I was standing in the Species front office futzing around with an electrical connector from the video studio next door and trying hard not to accept the fact that I can no longer see things up close. I know... I know... I need to wear glasses.
Dave walked in the door at the far end of the office. As he came up to me he realized my plight and made some crack about how far away I have to hold something in order to see it. For some reason, my advancing age and the foibles that come along with it - such as blindness - are a constant source of amusement for the Whack Pack. Dave shot me that 4 x6 grin of a car salesman and he said, "you need glasses."
"I need more than glasses."
Dave showed me some more of those sterling white teeth and said: "Have you ever cleaned your colon?"
"Are you changing the subject, or are you adding up another old man joke?"
"No I'm changing the subject... This girl I know said I should go on a colon cleansing fast. Have you ever fasted?" I actually had and I said so. "Really?" he looked surprised. "Juice or just water?"
"Water."
It seemed hard for Dave to believe. "Just water?"
I shrugged, indicating that I was pretty comfortable with the fact that I knew what I was talking about. "Yup, just water."
"How many days did you do it?"
It was a long time ago and I had a hard time remembering - you know, because I'm old. "Five. I think. I'm pretty sure it was five. After you haven't eaten for a few days you have to ease back into eating. So you start off with juice for a day, and then gradually move up to food. It was a whole week altogether."
"This is different," Dave said. "There is this mixture we have to drink,"
"We.....?"
Dave had a Species warm-up jacket on. He pushed it open and got out his wallet that is not quite as big as a bale of hay. When he slapped it down on the desk it made a fat sound that was pleasant to hear. It was a familiar sound that my wallet used to make. Getting that huge wallet out of the way, Dave was able to retrieve his Crackberry from his pocket. He simultaneously fumbled with the wallet to put it back in his pocket while he scanned his text messages. His chronic shoulder problem made it seem like a lot of work, prompting another display of superlative dental whitening until his wallet was back in his pocket and he found the text he was looking for.
Dave read from his phone, "Okay, first thing in the morning you drink a quart of water with 2 teaspoons of salt mixed in it." If that didn't make your morning then this will: "It makes you shit your brains out."
Alllll-righty then... how could I possibly not be enticed by such a directive? I mean, what more could a guy want then to know that he can drink a simple mixture and thus shit his brains out?
Dave continued, "It takes about a half hour. She said you can't believe what comes out of you."
"Yeah.... but I take Fiberlyze twice a day. I should be clean as a whistle."
"You'll be surprised," he said. "The salt really draws everything out of you. It's like an oral enema."
I didn't like the way that sounded. I pictured an institutional red rubber enema bag hanging from an IV stand with several feet of white plastic tubing and felt my gag reflex prime. What a vile and de humanizing image an ‘oral enema' congers.
Dave continued, "then, after you stop shitting, you have to mix up this drink. You need natural maple syrup. Get the dark one: Grade B natural maple syrup... it's hard to find. I had to go to a health food store. You need six ounces of that (1 1/2 cups); then the juice from three lemons; and a pinch of cayenne pepper.... you mix that in two liters of water. You're supposed to drink 2 - 3 liters of that throughout the day."
Hmmmmm.... Maple syrup and lemon? "That sounds like it would taste good," I said.
Dave's eyes lit up quite bromantically at the hint that I might go for this along with him. "So, you want to do it with me?" He asked.
Well, now the invitation was clear. The grin dropped off my face and it looked like I had never grinned in my life. I enjoy few pleasures any more, the thought of taking away food from me would bankrupt my gratification account. I'm sure my eyebrows were touching while I thought about it... The minutes went by on tip toe. Lately life has also been short on challenges that I've imposed upon myself. I've taken a beating lately and haven't really addressed much more than survival. I realized I haven't challenged myself in a long time in anything having to do with my wellness or fitness. Suddenly the idea of trading in one form of gratification for another didn't seem so inequitable. I'm sure my digestive system could use the break, and who can argue with a good cleaning? Not to mention, It would be nice, for a change, to be in control of the hardship. So, I agreed. Besides, all bodybuilders know that anytime a girl suggest that a guy do something unconventional and inherently mass reducing - such as a starving yourself for days - the first thing an iron brother does is look for someone to do it with him. If you're going to shrink you want the guys around you to shrink with you in order to keep everyone's perspective the same.
"How many days are you supposed to do this?" I asked.
"She said seven days, but I'm only doing three. I have to go to Phoenix on Friday. Three should be enough."
"Three days," I said to myself. I've been to prison. I can do anything for three days. What the hell. "Sure, I'll do it with you."
And Dave was happy.
I meant to go to the store that night. But we ended up getting back from the studio late and I had to get Max to bed. So the trip to the market would have to wait until morning, after I dropped Max off at school. I had the salt and the water at home already. I figured I could do the salt drink first thing in the morning, run out and drop off Max, then hit the store on my way home and get what I needed before my colon erupted.
I woke up and immediately mixed up two teaspoons of salt in a quart of water and guzzled it in three long belts with little rest in between. It wasn't so bad. Tasted just like the water in the ocean. Now, remember, I take Fiberlyze every night before bed. You can set the clock by my regularity. Half an hour after I guzzled the salt water I felt the urge to go. But that was also right around the time of my usual fiber-forced evacuation. Either way, I found myself in the bathroom emptying my guts. So, I thought that was it. I left the house, dropped off Max and then stopped at Pathmark on my way home. I pulled into a parking spot about half way across the lot, locked up the truck and headed for the entrance. Twelve paces later I froze in mid step. It felt like there was an ice pick trying to get out of my ass.
