Context: For the readers of mine who don’t have the Substack app and didn’t see the shares in my timeline this week—I embarked on a 100-hour, water-only fast that began Sunday evening.
(My voiceover of this story available above!)
Before you get the wrong idea—no, I’m not quitting because I’m starving or struggling. The God’s honest truth is, I’m actually not hungry at all.
I’m quitting because I want to honor and be responsible for what’s best for my body.
The plan was 100 hours.
But clearly I didn’t plan too well, because if I hit that mark, 100 hours will fall in the middle of the night here in Dallas, Texas.
Which means I’d be breaking my fast and then immediately lying back down with food in my belly for the first time in four days—and that’s not at all how I choose to reintroduce fuel into my tank.
Yes, I could wait until tomorrow morning, but I don’t want to.
I’ve already reaped the benefits of going the distance, and I’m happily choosing to end this thing at 95 hours.
Upright, proud, and deeply grateful.
I’ve had a handful of thoughtful friends reach out and ask how it’s going—so, for those who might be interested, I thought I’d share the roller-coaster rundown of these last four days:
Day One
It felt like a day where I’d just forgotten to eat lunch. A little spacey in the belly, with plenty of growls and hunger pangs. I could definitely feel my body expecting food, but it was nothing too miserable. Day one highlighted just how often I’m used to nibbling or snacking out of pure habit or boredom.
Day Two
Holy shit.
Different story—day two definitely hit harder.
I tossed and turned that night and woke up with a piercing headache. Not your run-of-the-mill headache either—the kind that doesn’t just sit in your temples, but grinds throughout the entire backside of your skull.
It was rough.
And… I couldn’t stop thinking about french fries.
Seriously.
A red basket of crispy, skin-on french fries. With an oozing dollop of mayo, ketchup, and a bottle of sriracha for spice.
This wasn’t just craving—it felt like withdrawal.
From carbs, caffeine, sugar, and salt.
My body was jonesin’.
I went to bed with my mind playing tricks on me—teasing and tempting me to declare, “48 hours is still really good. No one will know, and people would totally understand if you cut this thing short.”
However, I powered through.
Day Three
Ahhhhh.
Now comes the turning point—and the time I’ve heard others refer to as “The Sweet Spot.”
I woke up with a sense of lightness—not just throughout my body, but in between my ears.
After drinking my water and putting my contacts in, I was instantly aware of how clear and focused my thoughts were.
Like, hyper-fucking-focused.
I also felt energy like I hadn’t had the previous two days. It wasn’t the jolt you get from morning coffee, but a crystal-clear bolt of adrenaline and aliveness.
It honestly felt like I was on a natural high from pure Colombian cocaine. I don’t know how else to explain it.
(Not that I know anything about pure Colombian cocaine. But if I did, it would be because I spent a wild nine months backpacking through Central and South America—a handful of stories for another time, maybe)
The reality is, Day 3 I felt spectacular.
Even going as far as to leave several friends of mine long voice memos—declaring my long lost love and appreciation for them.
Messages that I’m sure felt out of nowhere.
I’m telling you, it was the kind of euphoric clarity that doesn’t show up every day, and, for whatever reason, I was damn sure my friends needed to know about it.
Even my senses were sharpened. I could smell every unlit candle in my apartment, and when I took Goose out to do his morning business, I instantly felt the outside air sticking to my fingertips.
Something else I’d read about but never experienced—my breath had a faintly sweet smell to it. Which, I Googled, is a byproduct of ketosis—and a signal that my body had officially switched over to burning a different kind of fuel.
Crazy, huh?
Day Four
Again I woke up feeling light and clear-headed—and I haven’t been hungry once today. Which blows my mind, considering I haven’t eaten a morsel of food in more than three days.
There’s something they say about days 3 and 4 being spiritual, and now, I totally get it. Once you move past the physical need for food—something shifts.
Something taps in and you recognize just how resourceful your body can be.
You remember how little you actually need—and how much of what you consume is habitual or unconscious.
Today, I find myself… happy.
And I truly can’t pinpoint exactly why.
My emotions are barely balancing on my sleeve, but it has nothing to do with any sadness.
It’s rejuvenated gratitude. I feel grateful for my health. For my family. For my reset. And for my body’s ability to survive, heal, and adapt.
Right Now
In this moment, I’m sitting here at hour 94.
Sixty minutes from my adjusted 95-hour finish line.
No headaches. No cravings. And zero fucking fog.
Just an insane amount of clarity and gratitude.
These last four days have been a journey of a different kind.
An internal reckoning, if you will.
One that, while not at all easy, has been absolutely worth it.
Because it’s always a favorite question for folks, I have lost 7.5 pounds in 4 days. And again, weight loss was never the goal.
But for anyone overweight who might be reading this—immediate weight loss is a very real and powerful side effect of a water fast’s internal realignment. That’s not medical advice, of course.
Personally, I did this for a couple of reasons—cellular regeneration being at the top of that list.
But I also did it to give my digestive tract the rest it so desperately needed.
Additionally, it was time for a “hard-stop” and a complete reset with what had become a lazy, habitual relationship with food and alcohol.
Since being home, I’d turned into a full-blown sugar junkie, having something sweet after every meal. And while I don’t drink much, I was drinking often—a beer or two 3 or 4 nights a week. I am now highly in tune with the fact those decisions were having an impact on my mind, mood, and body.
Don’t get it twisted, I’ll still be sipping a few suds over the summer—while also having the occasional bowl of Ben & Jerry’s after dinner.
But after this much needed reboot, I now have the wherewithal (and commitment) to be much more diligent about my discipline.
So now, as I ease my way back into the rhythm of food, I do so with an even deeper gratitude for this adaptive vessel I get to live in.
Listen, not everything has to be so extreme.
But sometimes, abruptly pressing pause is the most gracious thing we can do for ourselves.
I won’t go as far as to say a water fast is for everyone—but if you’ve been feeling off, foggy, or just out of sync with your body, it might be worth considering.
I’d spent the last seven months eating some of the world’s most delicious, soulful street food. And I’ll soon continue doing just that—but now, it’ll be with a little more reverence for what it means to be nourished.
And yes, I’ll be real with you—I will absolutely be having myself a basket of french fries this weekend.
But this time, it won’t be from craving.
It’ll be from choice.
With Gratitude & Gusto,
Adrian ⚡️
I wanna give a special shout-out to my amazing sister who spent hours in the kitchen yesterday preparing me a few days worth of freshly pressed fruits & veggies to nourish my system with.
For those who don’t already know, I hit the lottery when it comes to sisters. Delaney, aka Chula-Bula, is the textbook definition of Ride-or-Die—and one of the people I’m most grateful for in my life.
If you don’t know, now you know!
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