Day 2 got more difficult as the day wore on.
Weakness and dehydration (symptom: heart pounding) set in by evening.
Drinking more water, and alternating glasses with plain and slightly salted water, helped considerably.
Went to bed at 9 pm feeling very fatigued.
Slept well but not exactly soundly. Don’t recall any dreams.
I have long hair. It’s about down to my bra line in the back. I comb it every morning before putting it in some variation of a pony tail. There’s not been a day when I have noticed some hair fall. I’m told this is entirely normal. The hair experts say that we lose about 100 strands of hair a day. I usually fall a little short of the upper range of that. But this morning I lost not a single hair. Not a single strand.
The 3rd and 4th days are going to be the worst. It’s like the second stage of labor, necessary but wildly unpleasant. The point of this fasting exercise is to get to the point, Day 4, when the old and damaged cells begin to be shed and all the cells in the body begin to rejuvenate. I’ll make it, I expect. It won’t be fun, it will just be worth it.
I share these posts because anyone who may want to undertake a 5 day fast might be interested in knowing what it was like for at least one attentive, clued-in person. Don’t even think about doing a fast of this length without the guidance of a healthcare provider who can help walk you through it and be “on call” in case you run into difficulties that you can’t seem to manage.
Water is the key. And rest. Take it slowly, very slowly.
I’m headed to the midpoint of this journey. I should arrive at Day 2.5 in just a few hours. Can’t wait to say “Hello” and “Good-bye” to that important milestone as I make my way to my goal.
As a final note, let me explain that the “fasting flu”, which has now swallowed me whole and is thrashing me about, is the result of the body entirely exhausting every trace of glucose – that stored in the liver and the smaller amount stored in muscle – and being forced to make the transition to burning fat. It begins to burn the fat (in thighs, stomach, and hips) that it has accumulated and stored as back-up fuel for emergencies such as a fast or an illness that precludes eating. The transition is a battlefield in which every cell in the body shows up and complains bitterly about the sudden change away from its sweet sugar rush, throws their garbage into the streets, and creates a general riot of protest. This will pass once all X billion cells get used to the new regime and are once again fed, this time a ketogenic, healthy, balanced diet devoid of sugars, bread, pasta, rice and the like.
The complexity theorists refer to this kind of thing as “creative destruction”. Nice. I’m now caught in the middle of it and am looking forward to the rainbow.