Luke Tyburski’s Extreme Journey and the Hidden Dangers of Exercise Addiction

Luke Tyburski, once a professional footballer, became known for his extreme endurance challenges. In his early 30s, he undertook pursuits that dwarfed the conventional marathon in intensity. He kicked off his journey with the notorious Marathon de Sables in the Sahara desert, tackled the world’s highest ultramarathon at Mount Everest’s base camp, faced dehydration on a 100km tropical run, and participated in the aptly named Double Brutal Extreme Triathlon in North Wales. Ultimately, he created a personal challenge, aiming to swim from Africa to Europe, cycle through Spain, and run to Monaco—covering 2,000km in just 12 days.

Financing his adventures through magazine articles and speaking engagements, Tyburski even made a documentary chronicling his efforts. His main goal was to push his limits and demonstrate the power of a strong mindset. Yet, beneath this exterior of triumph, he struggled with depression, stemming from a loss of identity after his football career which spanned Australia, the US, and Belgium before ending in the UK. “Training and racing offered an escape,” he explained. “But returning home brought the lows because I wasn’t confronting what I was fleeing from.”

To cope, Tyburski ramped up his training. If he had planned a four-hour bike ride with friends on Saturday and a two-hour run Sunday, he might sneak in an additional session Saturday afternoon. This led to debilitating insomnia, which he rationalized by running “midnight marathons,” along with binge eating between workouts to stretch the high he felt from exercising.

While it’s indeed possible to tackle large endurance feats in a healthy manner, Tyburski’s approach spiraled into self-destructive behavior. Signs of addiction began to manifest: secrecy, an insatiable need for more, and a tendency to overlook negative consequences. “Nobody suspected anything. My weight, performance, and demeanor remained unchanged. I was a very good actor,” he reflected.

Although exercise addiction is not formally recognized as a psychiatric disorder, the behaviors associated with it are real. Terms like “exercise addict” get thrown around casually, often likened to being a “chocoholic,” when people gush about their workout routines. However, research suggests that a small percentage—around 0.3-0.5% of the general population—may actually struggle with exercise dependence. Among serious athletes and regular exercisers, that figure climbs to 3-9%. Some experts argue that addiction frameworks are appropriate for understanding these behaviors.

“The brain doesn’t differentiate where it gets its dopamine or serotonin from,” says addictions therapist Kanny Sanchez, who supports clients at a treatment program. “There’s a need for an outside source to manage internal chaos.” Tyburski and others often displayed symptoms of obsession, where exercise took precedence over other aspects of life. Pushing through injuries and feeling withdrawal when unable to exercise became common. “Exercise is a great stress reliever,” Sanchez pointed out. “But if it’s your only coping mechanism, it can spiral into addiction.”

Micheál Costello, a 30-year-old PR account manager and triathlete, realized he was grappling with exercise addiction after being diagnosed with depression and atypical anorexia during the pandemic. As the world locked down and he moved back in with his family, his obsessive behaviors worsened. “If exercise addiction were formally diagnosed, I would have received that label,” he recalls.

Atypical anorexia manifests as food restriction without a medically underweight classification, often linked to excessive exercise. In fact, studies reveal that up to 48% of those with eating disorders exhibit signs of exercise addiction, stemming from body image issues or to manage uncomfortable emotions. “Many clients use exercise to numb unwanted feelings,” said Stacey Fensome, a sports psychologist who treats eating disorders. “It can override anxiety and produce an endorphin release.”

In Costello’s case, his unhealthy relationship with food and exercise manifested through extensive workouts. He clocked hours on an exercise bike, followed by bodyweight training and skipping, spiraling into a relentless routine. It wasn’t until he had suicidal thoughts that he sought help. Initially dismissed by his doctor as overly healthy, he ultimately received therapy and antidepressants, leading him to discover triathlons, which helped reshape his perspective on exercise.

“I wanted to repurpose my fitness from my eating disorder and shift my outlook,” he shared. “Completing my first Ironman in 2023 hooked me. Now, training for my fourth, I realize I can’t push my body like before if I want to race.”

Understanding the fine line between discipline and compulsion can be tricky for many endurance athletes. Screening tools like the Exercise Dependence Scale ask users how often they feel compelled to up their exercise intensity for desired outcomes—something that can seem normal in a training context.

Fensome explains that some compulsive behaviors, like difficulty resting or prioritizing workouts over daily activities, can be subtle red flags. “Wanting to stay healthy is admirable, but what’s behind that desire? Are you avoiding stillness because it’s distressing?” she questions.

Exercise often receives social validation that other addictions do not. Tyburski’s midnight marathons or Costello’s vigorous cycling might draw praise online, allowing for dysfunction to go unnoticed. Fensome recounted a client who was lauded for early training sessions, even as they struggled with overwhelming compulsion. “Stopping equated to a loss of identity for them,” she said.

Margo Steines, an author from Arizona, navigated exercise addiction alongside various other addictions and eating disorders. During her academic years, she devoted up to nine hours a day to workouts, running on a treadmill and attending multiple fitness classes. Despite numerous injuries, many complimented her physique, making it easy to mask her struggles. “It’s challenging to see dysfunction in a body that looks fit,” she reflected. Her experiences evoked personal and cultural pressures related to body image and trauma. Acknowledging her addiction came from the gentle observations of her partner, who could see the signs others missed.

Exercise addiction can yield consequences equivalent to other addiction types. Underfueling, coupled with excessive training, can lead to overtraining syndrome, with physical and mental symptoms. “You face chronic injuries, hormonal disruptions, and significant burnout,” cautioned Aaron McCulloch, a personal training director. “It can take a toll on your mental health too, creating a prison-like existence.”

Since giving birth in 2020, Steines battles myalgic encephalomyelitis, which limits her physical capability and has drastically changed her exercise habits. She finds it challenging to pinpoint the origin of her condition, suspecting it may link back to her past addiction. “I drift between being quite sedentary and then working out normally,” she notes. “Outwardly, it looks like I’ve recovered, but deep down, I didn’t address my issues. I essentially lost the addiction instead.”

As for Tyburski, he considers himself “unofficially retired” from extreme adventures due to accumulated injuries. “In 2026, I’m dealing with the consequences of my behaviors from 2013 and 2014,” he admits. “Learning to appreciate life’s smaller joys, like simply being healthy, has taken time. Will I swim between continents again? Probably not, but I’d relish just swimming in the ocean for a bit.” Today, he thrives as a speaker and coach, feeling more grounded.

Recovering from exercise addiction involves navigating a complex path. Unlike other addictions, simply eliminating exercise isn’t a viable solution. But there are options available, such as rehab facilities, supportive therapists, or peer groups to aid those grappling with these challenges. Identifying early signs is essential before a situation escalates.

Costello suggests treating mental health concerns like physical injuries. “If you notice something bothering your mind, talk about it,” he recommends. “Just mentioning anxiety over missing a workout can be surprisingly helpful.”