Florence Sargent: Fueling the Fight Against RED-S

I was born in the UK but moved abroad at a young age — first to Dubai, then later to Spain. Growing up in these environments, sport became part of everyday life, and training in the heat became the norm. I started out as a swimmer, competing nationally by the age of 13 in a system where you simply showed up, swam endless laps, and left. There wasn’t much emphasis on  technique or support — the focus was on meeting a set time, and so everyone followed the same routine. 

Later, I discovered the running scene in Spain and quickly fell in love with it. Local  races gave me an immediate sense of enjoyment and progress. I moved into track  and field, competing at regional and national levels for Spain, placing 7^th in the  country and receiving invitations to represent my region in the School Cup Games.  Despite challenges such as limited track facilities living in a rural area and feeling like  an outsider as an English girl in a Spanish team with regular comments that “I should  return back to my country”, running was something pure and joyful. It gave me space  to grow and feel free. 

Looking back, I see more clearly the athletic culture I grew up in. There were no conversations about periods or how female physiology might affect performance. Everyone trained the same way — girls were expected to keep up with the boys, and we all followed the same programs. It was often presumed I would be good at cross country or marathon running because of the infamous Paula Radcliffe. You were praised for how many miles you could run, not how well you understood or respected your body. That mindset shaped how I viewed toughness and discipline, and I carried that with me long after I left.

As I moved further up the rankings, the pressure increased. Coaches started questioning my mental toughness and told me I didn’t have the right body type to succeed in endurance sports. I was told I needed thinner ankles, that I wasn’t training enough, even though I was already pushing myself far beyond healthy limits for a growing teen. I began believing that mental resilience meant constantly doing more — adding sessions, increasing mileage — but I couldn’t understand why my body felt so heavy and why my love for the sport was fading.

After returning to the UK during Covid, I began training in rural Cornwall with a local club, hoping  to find a supportive environment. What I experienced was far from that.

The coaching culture was toxic, and the comparisons between athletes were relentless.

My coach had a favourite athlete — a girl who had placed at English Nationals when she was 13 — and every training  session we were compared to her. Her times were the end goal. I ran endless miles alone in the dark during lockdown in a desperate attempt to be noticed in the same way by my coach.  I was convinced that more was better. 

When lockdown lifted, I came back physically faster and stronger on paper, but I was  underweight and hadn’t had a period in months. At the time, I didn’t see it as an  issue and it was never brought up or discussed in training. My personal bests were  improving, and that was all that seemed to matter. Eventually, the coach began inviting me to private training sessions with his  star athlete, and for a brief moment, I felt like I belonged. But I also noticed how our body types were constantly compared, and  how praise was tied to appearance. He would talk about how she had the ‘lean frame’ perfect for 1500m and endurance running — so I felt I had to match that ideal. 

That summer, after running a 4:45 1500m and attracting interest  from Division 1 schools in the US, I tore my Achilles during a session. The injury was painful, but the isolation afterwards was  worse. I was dropped from the team, removed from the group chat, and forgotten. Not a single message came from the coach  or my teammates for nine months. It was like I’d never existed. At the time, I attributed it to bad luck.

It wasn’t until I started interning with Beyond The Scale two years later that I first  came across the term RED-S — Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport. The symptoms  matched everything I had experienced: missed periods, constant fatigue, low moods, recurring injuries. Suddenly it all made sense. 

Following my first Achilles injury, I shifted into endurance triathlon and cycling, where I found similar patterns. I trained hard and constantly tried to keep up with the male athletes. I couldn’t understand why they handled sessions with such ease while I struggled. Frustrated by my own body, I wished I could just train the same way they did, without hormonal disruptions or fatigue. I followed male-based training plans and ignored my physiology, and ended up tearing my Achilles again, followed by a meniscus injury.

My confidence plummeted. But I began to see this wasn’t just my story. I saw the same patterns around me — especially among women, but also men — who didn’t have clear warning signs like amenorrhea (menstrual loss). The pressure to stay lean, fast, and in control was affecting everyone. The culture of under-fuelling was deeply embedded and often invisible. 

That’s when RED-Scue was born. I wanted to create something simple and practical — something that supported fueling without feeling clinical or overwhelming. I struggled to find anything I trusted. Many products had unrecognizable ingredients, or were designed for elite athletes without considering the everyday pressures of those navigating RED-S. As a perfectionist, I overanalyzed every label and found nothing quite right. 

So I created RED-Scue — a 7-pack of energy restoration bites, one  for each day of the week. The concept was simple: take the stress  out of fueling and offer something consistent, easy, and nourishing. Through funding from the University of Exeter and business support from SETsquared, the idea grew from a kitchen experiment into a fully developed product.

Since then, RED-Scue has won the SETSquared 2025 Product Innovation Award. We have been supported by Pippa Wolven, founder of Project RED-S, and welcomed into founder communities  like Women Who Build, LaunchBreak, and the Fearless Women’s  Sports Collective. RED-Scue is now stocked in The Bike  Sanctuary in Exeter, and it’s used not just as fuel, but as a tool to  raise awareness around RED-S and spark conversations in the wider sporting community. 

We’ve reached over 70,000 people on Instagram, delivered talks and workshops across UK sports clubs and high schools in Virginia, USA, and recently joined forces with Breaking Barriers to further spread awareness through this blog! Because RED-S isn’t just a physical issue — it’s psychological and systemic. And that’s why we need to initiate the conversations because receiving an answer to my injuries brought me so much clarity, power, and knowledge. 

If any part of Florence’s story resonates with you, we’d love for you to be part of this journey. Sign up for the RED-Scue mailing list on our Shopify store to receive 10% off your first order.