Sometimes knowing when to change course is where real growth begins.
My last water fast did not go exactly as planned. By day two, I was sick as a dog with aches, pains, fever, chills, and was now earning frequent-flier miles on my toilet.
I was very excited about my upcoming three-day water fast. It was a goal I'd set at the beginning of the year, and my previous fasts had been leading up to this one.
Three days was my personal milestone, partly motivated by the potential cellular repair and metabolic benefits associated with prolonged fasting, with no religious significance or connection to Jane's Addiction.
My previous fast was for two days and ended up being surprisingly easy, especially considering I'd had a couple of cocktails the night before.
Oh well, the intention was there, and I believe we get points for effort. Or is it the thought that counts?
The first day of the water fast was relatively uneventful.
Then day two rolled around, and I developed strong flu-like symptoms. Initially, I wasn't overly concerned. I had some light activities planned to keep me occupied, but I decided to just chill at home.
Well, things didn't improve. Amanda suggested some lemon balm herbal tea to ease my stomach, which sounded good. Unfortunately, it sat in my stomach for about two hours before it all got purged.
At this stage, I was feeling rough. I don't usually get sick, and I do like to consider myself somewhat resilient.
That time I got COVID, I only stopped working halfway through Thursday and was back working and feeling mostly fine by Monday. I definitely could have milked that one a little longer, but apparently I had more important things to do.
At about 3 p.m. on Saturday, I decided to end the fast early. Not being able to hold down fluids was the deciding factor.
I'd already lost about five pounds that day alone, but certainly not in a healthy or sustainable way.
I started sipping electrolytes, ate a few slices of banana, and tried to sleep a little. It was a long night, and I didn't sleep well as my body felt sore, restless, and uncomfortable.
I woke the next day feeling considerably better, perhaps 80%.
I continued eating lightly and hydrating as much as possible while I recovered. We made chicken mole with rice for dinner, and I happily ate a medium-sized portion.
By Monday, I was more than 90% better and back working away.
I'm not sure why I got so sick this time. My previous three fasts this year had gone as expected, without much excitement.
I suspect I'd either picked up a bug somewhere or my body was reacting poorly to the fast for some reason.
I've always considered resilience one of my strengths. I'm reasonably good at pushing through discomfort, but I'm learning there's a fine line between persistence and stubbornness.
No amount of preparation or previous success guarantees the outcome. Life has a habit of throwing curveballs, often when we're feeling most confident.
Sometimes the smartest decision isn't to push harder but to recognize when circumstances have changed, adjust the strategy, and live to fast another day.
There's no shame in a strategic retreat, particularly when the longer-term goal remains intact. Sometimes, that's what ultimately leads to growth.
I'm planning another fast in early January 2027, and you're welcome to join me.
Whether you're curious about fasting or considering your first attempt, I'd be happy to share what I've learned, including when it's wiser not to fast.
