Is this what fasting is normally like?
I've been trying to pay a lot of attention to eating strictly to hunger, lately. Most days this works out in me getting hungry around late lunch-time, and then again around dinner--naturally falling into that six or seven hour block I'd seen discussed. I noticed that if I had some (full-fat, unsweetened) Greek yogurt and berries after dinner, I'd wake up starving... but otherwise it seems I'm not naturally inclined toward breakfast.
Anyway, yesterday I kept waiting to get hungry, and just never did. I went out and burned a few calories with a little low-grade parkour-type monkeying around, climbing a tree at the park, jumping up on/off/over stuff, that kind of thing. I had a little heartburn around bed-time, so I munched a couple almonds, but still didn't feel hunger.
I had a little bit of a hard time getting to sleep. I felt great--sharp and active and, I dunno, "primal". Like I wanted to go out and hunt. Or climb a tree. Or... go kayaking ;0). Hunting hawks in this state are said to be "in yarak", honed and ready with a particular look in their eye; that's what I felt like.
I woke up this morning and checked in with myself. I wasn't hungry when I woke up, so I went out and did a little more climbing around at the park, came home and was suddenly ravenous, about 10:30. I had a handful of grass-fed ground beef cooked in tallow with some green beans and spinach and it was great.
Is there a limit to "eating to hunger"? I feel great. I'm not counting calories or tracking portions under the assumption that I need to learn to listen to my hunger signals. Is it okay to just continue eating on a total non-schedule? Primal food PRN? ;0)
Last edited by mixie; 10-24-2011 at 11:16 AM.
“Falconry is not a hobby or an amusement; it is a rage. You eat and drink it, sleep it and think it. You tremble to write of it, even in recollection. It is as King James the First remarked, an extreme stirrer up of passions.” --T.H. White, The Godstone and the Blackymor
"The world must be all fucked up when men travel first class and literature goes as freight."
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude