We’ve been married almost 20 years and have
been through many, many trials, but I can easily and honestly say that the past
week has been one of the hardest to endure.
Why? Two words: Juice fast.
It was my idea. I’d been reading Rich Roll’s
inspiring book Finding Ultra and listening to his super-cool, super-smooth
podcasts, so when Shane mentioned he’d like to go on a bit of a health kick
before the festive season and shift a few kilos, I was excited.
I enthusiastically related how Rich Roll
felt amazing after a seven day juice fast following years of neglecting his
health, alcoholism and a self-described cheeseburger addiction. In fact he had
so much energy he ran up a mountain after years of not exercising. Doesn’t that
sound compelling? Don’t juice fasts sound great? Shall we do one? Wanna? Wanna?
Hey? Hey?
Well. I don’t know what kind of veggies
they’re growing in America, but I couldn’t even lift my head to LOOK at a
mountain, let alone ascend it. Running? Not. A. Chance.
It started well enough. A trip to the fruit
and veg store loading a box of pineapple, bunches of kale and 90, yes 90,
apples into my trolley of goodness was fun in a virtuous kind of way. I was
happy. I was enthused. I was eager to begin.
Time to be honest here. I expected it to be
a walk in the park for me. A lifelong vegetarian and two-year vegan I envisioned
glowing with health, energy and good vibes. I thought it would be harder for
Shane, a tradie who has sausage rolls and Coke for breakfast.
Not so much.
The first three days were a write-off. Do
not plan anything for those days. I didn’t have the headaches other people describe
as fortunately I’d given caffeine the flick a few months previously, but I walked
around in a haze of dizziness, hunger and misery. The juices were delicious but
my body was not happy. I just kept telling myself that by day four I would, apparently, feel better. That’s what
the online groups say - by day four my body would have detoxed and I would be
bursting with good health and ready to run up a mountain.
Um, no.
Day four I was cranky, day five I was a
bitch and day six I was weak and emotional. Did I mention I went out for lunch
with friends that day? They had curry (dahl – my favourite) and I had a
particularly grassy juice. Bite me watercress.
To add additional pain, I only lost 1.9
kilos. That sounded pretty good until I stood next to Shane on the scale. He lost
six kilos in six days. I’m not kidding. I started calling him The Biggest Loser
and I kind of meant it in a mean way, such was my mood. Oh, did I mention that
he was bristling with the rude good health I had envisioned? Yes, not only did
he joyfully prep most of the juices as by 5pm I was wiped out for the day, he
whistled while he did it. He actually whistled. He bounced out of bed. He
played basketball! He had one bad day, but other than that, he was the Rich
Roll. Where’s his mountain?
So what have I learned?
It’s not for me. A friend told me she doesn’t
think juice fasts are for everyone and I think she’s right.
I’m writing this on day seven today and
sods law I’m going to a cocktail party tonight. Everyone sipping lovely drinks
while I have water and herbal juice…
BUT TOMORROW! Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya
tomorrow. I’m craving a baked potato, guacamole, Zambreros, butter beans, tofu
and noodles. I can see that 1.9 kilos coming straight back at me. But y’know
what? I don’t care.
All I care about is carbs right now.
Lovely, delicious, energy-giving carbs.
I’d take a photo of my juice (coz it’s
social media and I realise photos are important) but I don’t have the energy.
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