Is It Ever OK to Talk About Weight in Climbing?

The climbing community has made positive strides against eating disorders and body shaming. But for some climbers, any discussion of weight now feels taboo. One doctor explores this tension.

Share

Save

(Photo: Salomé Aubert)

I’m in the gym on a Saturday morning. I’m having a frustrating session where gravity seems awfully high. Later over coffee, my training partner and I are debriefing the session. I say, “I’ve been thinking of losing a few pounds.” Immediately, I feel a sense of guilt for bringing up this topic. “Absolutely not,” they reply. “You’re great just as you are.”

That’s what a friend is meant to say, right? Her default answer was rooted in body positivity, aimed at shoring up any insecurity or body dysmorphia I might have. Why, then, did it feel so dismissive?

Around the same time, I joined an online climbing forum. One of the cited norms caught my attention: “No body talk.” No discussing other people’s bodies, or your own. On the surface, this might seem a progressive safeguard against triggering people with eating disorders. However, something about the rule made me uneasy. It gave me the sense that talking about bodies at all was inherently problematic, as though the subject itself were shameful.

This made me think: What would be my preferred answer to my question following the gym session that morning?

Our Picks

After Facing Criticism, IFSC Introduces Unprecedented Policy to Combat Eating Disorders 

How Climbing Helped Me Recover From My Eating Disorder

The Light Documentary Raises an Important Conversation About Eating Disorders in Climbing

Climbing For Every Body

Here are some examples of responses that would have been more helpful for me.

• “Interesting thought. How’d you think that might influence the power you’ve been trying to build?”
• “I don’t think that’s needed from a health perspective, but I get that weight can be a relevant training factor.”
• Or even just, “Tell me more about that.”

These are not the right answers for everyone, but I argue that body-related talk is not inherently bad, and it can be sensitive, constructive, and relevant.

I spent February in Idaho, enjoying a month in the snow—winter hiking, and skiing of all kinds, but not climbing. A few weeks in, I noticed I was about five pounds lighter. Seeing the number on the scale and knowing I wasn’t actively climbing at the time, I became concerned about losing muscle. I talked to a friend about it, and we had a thoughtful, healthy conversation about my weight, body composition, and nutrition. We also came up with strategies that would allow me to return home to Boston feeling strong. They even recommended a new brand of protein shake, which is now my favorite. It was a reminder that talking about these things can be empowering. These types of conversations can focus on performance and well-being, rather than judgment.

It’s important to be thoughtful about others’ histories with body image and remember that even a close friend might not have shared everything—but it’s also important to create a culture of listening and receptivity to ideas.

As a physician, I’m trained to talk about sensitive subjects like weight carefully. I also know how often silence around the topic can backfire. Instead of letting body talk become taboo, the community should cultivate spaces for sensitive, consent-based conversations where health, performance, and personal choice can be discussed without shame.

A sport wracked by eating disorders

Climbing has problems with body image and disordered eating. A 2020 survey study involving an international sample of 498 adult sport climbers reported an overall 8.6% prevalence of disordered eating. Among female climbers, prevalence was 16.5%, and among elite female climbers, it surged to 42.9%.

Recently, climbers have also shined a spotlight on these issues, making hard-won progress at fighting harmful attitudes. In 2020, Sasha DiGiulian bravely spoke out about body shaming and bullying, which had real consequences for the perpetrator, including losing sponsors. Beth Rodden has courageously written about how her long-term struggle with disordered eating undermined her well-being, despite short-term performance gains. And in 2024, after two doctors on the International Federation of Sport Climbing Medical Commission resigned and top athletes including Janja Garnbret spoke out, the IFSC became the first international sporting body to introduce regulations addressing Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport (REDs).

These were important, overdue changes. However, social change can bring about unintended consequences, even when the overall impact is positive. For example, mandatory seatbelt laws in the 1960s successfully reduced the risk of death if an accident occurred; however, some studies observed that drivers, feeling safer, then began to take more risks (known as the “Peltzman Effect”).

Has an unintended consequence of body positivity within climbing become a reluctance to talk about our bodies at all, and a sense that doing so is shameful? Has intentional management of weight become taboo, even when approached in a healthy, evidence-based way?

