After 39 hours of fasting, I woke up at 7:00 a.m. feeling surprisingly normal. Not hungry. Not foggy. Just…good. Morning weight: 148. Down seven pounds since Sunday. So I kept going.
Fifty-one hours in, after a full day at the office, I decided to end the fast. Given the hour and wanting to hit the gym without eating after 6:30 p.m., I grabbed a salad with beans and chicken at Chipotle on the way.
No tortilla chips this time. That’s a big deal for me.
Months ago, a continuous glucose monitor showed me something I didn’t want to believe. It turns out tortilla chips spike my blood sugar more than ice cream. I would’ve never guessed it. More than ice cream.
Knowing it was one thing. Living it took a little longer. So skipping the chips wasn’t just discipline. It was data.
After dinner, I squeezed in a light workout followed by ten minutes in the sauna. I felt a little hungry afterward but stuck to my 6:30 p.m. cutoff and ended the night with a decaf Bullet.
Around 10:00 p.m., I spotted an open bag of tortilla chips sitting on the counter. The kind of thing that would’ve had me two handfuls deep before I even registered reaching for it.
I looked at it. Really looked. Then I just walked on by.
Here’s what surprised me: while fasting, I can see my trigger foods with complete clarity. The cravings just aren’t there.
No willpower required because there’s nothing to resist.
Maybe I stop thinking about fasting as a daytime discipline and start thinking about it as a nighttime shield.
Hmm.
One data point isn’t a conclusion. Neither is two. But 151 to 148 is a direction I can live with.
To be continued.