Our deployments are frequent but short: eight weeks, a few times a year. Two months is the perfect amount of time to experiment with something new, especially if it can lead to a positive habit.
Last time, I was out for twice as long, and I didn’t shave the entire time. It was a psychological struggle from start to finish, and I was relieved to finally get rid of my body hair when I got home. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. I tried it. It wasn’t for me.
This time: intermittent fasting. It was a lot easier. (???)
I got the idea from the people I work with. “Metabolic window!” one of them shrieks about halfway through the day, like a ring of a bell to bring pigs to the trough. They all swear by it, though, saying that it helped them stay lean but also maintain muscle mass.
These were not my goals. My issue – my perpetual torment – is that I feel completely ruled by cravings. Being hungry makes me miserable, and, for some reason, I am always hungry, always thinking about the next meal. I don’t know why I’m like this, but I am, and I don’t want to be. My hope was that regular, daily fasting would help calibrate or at least manage my appetite such that it didn’t consume so much of my brainspace.
Anyway, the idea behind IF is simple: you fast for longer than you feed. Different people use different techniques, but most common seems to be 16 hours of fasting and 8 hours of feeding – which, in practical terms, amounts to skipping breakfast or dinner. No caloric intake at all while in the fasting phase.
It is particularly interesting how we seem to be moving beyond the “six small meals a day” trend that was so pervasive only a decade ago, at least in terms of popular nutrition. Intermittent fasting is almost exactly the opposite.
I didn’t execute this perfectly, especially at first. I didn’t want to give up my coffee-with-sweetener at the start of the day. Then I had a bottle of Black Blood of the Earth shipped to the deployment site, which provided my morning go-go potion and kept me in the fasting phase for an extra few hours. (Black coffee allegedly does not break the metabolic window.)
We can’t drink while deployed, and I try not to eat any of the vast abundance of delicious desserts on prominent display at the galley (again: my eternal misery). So no alcohol or sweets. Besides that, though, I didn’t really change anything. In fact, I ate like trash. People assume that because I don’t eat meat, I’m very healthy, all the time. Not so, I promise you. My deployment diet was 90% potato with the previous food-service contractor, and when they changed over, it became 90% bread in the convenient form of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So, yeah, not a particularly balanced diet.
“Please,” my body wailed. “Feed me a vegetable. Just one, once, please.”
And that’s the wild thing: despite that, it sort of worked.
Dealing with the hunger pains was extremely challenging at first, especially during the last hour or two of the fast when I knew feasting was imminent. In time, though, it became surprisingly easy to tolerate, an annoying but manageable ache. Let’s take a moment here to appreciate how incredibly, horribly privileged this sounds: while I was whining from being hungry, I always had food nearby, ready to eat as soon as I was within my window. I knew, at all times, that the hunger was self-imposed and could be terminated at any time. There are so, so many people who are hungry in the world, and not because they choose to be for the sake of a strange body experiment. And that sucks. I think that made this exercise worthwhile possibly even in a moral sense.
After a time, then, being hungry didn’t feel like the worst possible suffering anymore. I could walk by the donut counter and not feel actual agony over not being able to eat any of them. IF significantly reduced my biggest weaknesses: my appetite and my cravings for sweets. That alone is a (Borat voice) great success.
A downside, though: after six weeks of uninterrupted, fairly reliable intermittent fasting, I started noticing a significant decline in energy and difficulty sleeping. This could have been attributed to any number of other things going on in a deployment setting, but in case anyone else experiences similar symptoms, it might be a good idea to take a break for a while. And also to talk to a doctor before starting any new diet!
Overall, I’m glad I gave this a try. It’s the sort of thing I could stick to for some time, possibly even longer than eight weeks. Will I, though? Probably not. But I know that intermittent fasting is something that works for me if I need to stop being such a baby about being hungry and wanting donuts all the time.