Fit for extremes: Why 75 Hard and The Biggest Loser might have more in common than you think.

There’s something hypnotic about watching people transform before your eyes.

A jawline appears. A waist reclaims its shape. The before and after pictures.

This is the reality TV fitness formula. And no show mastered it quite like The Biggest Loser.

On paper, it was a spectacle about health — fat turned into muscle, self-loathing into self-discipline.

But as time went on, cracks started to show. 

The cracks were more than highlighted in the recent Netflix series Fit for TV: The Reality of The Biggest Loser.

Contestants who lost massive amounts of weight often gained it back. The show’s “bootcamp” model was unsustainable, punishing, and in many ways, exploitative. 

The glamour was edited in. The damage, however, was very real.

Years later, 75 Hard has found viral fame for striking a different chord, one that’s less glossy but no less intense. 

Launched by entrepreneur Andy Frisella, the challenge asks participants to complete two 45-minute workouts per day (one outdoors), stick to a strict diet, drink 3.78 litres of water daily, read 10 pages of a nonfiction book, and take daily progress photos — for 75 days straight, no exceptions. Miss a single task, and you're back to day one.

Both formats seem wildly different: one a prime-time production, the other a self-run bootcamp for the Instagram age. 

But beneath the surface, they share a philosophy: discipline equals transformation. And both ask participants to hinge their worth — at least temporarily — on visible, measurable change.

And it works. Until it doesn’t.

What makes these frameworks powerful is also what makes them problematic. They offer structure, clarity, and a daily purpose. But they also feed into a kind of extremism: an all-or-nothing mentality that has no tolerance for life’s inevitable chaos.

Birthday cake, holidays, fatigue, and real-world obligations — none of that fits the plan.

Just ask former Olympic swimmer Geoff Huegill, once dubbed "the comeback king" after shedding 45kg post-retirement to return to elite competition.

At his peak, he was celebrated as an icon of discipline. 

But after retiring again, he openly spoke about weight fluctuations and the challenges of adjusting to life outside of training. Huegill’s story reflects what many former athletes experience: once the strict routines are gone, the body — and mind — can spiral.

It’s the same principle that haunts former contestants of The Biggest Loser. In 2016, a National Institutes of Health (NIH) study followed several participants and found that, even years later, their metabolisms had slowed dramatically. Their bodies were still fighting to regain the weight. 

The more extreme the method, the harder it seems to be to maintain the result.

75 Hard, for all its self-determination, isn’t immune to this cycle.

The internet is full of “after the after photo” stories where people who completed the challenge saw impressive results, then slowly unravelled once they returned to a less rigid routine.

The very thing that made them feel powerful becomes a source of guilt once it’s gone.

And guilt sells. Just like aspiration sells.

That’s why 75 Hard thrives on TikTok and Instagram; transformation culture is evergreen content. 

But sustainability? That’s a tougher sell.

In a world that constantly demands more…more productivity, more aesthetic, more “wellness”, it’s not just fitness where we swing to extremes. 

We’ve seen it in hustle culture, side hustle mania, and even mindfulness apps that gamify relaxation. The pendulum swings hard in both directions.

Both The Biggest Loser and 75 Hard are rooted in good intentions.

They get people moving, spark new habits, and prove what’s possible with focus. But the problem arises when these challenges are treated as lifestyles, not just catalysts.

And let’s not forget the privilege embedded in even attempting these challenges: access to gyms, time to train, the mental space to commit. Traditional fitness models often ignore class, chronic illness, and caregiving responsibilities, painting discipline as a choice when it's often a luxury.

None of this is to say challenges are bad.

In fact, they can be transformative. They shake us out of stagnation and provide a sense of control in a messy world.

But chasing extremes, especially ones that hinge on aesthetics or arbitrary streaks, can leave us disoriented once the dust settles.

As Dr. Traci Mann, health psychologist and author of Secrets From the Eating Lab, puts it: “The body is wired to resist weight loss. The more extreme the change, the harder it fights back.” 

Challenges that ignore this reality do so at a cost.

So what’s the takeaway?

Maybe transformation isn’t about chasing a peak, but learning to build a plateau we can live on. One that flexes. One that forgives. One that doesn’t demand a progress photo to prove its worth.

Because discipline can change your life, but so can self-compassion.

And only one of those is sustainable.

M x