We often use the phrase “losing weight” to refer specifically to reducing body fat while preserving or even increasing muscle mass. But this is more accurately called changing your body composition. It involves altering the relative proportions of different tissue types in your body.  Body composition can change even if your overall weight stays the same, or it can shift alongside changes in weight.

Fixing imprecise footwork, improving mental game, and working on pacing issues can bring more immediate results to one’s climbing than simply increasing one’s strength-to-weight ratio. Still, it is also true that an improvement of body composition can be helpful for climbing performance. That’s why it can feel frustrating—even gatekeeping—when already lean climbers dismiss weight talk entirely or insist “it doesn’t matter.” But here’s the important distinction: the fact that body composition matters does not mean it should be the focus for every climber, or that “losing weight” is automatically the best path forward.

There is also a difference between someone rapidly dieting in the pursuit of performance at all costs and someone changing their body composition in a gradual and responsible way. We shouldn’t treat the two as the same, because the real danger lies in confusing them. Nutritionist Tom Herbert (@usefulcoach) says on Instagram: “The act of paying closer attention to what you eat: source, quality, composition, macro/micro nutrient and energy values, is not disordered behavior, any more than paying closer attention to your training method … is disordered behavior … can become disordered behavior when used in a context that leads to poor physical, mental and social health. The desire to change your body is not disordered behavior.”

Is talking about weight taboo?

When I searched through threads on Mountain Project, Reddit, and the UK Climbing Forum, contributors warned that “Losing weight to gain climbing performance is one of the most short sighted ways to progress in climbing” and “almost every mid-level climber … should not focus on losing weight to climb better.” Others thought differently: “People will tell you to not worry about your weight because it leads to unhealthy habits of trying to lose it. This is certainly a problem in climbing and can’t be understated. It’s almost taboo to talk about it in some places …. but to act like it has no effect on climbing performance is wrong.” The conversation is complex and still evolving.

The desire to protect by avoiding a topic is not unique to climbing. We can borrow ideas from how medicine approaches sensitive conversations about weight, where historically, stigmas have led providers to avoid discussing weight altogether, even when it’s relevant to a patient’s health. Clinical guidelines now encourage moving beyond silence. Organizations like Obesity Canada advocate for person-first, non-stigmatizing language and frameworks such as the “5As,” where clinicians initiate conversations by asking patients if they are comfortable discussing their weight.

The lesson is clear: Making a subject taboo doesn’t eliminate harm. It is better to work on our abilities to have sensitive conversations about difficult topics than to avoid them. Like many things, this is easier said than done. So, how can everyday climbers approach this topic thoughtfully?

How climbers can talk about weight

Working with a professional like a dietician when navigating these topics is ideal, but many people face barriers to access. For example, insurance coverage is often limited unless there is an existing medical diagnosis.

A more achievable goal could be a renewed focus on the importance of consent for conversations that could be triggering. It’s not that these conversations need to be off the table, but more that they need to be explicitly signposted upfront. I’ve taken to asking friends beforehand if they’re comfortable entering this space. I might say: “Hey, I know many people don’t like talking about this, but I have thoughts about my body composition. Are you comfortable chatting about this?”

I’d like us to approach the topic with openness. Let’s understand that some climbers may choose to adjust their body composition for performance, while others may not—and that respecting each person’s choice is part of being truly body-positive.

Rather than “No body talk” as a standard, maybe we need to be more precise. Perhaps “No unsolicited comments about other people’s bodies” is a healthier guideline. Or the admittedly less pithy, “We know weight management is a tricky topic, but it is relevant for some, so if you want to talk about it, feel free, but please create a side channel.”

It’s more important now than ever to combat false information. Simple messaging, while catchy, can unintentionally reinforce falsehoods. The climbing community should discourage blanket advice such as “Losing weight for climbing is always a bad idea” and “Talking about bodies is never OK.” Instead, let’s cultivate safe spaces for nuanced discussions.

Avoidance under the guise of protection may feel safer, but it risks creating an environment where a generation of climbers grow up believing that it’s shameful to talk about bodies. Or one where people with a positive body image, who want to manage their weight in a healthy way, must do so undercover—a new type of body shaming.

Climbing thrives on problem-solving—on testing solutions and adapting strategies. Let’s extend this mindset to guide conversations about bodies that both protect and empower, so that next time someone like me says, “I’ve been thinking of losing a few pounds,” we don’t shut the conversation down, but meet it with curiosity and care.