Day 1

You know you're in Costa Rica when they're playing a reggae version of "Gangman Style" on the radio...

After a never ending 18 hours of travel, I have finally arrived in San Jose at 10:00PM, only to (albeit voluntarily) spend a restless night here at the airport until tomorrow. Or at least that was my game plan. The 3 ways I justified pulling an all-nighter at the airport were 1) I’m a cheapskate and don’t want to pay for a hotel 2) I feel safer in the airport and 3) mi espanol es limitado. And I want to be here when Jennelle’s flight comes in around noon. Fail. My plane pulled in, I got through customs, got my bag, and followed the crowd (the baggage area was not very hospitable with no chairs). When I got out the door it was, "Taxi? Taxi! Si Si Taxi!" Before I could really come to terms with what was going on, the decision was made: I am going to the hotel tonight. "Destinacion Hotel Aeropuerto!" was all I could say to Jose. "You e-speak e-spanish?" he replied. "Uh, no. Senor." I hopped in the orange cab and the warm breeze and humid city air hit me suddenly as I started bopping my head to Psy. 

My “last supper” was yesterday’s (Thursday’s) lunch of 6 bananas at around 1:00PM. It was the weirdest thing to take my last bite and think, “That was my last bite of food for a long time.” I didn’t think much of it, but got home and instinctively started preparing dinner for Michael. I had to consciously occupy myself with other things to get out of the kitchen (or else I risked accidentally eating something). I was doing OK (I had plenty of last minute stuff to do) and successfully made it to bed that night, even though I did endure sitting next to Michael while he ate his own dinner and we watched our last episode of “Family Guy” together. 

Fare thee well, Utah! Sunrise over the Rockies

We joked that I actually got to “sleep in” a whole half hour til 5:00AM the next morning (I usually get up at 4:30AM for work). I drank 16 oz of water upon waking and was feeling pretty good! I got through the entire first flight to Houston (drank another 24 oz) without even noticing that I hadn’t eaten for 24 hours. I was planning on meeting up with my sister in Texas, but that fell through since her kids weren’t feeling good, so I ended up going back through security and finding my gate (4 hours left to kill). While walking through the airport, I passed various food courts and I could feel my stomach starting to contract and growl a little bit. This continued on and off for a few hours, but it didn’t even bother me. I recognized that my stomach was shrinking due to lack of food/digestion, but I didn’t actually feel hunger. I felt so mentally prepared for these first 48 hours [everyone says they are the hardest] that they came and went without me hardly realizing it! Seriously! Looking back (now that it has been closer to 36 hours) I was prepared for the utmost worst, and now I am feeling more energized than ever! Dare I say, more energized than a normal day of eating? It's hard to distinguish between my sheer excitement for being in warm, tropical Costa Rica and actual energy. 

 I think so much of fasting is mental; you have to want to do it or else every ounce of negativity will get to you. You’ll start telling yourself (and believing) that you are crazy, after all, who chooses not to eat?? Well, I really want this. And I really know what I’m doing. I am confident that I am doing my body right. I am cleaning house; I know that I am biologically designed to function perfectly for an extended period of time without food.