my body. I fuel myself to perform, to recover, to thrive. And as a practitioner, I now bring a deep understanding of the struggles my clients face—because I’ve lived them.

Fitness saved me—but not in the way people might assume. It wasn’t about getting lean or chasing aesthetics. It was about reclaiming joy, regaining control, and learning to love my body not for how it looked, but for what it could do. And that love? It’s the most powerful form of wellness I’ve ever known.

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