My 85-Hour Fast: What It Felt Like, What Surprised Me, and How I Broke It
Disclaimer (please read)
This post is not medical advice.
I am not a doctor, medical professional, or nutritionist. This is simply my personal experience with fasting, based on my own body, history, and comfort level.
I have fasted before, and while this was my longest fast to date, I consider myself generally healthy. Outside of digestive issues that show up when I’m not eating in a way that works for me, I don’t have underlying health conditions that would make this unsafe for me.
Everyone’s body, health history, and circumstances are different. If you’re considering something like extended fasting, please do your own research, listen to your intuition, and take your current health into account. And if you need or want medical guidance, seek it.
I also want to be transparent: many conventional doctors are opposed to practices like extended fasting or natural approaches to healing. That doesn’t make them wrong — it just means you may encounter differing perspectives. Stay curious, stay informed, and advocate for yourself.
I’m sharing this as a woman who is simply trying to feel better, understand her body, and heal in ways that feel aligned for her.
Why I Decided to Do the Fast
My 85-hour fast was a reset I needed. For context, I’m 39, and over the years I’ve tried keto, Mediterranean, and elimination-style diets to manage stomach issues — but I still felt foggy, stagnant, and not fully like myself. This fast was my way of hitting pause, clearing mental clutter, and seeing how my body would respond.
My normal rhythm is pretty balanced — about 80% nourishing meals most of the time, with the occasional indulgence. I’m also very active, training at least five days a week. And still — I didn’t feel good.
The stomach stuff never fully settled, but what really bothered me was the brain fog. The disorganization. The mental clutter. The best way I can describe it is like having cobwebs in my head. My creativity felt muted. My thoughts felt scattered. I didn’t feel like myself.
That was the part I couldn’t ignore anymore. I started to feel stagnant — like I was doing all the “right” things, but something still wasn’t clicking. I needed a reset. A real one. That’s what led me to this fast.
Not for extremes. Not for discipline points. Just because I needed change, and I needed to interrupt whatever pattern my body and brain were stuck in.
My 85-Hour Fast Experience
The Last Meal
My last meal was on Sunday around 6:30 p.m. That was it.
For reference, I usually don’t eat first thing in the morning anyway, so Monday didn’t feel dramatic. There was no shock to my system right away.
Waking Up at 5 a.m.
Alongside the fast, I recommitted to waking up at 5 a.m. This quiet time was just as intentional as the fasting itself — a way to ground myself and bring awareness before the day starts.
Mornings looked like this: wake up at 5 a.m., have a glass of room temperature water with Himalayan pink salt, meditate for 10–15 minutes, then read. I’m currently reading The Daily Stoic. If something sparked a thought, I’d journal about it and or share whatever was in my head in that moment
Movement & Breathwork
After journaling, came movement.
- Day one: a lot of energy. I stretched, did mobility work, and worked on hanging — my personal challenge to eventually hang for 2 uninterrupted minutes. I also did handstands. Then a short, steep 15-minute mountain hike. Once at the top, I just stood there in gratitude. The rest of the day: cleaning, organizing, and drinking water.
- Day two: a bit more tired, but still no hunger. Adjusted the routine — no hanging or handstands. Focused on gentle movement: cat-cows, dead bugs, core activation. Daily breathwork continued.
- Day three: energy is lower. Skipped the hike, rode a bike, and went to Pilates (trainer adjusted class for stretching and mindfulness). Still mentally foggy, but no headaches, pain, or red flags.
What really surprised me: I never felt hungry. No cravings. Seeing food, cooking, even saving recipes for later, didn’t trigger anything. I don’t know if it was discipline, mindset, or my body understanding this was intentional and temporary — but that stood out the most.
Breaking My 85-Hour Fast
I prepped bone broth days before. I kept it extremely clean this time — no garlic, ginger, turmeric, cilantro, or extras. Just washed bones, boiled once, then slow-cooked with sea salt.
Around 7 a.m., I had my first cup. Warming, soothing, gentle. Not filling, not excessive — just right. The taste was surprisingly good, simple, clean, and different from my usual.
I divided the batch into two. One portion stayed super clean, which I drank throughout the day — three cups, maybe four depending on how I feel.
Tomorrow, I plan to start introducing solids — beginning with bone broth in the morning, then adding half a tin of sardines. Simple, gentle, and listening to my body.
What I Thought Would Happen vs. Reality
I expected hunger to be the hardest part. I worried about headaches, shaky energy, and constant thoughts about food. None of that happened.
I also thought mental clarity would appear during the fast. It didn’t. Reading and learning taught me that clarity often comes after, when you start feeding your body again and do it well. That reframing helped me relax. The fast is the reset; the refeed is where the real work begins.
Where I Go From Here
I’m continuing with 5 a.m. wake-ups — not because early rising fixes everything, but because it helps me feel grounded and present.
I’m being more intentional about what I feed my body. After some research, I realized I probably under-eat more than I overeat. For a 39-year-old woman with one ovary and an active lifestyle, eating enough matters — a lot.
This next phase isn’t about restriction or control. It’s about nourishment. Eating enough. Eating the right things. Supporting my gut.
I’m also due for a colonoscopy this year. This fast felt like part of my preparation — a reset, a moment to pause, and a recommitment to being conscious about what I eat and how I take care of myself.
This isn’t the end — it’s a starting point. Listening more. Feeding myself better. Taking it one step at a time.
Closing Note
Your body is always communicating with you. The work is learning to listen — without forcing, without copying someone else’s path, and without rushing the process.
This was mine.
