Fasting: End

It was an interesting week.

Class on Tuesday was a bad idea. Trying to sleep after that was impossible. My entire chest pounded with my heart all night. My body had nothing with which to repair the damaged muscle; so it just ached. And, as I tossed and turned, my stomach felt like it was ulcering on whatever side was down. But, with any agony, our mental resistance to it makes it worse. I couldn't or didn't want to change the situation, and, in truth, this was what I set out to experience, which brought a sense of joy into it.... believe it or not. I'm not going to pretend that it helped me sleep, but accepting the discomfort alleviates the anguish of it. It reminded me of that which was unaffected.

I "woke up" on Wednesday, and the discomfort left as I started moving around. By this point in the week, getting out bed every morning requires some deep breathing first. I wondered how I could possibly recover from Tuesday's workout without some calories. But, while the more extreme exhaustion lasted through most of Wednesday, by Thursday I was feeling... almost good; so much so that I considered going to class again.... I didn't. Yet, with the ease with which I made it though Friday, I kinda wished I had gone just so I could say I really suffered in the last few days. The goal was, after all, to explore a limitation. Instead, I coped pretty well, and it amazed me.

Hunger, it turns out, feels more like exhaustion and thirst. In fact, I may confuse being hungry and being thirsty, eating when I'm actually just in need of some water. I'm not sure.

Also, Despite poorly sleeping and being exhausted, part of me knew that I still had something in reserve. If the shit hit the fan, I'd still be able to pull it all together and do what I needed to, an experience I had through most of class... with each pause, the energy would collapse back into me, and then just be there again when I needed it.

It was amazing to witness resilience I didn't know I had, and I'm grateful for the experience.