60 Zero

And just like that, the joy fizzles out. Every day, it’s like I’m counting down to my next culinary rendezvous—I swear, I live meal to meal. But recently, I’ve put a full stop to all that, only to realize how much my mood’s been hitching a ride on my food habits. Let’s be real: food shouldn’t double as your personal brand of happiness. Sure, it’s a blast to indulge and there’s nothing wrong with savoring a good meal, but living solely for the thrill of the next bite? That’s no way to roll. Time to ditch the feast-or-famine routine and scout out what genuinely makes me happy, sans the sugar coating.

I might be off-base here, but hey, we’re not just wandering through life without a clue. Our brains and bodies are basically our personal petri dishes. Sure, there’s a chance this whole thing could spiral into me swapping one vice for another—hello, blackjack and basement poker nights, or, heaven forbid, something heavier. But, fingers crossed, that’s not on my horizon. With all the running and racing that usually keeps me on my toes, I’ve got enough distractions. Especially now, with a bit of downtime between training cycles, the timing couldn’t be more spot-on.

So, last night at 8, I hit a milestone: a full 24-hour stretch without so much as a crumb making its way past my lips. But why stop there? Now, I’m clocking in at 39 hours and gunning for 60. I’ve danced with 24-hour fasts before, chasing that detox high and giving my body a chance to hit the reset button. And, let me tell you, the buzz around town—about how overeating’s the grim reaper in disguise—might just have a point. The minimalist eaters out there, they’re onto something, living life in the slow lane, longevity-wise. Plus, there’s something almost magical about how the body kicks into repair mode when you ease off the feeding frenzy. A weekend of pushing my limits, followed by strategic refueling, and bam—I’m back, better than ever.

But this new 60-hour gig? It’s more than just a test of will. It’s about digging deeper into the why behind my food fixations, more than the what. A part of me is just curious to see if I’ve got the grit. And through this, I’ve stumbled upon a goldmine of endurance tactics—mastering the art of pacing and keeping a cool head when everything else is a blur. When I emerge on the other side, I’ll ease back into the world of flavors, bit by bit, gearing up for my next training chapter. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally shake off those late-night cravings for cardamom ice cream.