Why can’t I follow Peter Attia anymore?

For years, Peter Attia’s voice accompanied my long runs. Mile after mile, I listened as he broke down VO₂ max, metabolic health, fasting protocols, and the science of longevity. 

I read and re-read Outlive. I adjusted my training plans, my diet, and even my sleep habits based on his insights. As a runner and health enthusiast, I didn’t just follow his work — I trusted it. I recommended him to friends. I quoted him in conversations about prevention and performance. His measured tone and data-driven approach felt like an antidote to internet noise.

That trust is gone.

Recent revelations about Attia’s past communications and meetings with Jeffrey Epstein have forced me to confront a painful and deeply personal reckoning. It’s not that Attia has been accused of committing crimes. It’s that he chose to associate, repeatedly and voluntarily, with a man whose exploitation of young girls was already public knowledge.

Attia has acknowledged exchanging emails and meeting with Epstein several times. He has stated he was not involved in criminal activity and did not witness abuse. 

But legality is not the same as morality. As someone who identifies as both a feminist and a human-rights advocate, I cannot overlook the ethical failure embedded in those choices. When you knowingly spend time with a convicted sex offender whose victims were minors, you are making a statement — even if you don’t intend to.

Epstein’s 2008 conviction for soliciting a minor was not obscure. It was widely reported and widely discussed. The suffering of his victims was not hypothetical. It was real, documented, and ongoing. 

To continue cultivating a relationship with such a person after that conviction reflects, at best, a stunning lack of judgment. At worst, it signals comfort in proximity to power and wealth, even when that power is inseparable from exploitation.

What unsettles me most is not simply that Attia met with Epstein. It’s the tone described in reported communications — casual, even flippant. That tone suggests not discomfort, not moral wrestling, but normalization. And normalization is how systems of abuse survive. When influential, respected men treat a known predator as a fascinating contact rather than a moral line not to be crossed, it reinforces the idea that access and curiosity outweigh the dignity of victims.

As athletes, we understand discipline and boundaries. We understand that integrity matters when no one is watching. We don’t cut corners because a shortcut might improve our time. We don’t justify questionable decisions because they benefit us professionally. The foundation of training is consistency and honesty — with ourselves and with others.

Public figures in the health and longevity trade rely on credibility. They ask us to trust their judgment about how to live longer, stronger, better lives. But character matters. The pursuit of health cannot be separated from respect for human dignity. You cannot meaningfully advocate for well-being while minimizing or overlooking association with someone who harmed vulnerable girls.

I once believed Attia represented rigorous thinking and principled self-examination. Now, I see a blind spot so large it overshadows his expertise. Perhaps he regrets those choices. Perhaps he has learned from them. But trust, once fractured at this level, does not easily regenerate.

On long runs, there comes a point when you must decide whether to push through discomfort or stop because something deeper is wrong. This feels like the latter.

I can still value science. I can still pursue longevity. But I will no longer hang on the words of someone whose moral compass, at a critical moment, pointed toward access instead of accountability.