THE FAST AND NOT SO FURIOUS
FX Mayr’s ‘The Cure’ is a popular practice in wellness, and its fasting technique is something we could all heed after summer galavants and pre-winter nesting
FRESH from my vitamin IV drip, Qigong class, lake lengths and sauna, I prepared for another five days of fasting.
From a wanderlust perspective, the merriment that’s stripped from a life when you’re resisting food and drink is less violently missed when you’re overlooking Lake Worthersee, near Klagenfurt, Austria.
You may have heard of FX Mayr, the world-famous gutreset wellness haven, via health aficionados and various swearby celebs.
Most recent devotees to ‘The Cure’ include Rebel Wilson, Mischa Barton and Suki Waterhouse. Like them, I left aside my red carpet razzle-dazzle lifestyle of 2020 — otherwise known as the rug from my sofa to my kitchen — behind for a detox.
Jokes aside, I have long incorporated the teachings of The Cure into my fast-paced lifestyle as a travel writer that saw me on the road more than I was at home.
Over time, as my career progressed, I came to loosely control rather than maniacally monitor the way I treated my body.
A lot of trips will involve three heavy-eating sessions a day, and entire itineraries, stories and research are planned around food and drink.
This is, of course, a wonky slope when you’re sleep deprived, jetlagged, working to multiple editorial deadlines and all the while people-watching and taking notes. Needless to say, eating when travelling full-time is not a very mindful thing.
THEN, we all became inextricably powerless in the time that saw us housebound as the world locked down for the past year and counting.
The healthier ways in which we’d begun to approach routines such as mindfulness and meditation had become so much more widely understood and practiced; but for many, this regulation and calm went swiftly out the window along with any future travel plans.
Exquisite, radical plans for home workouts — hat tip to the NYC ballet with Sarah Jessica Parker — and bike rides to the water for winter dips came thick and fast, followed by waves of overheating, agoraphobia and night terrors.
Everyone’s biorhythms were damaged, with the lack of inspiration leading to bouts of lack of movement, and an altogether manic battle between good and evil thoughts towards our bodies that resulted in crash weight losses and gains that overwhelmed our harassed systems.
When lockdown quietened this spring, it was evident I needed a gut overhaul and I wanted to relearn exactly how to best approach fasting, with intermittent fasting so heavily championed in this wellness day and age. How to do it safely and measuredly was of prime importance. I fiercely believe in moderation and a realistic approach to our wellbeing.
Classically, I arrived at FX Mayr with a killer hangover after preparing fastidiously with a clean and fit week prior — I never fail to outdo myself. My physician on arrival, as I took in the dramatic mountains surrounding Worthersee in the freezing rain, was to be found among roaring fires and softly spoken staff masked and ready to assist.
Being somewhere new with a vision only of healing instead of exploring and indulging, feels like a rarity in these times.
Most social media feeds were overflowing with scenes of the Amalfi coast, of towering pasta and endless Aperol spritzes as soon as travel bans were lifted.
My return to FX Mayr was no easy feat: it felt against the grain to be hiding away, to be retreating
when doors were finally being opened. It turns out, the grain is not always your friend.
The big reveal of my five-day cleanse was how my mental health wavered throughout the week and how much, conclusively, I’ve realised a life of travel needs balance and fasting that’s calmly moderated rather than extremely grasped at.
Our post-lockdown bodies need some TLC, some quiet and some resetting. A morning dose of epsom salts are prescribed on arrival at the luxe clinic, to clear the system and really set oneself to zero.
The resident osteopath in particular shed some fascinating light on nerve tension and clicked me to high heavens.
Morning Qigong and lake swims gave me new life, and unlike my previous fast, my body was subject to no headaches or weirdness. It seemed to have adapted smoothly to fasting this time and I’m looking forward to watching the results unfold further.
My doctor confirmed how learned the body is, and the memory it holds of the previous experience. I burned fat fast, but my energy levels remained decent.
I quickly lost half of stone of lockdown pile-on, and it felt right rather than radical.
There were some really sweet guests there and it felt like an altogether different vibe to summer/fall, with the snow and rain and crisp air. I truly adored it.
Working various writing jobs most of the day on my laptop around appointments actually felt natural and a good distraction from the hunger pangs — admittedly I did have to ask for soup on day three.
I relaxed on hay pillows in a fivestar suite with a steam shower in a robe fluffier than Bugs Bunny. Who needs Cinque Terre’s crowds when there’s Lake Worthersee sparkling turquoise in front of me?
Juggling work, lusting for broth and seeing the whole of the Mayr experience in a new light felt emblematic of how wellness just fits into our lives. We have to balance life and work however we see fit, we have to eat when our body asks for it, and we’re always privy to learning curves after being cooped up in our lounges and bodies for too long.
I realised how enlightening my chats with doctors, therapists and fellow guests were, how the fasting and quietness was allowing me to think and converse in ways I felt clammed up for months before.
As The Cure taught me — and as I have carried forward — I vow to breathe slower, chew slower and put the brakes on, even when it seems like I should be ticking over to the fast lane.