Holy shit! Literally... if I didn't squeeze my legs together I was going to be standing in a shit stain in the middle of the parking lot! With the focus of a Zen master, I willed my sphincter uncontrovertibly shut and waited for the spasm to pass. It did and I was good to go. All I had to do was head straight down the produce isle, grab a bag of lemons, swoop around the end of the isle and up the next one right passed the maple syrup section. I could be back out of the store and on my way home in three minutes.
I stepped inside the store unsure of myself - like a lion who has just discovered his new home is a place where people pay to shoot him. If I shit my pants in the middle of the store I hope I would die from it. I'd never survive the embarrassment. Luckily, everything went to plan and I was back out in the parking lot heading for my truck just as predicted. Then, in almost the exact spot it happened three minutes ago, the ice pick was back knocking at the door. I froze again and willed the sensation back. I hurried into my truck and backed out of the parking spot. I swung around, jammed it into first gear and popped the clutch. Then I had to slam on the brakes because a hunched over 90 year old guy in a brown cardigan with a hump like a small camel on his back hobbled out in front of me. I nearly hit him yet he was totally unbothered. It was like he didn't even notice me! Like, of course I would see him and stop, it was his parking lot.
With the alacrity of snail that guy plodded on in front of me. I pounded on the steering wheel in angst. Then the sharp poke from the ice pick. AGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!! Hurry up! He finally moved over enough to get by and I nearly sliced off his ear with a side view mirror. I broke every traffic law on the way home. I even made a left on red in front of the police station! I screeched into my drive way, bolted up stairs and into the bathroom in what seemed like one huge leap. Trust me when I tell you that history has yet to record a call closer than this one.
Over the next hour and a-half I visited the restroom every fifteen minutes or so and peed out my ass. I couldn't leave the house until it passed. Which it did. Actually, after I finally stopped purging my guts, I felt pretty good.
I was looking forward to mixing up the lemonade. I hadn't tasted natural maple syrup since I was a kid when we used to make our own from the maple trees we tapped when we lived on the farm upstate. If you ever taste true natural maple syrup, then taste the one in the plastic Aunt Jemima bottle, you'll notice no comparison. But you get what you pay for. For the same money as a pint of real grade B natural maple syrup you could buy a couple of gallons of Aunt Jemima's. Real maple syrup is expensive! But it's worth it. The combination of the fresh lemons and the real maple syrup makes a really amazing lemonade. The pinch of cayenne pushes it over the top. It's supposed to boost thermogenisis, but I doubt the amount involved really elicits much effect, however it does make it exotic when you pour it over ice. I also found myself nuking mugs full of it and drinking it like hot tea. I have to say, I really liked it and I drank more than two liters the first day.
All that night I dreamed of food. I saw myself on line at Iverone Brothers buying prosciutto and fresh mozzarella and a loaf of semolina bread. I was making it into a sandwich doused in extra virgin olive oil. Then I dreamed I was at Lombardi's having a coal fire pizza with extra cheese. Then I saw myself stopping at Capri bakery on the way home and picking up canolis.... I kept tossing and turning. One time I woke up thinking I blew the fast because I had actually eaten all that stuff! It was a long restless night.
When I woke up it was back to the salt water. And this time I stayed home. Sure enough, a half hour after I drank it I was in the can. This time it took a full two hours before I had the confidence to leave home. I didn't like this aspect of the cleans. Number two works for me, not the other way around. Not being able to leave the house for two hours made me feel very helpless and not in control.
When I finally could leave the house I took a two liter bottle of the mix with me. I drank it all day while I worked in the studio. Then I met Dave later at the gym and we trained together. Neither of us noticed any difference in our strength. I felt fine and I did 30 min on the treadmill after we worked out.
By the end of the second day I wasn't hungry. I did feel like I'd had enough though. I hinted to Dave that I'd be fine ending it right now and he wouldn't hear of it. He said, "we said we'd go three days so we're going three days." Cool, just checking.... The morning of the third day I didn't do the salt water. I had places to go and couldn't be bound home for two hours. I just drank the mix all day. When I met Dave at the gym later I told him I wanted to end it tonight. He said, "no way! Not until the morning. Quit trying to quit early."
"I'm not trying to quit early. I'm just saying we probably should ease into eating again. Nothing wrong with starting tonight."
"Yes there is." Dave shot back. "It's not three days unless you go until tomorrow morning."
"Oh, I'm fine," I said. "I was just thinking about you, you know, having to get on plane first thing in the morning....."
"I'll be fine," Dave cut in. "Don't worry about me."
Okay, so we were going the distance. I was still not feeling hungry. I had a good workout and did 45 minutes of cardio afterward. As long as I was drinking the lemonade I was fine. It killed the hunger and tasted pretty good - even after three days. I cut out the cayenne pepper on the last day. It was starting to make my tongue swell up. The lemonade is far more refreshing without the cayenne. I'm actually craving it right now as I write this.
Friday morning I was ready to eat. I made stele cut oats. They take so long to cook, but this was a treat. I'd waited three days to eat, another 30 min was nothing. I ate them with a little peanut butter stirred in, and a side of grilled chicken breast. The sensation of chewing and eating was wonderful. Everything tasted so much better than usual. Eating was heaven.
I did notice that my stomach got very flat. Dave did too. I felt very energetic once I started eating again. My workouts over the weekend were really strong and I felt very awake and very motivated in the gym. I cheated on Sunday with some pizza - at Lombardi's. It was better than it was in my dreams.
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