It’s been almost 6 months since the last Fast. After a decadent couple weeks of wine and pizza sprinkled with the occasional row on the erg, I woke up on Sunday morning with a foggy mind and swollen joints and general overall feeling of melancholy.
I’m pretty sure I’m head over heels in a serious bout of cabin fever (it ain’t just a river).
The first thought to filter through the haze: something needs to change. I need a reboot. Again.
Six months ago I got all technical for my first ever Bone Broth Fast. I bought an organic chicken and roasted it in a crockpot for over 24 hours. Towards the end, I added carrots and onions and celery and let it all stew. Then I strained out the organic veggies and the beautiful chicken that was sacrificed for my greater-health and put the broth in the fridge for drinking during the fast, and the veggies in a separate container for later, post-fast.
That was six months ago. This time, I started the Fast on Sunday with some black coffee and no plan. I just decided I would drink lots of water and tea and not eat. I was shooting this Fast from the hip. That was okay. Sunday day went by fine, I was in bed by 8 pm. It’s been a long winter in Vermont, being in bed by 8 pm seems natural; it’s still hibernation season. Plus, I was bored. It’s amazing how much time we spend focusing on food—what to eat, when to eat it, prepping it, cooking it, and the lovely eating of it… the food.
For broth this time around, some leftover store-bought in the fridge seems to be good enough—even if it does contain Monosodium Glutamate and Hydrolyzed Wheat Gluten, among other things. I figure I should be more concerned about the empty wine bottles in the recycling bin, than some MSG. So, I’ve been heating up a cup of the store-bought broth when I get home at night. Then, a long walk with the dog, two miles or so. Then, bed. Going to sleep is always an effective way to stop from binging.
It’s now Tuesday, wait, Wednesday? Wednesday. My mind is clear, my skin soft, but I’m ready to gnaw the arm off a passerby. I. Am. Hungry. Seltzer helps—I’m convinced the bubbles have the effect of tricking the stomach into thinking it’s actual food. The cornucopia of herbal teas throughout the workday help too.
Last time on a Fast, I made it all the way through to Day 5. This time it’s all I can do but to stop at the local pub on the way home from work and order a salad and a beer. A salad, one measly salad, that’s all I want. I’ve officially reached the bargaining stage. What’s next? Seems it’s depression and then finally, acceptance! Voila!
I think it’s time to hop on the erg and eeck out a 2K and see how I feel after. Some of the literature on keto fasting/eating say that your stamina and fat loss increase exponentially once you dial in the keto-way. I’d have to commit to this for much more than a Fast, but decide to incorporate it as a way of eating in order to see those kinds of results. I’m just not sure I have the stash of commitment necessary, yet. So, for now, the Fast is a welcome reboot. Gnawing on strangers aside.