FILLING THE TANK
Food glorious food. My first meal
is an experience. Soft boiled eggs
and avocado with grilled halloumi
and a buckwheat crepe with leg
ham and cheese. A flavour grenade
detonates in my mouth. Then
something peculiar happens. It’s
like a rogue mechanic just slid a
charged-up car battery into my
chest - I can feel the nerves
throughout my body light up as
energy spreads outwards. Pins and
needles wrack my limbs and
goosebumps run rampant across
my skin. It’s like waking up via
defibrillator and I’m ecstatic. It
goes on for half an hour and is a
truly phenomenal experience.
What about the results? First
the aesthetics.Lifeblood gushes, the vials fill
one by one and clatter into the
stainless steel basin. Normally
this wouldn’t bother me, but
today is different. This is day six
without solid food. Day six of a
fast. I feel a strange sensation,
drowning in mid air, a heavy
sickness creeping up my throat.
My last words, “Something
strange.” Then I pass out and my
body starts to convulse. Nurses
rush from everywhere. This is
nottheplan...
What if someone told you
that you could add 15 healthy
years to your life? Stay sharp and
active past the age of 100? What
if they said you could destroy
damaged cells, the same ones
that cause cancer, Alzheimer’s
and dementia? What if those
damaged cells could be replaced
with brand new ones? Shiny
new stem cells of your very own
making flooding your system, the
body’s building blocks switched
on en masse, for the first time
since your teenage years? Sounds
good, doesn’t it?
There’s a reason we wish for
immortality, a reason we long
to shake our fist at the gods and
carry on. Life is good and we
want more of it.
While researching a story
on health and longevity for
Channel Seven’sSunday Night,
I came across a man by the
name of Valter Longo, professor
in gerontology and biological
sciences at the University of
Southern California and director
of its Longevity Institute.
Twenty-five years of research
and refining has him convinced
the fountain of youth is in fact
trapped within each and every
one of us. And all we need to do
to switch it on is stop eating.
Longo’s explanation is
compelling. Billions of years of
evolution has led to the pinnacle
of complex life on this planet: us.
Our bodies evolved to survive
feast and famine. The problem
is, humans are drawn to the path
of least resistance and, to put it
bluntly, we are overfed and lazy.
Restaurants, supermarkets and
drive-throughs were never part
of the plan. Starve bacteria and
it comes back stronger. Starve
ourselves, Longo believes,
and the same thing happens.
He calls it the Fasting
Mimicking Diet. A mix of thin,
vegetable-based soups, a few
olives, a few crackers; designed
to simulate a fast. Each day,
between 2500 to 3350kJ. Over
five days it forces the body to
switch from burning sugar as a
fuel to burning fat, jettisoning
extra baggage to stay alive.
Baggage in this case being the
damaged cells that could one day
trigger the diseases and maladies
that haunt our advancing years.
Dozens of mice trials have
yielded incredible results: mice
that live up to 40 per cent longer.
Human trials are also promising.
I realise with the trepidation
of a well-fed man, that all the
questions in the world wouldn’t
add up to a single day of
immersion, so I sign up.
First of all, cards on the table. I
have never even looked sideways
at a diet my entire life. Sure, I
eat healthy by choice and sure, I
exercise more than the average
person. But I eat what I like and
there’s a lot of it. About six
meals or snacks a day.Mostly
lots of meat, vegetables, fruit
and nuts. I have strong views
on anything outside these core
building blocks.
I believe soup is a drink
masquerading as food, a watery
lie that leaves you hungry an
hour later. Salad is to keep
mum happy and best avoided at
barbeques. Seafood is generally
too light to be called a meal.
But I’m not a complete
caveman. I know my limits. If I
eat more than 800 grams of meat
in one sitting, I get the clammy
meat sweats at night. It’s not
attractive. But if I keep an eye on
that, I’m just peachy.
So what happened when I
swapped my happy feasting
for daily rations that together
amounted to a series of snacks
that wouldn’t even satisfy my
little sister? Let’s just say the
results were mouthwatering.THE HUNGER GAMES
What followed was five days
of white-knuckling my way
through one of my oldest and
strongest fears: starvation.
My notebook entries from that
week of going without tell part
of the story.Day one.Breakfastisaslimnutbarthatdisappearsinthreesmall
bitesandapepperminttea.I’mhangryby10am.Thefamiliartendrils
ofhungersnaketheirwaythroughmy system so that by lunchtime
I’m getting light-headed, sweaty and anxious. A watery tomato soup,
my old nemesis, doesn’t touch the sides. With just a thin minestrone
soupwithsixolivesfordinnerIgoto bed witha tiger clawingatmy
insides. Restless sleep.Day two.Iwakeinanearpanic.Hungeristotalandmyheartis
racing. Feeling faint I reach for a diabetes kit. Surely this will tell me
mybloodsugarlevelsaresolowIshouldcallanambulanceand
end this torture? No. At 4mg per 100 it’s low but within the normal
range.Damn.It’sallinmyhead.Hardenup.Day three.My head this morning is clear. Up until now it’s
been foggy, but today my mind is uncluttered and operating at
speed. Amazing.Day four.The hunger panic is all in my head. I can still function. I’ve
beentowork,hadmeetings,writtenscripts,voicedastory.I
honestly thought I’d be in hospital by now, but I’m not. WTF?Day five.My producer calculated my regular kilojoule intake.
Conservatively,it’s25,000kJperday.Shesaysthat’salot.This
dietisalmostatenthofthat.NowonderIfeellikeangrydeath
and can’t sleep.
LongotoldmeIwouldcrashthroughawallandcomeoutthe
other side. The hunger would subside and I could fast for longer if I
wanted. Well, fuck you, Longo, I slammed into that wall headfirst and
slumped against it. I’m handling it but it’s not getting any easier.
IjustrealisedIhavenosenseofhumour.Someonemakesajoke
andIwanttopunchhim.Ialsohavenoappreciationforthelittle
things that usually give me so much joy. Sunshine is just sunshine.
The ocean is just the ocean. Music is bloody irritating.Day 6.BythemorningofthesixthdayIamragged,stressedand
sleep deprived but I’ve made it and incredibly I’m still functioning.
The last blood test will determine what has happened on a cellular
level, but I am so weak with fatigue I pass out with the needle in my
arm and start to convulse. I eventually resurface in the reassuring
armsofanurse.Whilemyproducerisshakentothepointoftears,it
doesn’tbothermeintheslightestbecauseI realise withajolt,the
blood work done, I can finally eat!I watch the needle push
slowly into my vein.
90 MAY 2017