If you missed the first post about my experimentation with Intermittent Fasting, read about it here. The following will make a lot more sense after you read that. 

I was told from the start that the first few days would be the hardest. I was also lied to.

Don’t get me wrong, the first few days of intermittent fasting are hard. Stretching your body to fasting 16 hours each day rather than the normal 10-12 hours overnight takes some getting used to. But what I didn’t fully understand at the time was the “new-ness” factor.

Think of it like a honey-moon phase of dieting. The excitement of trying something new and different and the fresh resolve to stick to it was enough in itself to get through that first week. But when the excitement fades and life settles down, it’s just you and your body sitting at your work desk while the bosses bring in breakfast for the whole team. And you can’t eat until noon.

You should have seen the spread. By the time I thought to take a picture, the piles of food had been picked to pieces by the vultures I call co-workers. I mean that in the most admirable way possible, if you can believe it – the bosses brought in Biscuitville. I’d never eaten at Biscuitville before, so I couldn’t quite comprehend the behavior of this pack of wild hyenas aggressively sniping at the piles of biscuits and tater tots and fruit parfaits and honey buns.

I stayed in my office as long as I could. The table – where all the food was arrogantly displayed – sits directly in my line of sight. The sight was hard enough to avoid. But then, the smell. That savory aroma of warm biscuits filled with ham or chicken or bacon, eggs, and cheese found its way into my office, wrapping me in a “Southern Fresh” blanket. I glanced at my clock and saw a devastating number. 8:30AM.

I wasn’t going to make it.

But I had to make it! It was only the start of week two. How could I give in so easily? How could I live with myself knowing I folded at the first sign of any real temptation? Nay. I’m stronger than that. I steeled my resolved, making a vow to myself (and to my buds on slack) that I was going to make it to noon.

But…I mean…

That wasn’t going to stop me from squirreling away a biscuit in my desk drawer until lunch. And why should it? I’m still in time-restriction mode with this whole IF thing. The food restrictions come later once I plateau.

Long story medium, I made it to noon. That biscuit was gone by 12:00:25 PM. Trust that.

In all reality, I’ve really enjoyed intermittent fasting. It’s much easier for me to restrict the times I eat rather than the foods I eat, although that part will likely need to happen at some point as well. Again, I already have a pretty healthy diet (Biscuitville notwithstanding), so there’s not much room for improvement.

Either way, I’ve lost a few pounds and feel better physically, in general. It seems my recovery period after a week of really difficult workouts is a bit faster. Objectively, the “feeling better” may be a placebo, but hey, as long as it works, I’ll take it.

One unintended consequence of this little trial is that my buddy Matt – who you may remember as the winner of The Muggo Writing Contest(!!!) – sent me a note saying that he too had been thinking about trying IF, and now I get texts from him throughout the week asking if I’m sticking to it. If you’re going to try something new and a little difficult, it’s always nice to have someone else out there going through it with you. Accountability, or whatever.

So far, so good. I’ll be interested to see what the next week is like. Will the temptations be easier to fight off? Will my weight continue on its downward trajectory? Will I start to plateau? Will Todd and his big, goofy face bring donuts again?

I’ll let you know.