Athlete Mental Health and the Collin Chartier Case

Yesterday the triathlon world was rocked by news that American pro Collin Chartier, last year's winner of IRONMAN Mont Tremblant and the PTO US Open, was suspended for 3 years after testing positive for EPO - arguably the biggest doping case in the sport's history.

I do not know Collin personally. However, I looked to him as an example of a fellow pro who seemed to chip away year by year for multiple years and finally had his big breakthrough. Though he denies doping with EPO until November 2022, his admission that he has taken L-carnitine (a substance that disgraced track and field coach Alberto Salazar was rather enthusiastic about) for quite some time speaks to the fact that at best, he has been sitting in a grey area for a while, and his progression in the sport is not as it seems on the surface.

What struck me most deeply about Collin's situation was his explanation that poor mental health as a result of going "all in, too much so" is ultimately what drove him to take EPO. As he wrote in his apology on Instagram:

"I started using this PED in November after feeling like I have lost my way in this sport. In the moment I was injured and sick and felt I had to do this if I was going to have the success I wanted in 2024. Feelings of intense pressure and expectations to win the biggest races in 2024 along with feeling unhappy with the personal sacrifices I had made. In my mind I thought I had to deny myself friendships, happiness, socializing, and having fun in training to be the best, and I lost the love for the sport. In my mind it became all or nothing. I went all in, too much so, and now I am all out."

This hits close to home because of my own experience going "all in" and suffering negative mental (and physical) health outcomes as a result. Much of what Collin is describing, I have felt DEEPLY in the last few years. In that sense, I have empathy for Collin the person. (I'll address his terrible choice later.)

When I initially turned pro in 2018, I joined a full-time training environment in which the "all in" mentality was preached and where winning was emphasized above all else. Up until this point, I had never heard of going "all in." I had a very healthy relationship with sport and approached it very holistically. It was always about a love of competition, pushing myself, seeing how good I could be, and being in nature. I liked winning, yes, and I had been very successful at a young age. However, I had ridden the lows of puberty, injuries, and years of school where rigorous academics came first, and had recently come out the other side, reinventing myself as a triathlete. Notably, even in my amateur triathlon career, I was extremely good at listening to my body and setting boundaries.

Yet when I joined this new elite training environment, all that went down the drain. I was pressured to go "all in": that is, drop everything in pursuit of triathlon - including any form of work - before I was even close to becoming financially stable in the sport. (As it was put to me once: "Kill Plan B, or it will kill you.") There were new, rigid rules set around training and our lifestyles as a whole - including our diets, spending time away from the squad, and participating in any activity that was not swim, bike, or run. I was told that this is what it takes to achieve success at the highest level. At the time, I was naive and inexperienced with elite sport, and I honestly believed this narrative. Wins and podiums were also at the forefront: even as a first-year pro, I was told that top 10s weren't good enough. For many reasons - including the fact that the person telling me these things was investing their own money in me - I did not feel like I had a choice or a say in any of this. And thus, I got sucked in.

Four years later, I found myself disgusted with not only how I was being treated, but with my own behavior. I was often praised for my commitment and was even held up as an example for other athletes on the team to follow - yet I had been pulled in a direction that was not true to myself. The environment had an air of superiority about it, and I had allowed myself to get pulled into the negative talk about others that was so commonplace. I had two IRONMAN 70.3 podiums to my name in 2021 (my first year racing long course) and even got my first pro win at White Lake in May 2022. This was more than I ever thought I would achieve in the sport, but I still felt like I was performing below expectations. I was bitter, angry, and miserable. I was jealous of anyone who looked like they were having fun with training. I was falling apart mentally and physically.

Eventually I realized that it was fully acceptable in this environment for mental and physical health to be destroyed if wins and podiums were attained along the way. I had been led down a dark path, and I had followed. But I was no longer okay with this.

I had to get out, and so I did. Just after White Lake, I dropped everything and moved home. Since then, every day has been a fight to save my health and my career.

But this story is not about me. I say all this to show just how damaging the "all in" mentality can be, when it is taken on by any athlete, coach, or squad environment as a whole. As Steve Magness observes:

"Going all-in makes us fragile. We have to succeed, instead of wanting to. People frame that as a positive for motivation, but it's actually a negative. It may boost motivation, but the wrong kind. It pushes us towards obsessive passion and fear-driven motivation. When we inevitably struggle, when we've gone all-in, desperation often takes hold. We are threatened: finances, status, and our self-worth are on the line. We get desperate, cheat, cut corners, and often, ultimately fail."

Personally, my self-worth got too tied up in my race results. I was driven by fear; because of this, I settled into a people pleasing role and strayed from my values. Moreover, I had a deep feeling that I was being used in whatever way was necessary to fuel the ego of someone else, and that this person was willing to hurt others in order to succeed.

Much of what Collin mentioned - the desperation when you are injured and sick, the intense pressure and expectations, the unhappiness with personal sacrifices, the isolation, the lack of fun in training, and ultimately the loss of love for the sport - I have experienced as well. I believe all athletes experience these feelings to some degree from time to time. Honestly, all coaches probably do as well. But you really start getting into deep water when you are "all in," and especially when "all in" morphs into "all or nothing" or "win at all costs" and leads to lapses in integrity.

Sadly, these ideas are very pervasive in triathlon - and in my opinion, they are damaging the culture of the sport. Since changing my environment, I've learned that I am far from the only athlete who has been pushed toward an "all in" approach and who has suffered negative consequences as a result. Not only do these concepts tear down individual athletes, but in my experiences, they often lead to more toxic squad environments, with rifts forming due to competition between athletes for emotional and financial resources given by those in positions of power.

Athletes deserve better. This sport is not about winning. Some people are driven by winning, yes, but this can't be everything. Physical and mental health should always, ALWAYS be at the forefront. Not race results. Athletes should never even get to the place where they feel the desperation that Collin did.

That being said, there are no excuses for Collin's decision - including mental health. Suggesting that mental health is a valid explanation for doping takes power away from those who have struggled and come out the other side by facing their struggles head on, with integrity - who have not taken the cowardly, easy way out, who have not cheated, and who have not intentionally hurt others along the way.

Everyone makes mistakes, and it's true that those who suffer from mental health issues (myself included) may unintentionally hurt others, especially when they are unaware of their trauma. However, Collin's decision was not a mistake. It was a conscious, calculated choice to do something he knew was wrong - and to harm others, and the sport as a whole. But the reasons he gave for this choice should serve as a cautionary tale.

If you find yourself in a dark place with regard to triathlon, I encourage you to reevaluate what is driving you in the sport. I urge you to take a deep look at your values and whether your environment is in line with these values. Surround yourself with people who support you as a whole person regardless of your status in the sport. Prioritize enjoyment and everything that led you to love sport in the first place. And please ask for help.