This isn’t a beginner’s post. But it’s not a flex-fest either.
I respect anyone who’s already built the muscle of discipline with things like 16:8, 18:6, or even OMAD. That means you’re in the game — not just fantasizing about weight loss while shoveling snacks.
But a 72-hour fast isn’t just “more fasting.” It’s a different animal.
It’s where all your fake coping mechanisms get ripped out. Where the clock slows down. Where the excuses get louder — and your response has to be louder still.
This post is for the ones ready to use fasting as a weapon — not a wellness hobby.
Why I Came Back Harder — And Why You Probably Should Too
Years ago, I was deep into 16:8. Five days a week. Clean. Consistent. Thursdays and Fridays? That’s when I went dark — 48-hour fasts, no questions asked. Not negotiable.
Then life happened. I broke the streak. Took a detour. And when I tried to come back, I thought I could pick up right where I left off.
Big mistake.
My first “comeback” 36-hour fast hit harder than I expected. Not because the method changed, but because I did.
Softened. Slowed down. Lost the mental edge.
So I made a choice. If I was going to return, I wasn’t crawling back to 16:8. I was coming back swinging, straight to 72-hour fasts, to take back control.
72 Hours of War — What Actually Happens Inside Your Body
Here’s what’s happening under the hood:
- By Hour 12: Glycogen’s gone. You’re burning the last of your stored sugar.
- By Hour 18–24: Ketosis kicks in. Fat starts melting. Hunger starts lying.
- By Hour 36–48: Autophagy fires up. Your body starts eating its own trash — damaged cells, old proteins. This is where the healing happens.
- By Hour 72: Growth hormone spikes, insulin sensitivity improves, inflammation drops. You’ve earned it.
But here’s what nobody tells you: those benefits don’t come easy.
Your body doesn’t hand them out like party favors.
You have to fight through cravings, boredom, self-doubt, and the temptation to “just have a little something.”
If you can’t handle the suck, you don’t deserve the shift.
The Hard Truth About “Losing Your Edge”
You want to know what happens when you take long breaks from fasting?
You become weak.
Physically, mentally, metabolically. You re-addict yourself to comfort food and easy dopamine. You start fearing hunger like it’s some disease.
You forget what it’s like to actually be in control.
And here’s the punch in the gut: It’s nobody’s fault but yours.
I say that because I did it too.
I took the break. I paid the price. And when I came back, I felt like a newbie all over again.
Fasting is a blade. Stop using it, stop sharpening it, and it rusts.
So if you’re crawling back after a break, expect pain.
That’s not a punishment — that’s the toll you pay to earn back your edge.
How I Prep for 72 Hours — and Don’t Flinch
Let me walk you through how I actually prepare. No Instagram woo-woo, no Pinterest meal prep — just what works.
1. I Don’t “Carb-Load” Like an Idiot
Stuffing your face before a fast isn’t “fueling up.” It’s sabotage.
Spiking your insulin and flooding your system with sugar only guarantees one thing: a crash.
Then you’re 10 hours into your fast, starving, shaky, and mentally fried.
Not because fasting is hard — but because you set yourself up to fail.
I taper my meals 24 hours before — lean protein, fats, fiber. Stable blood sugar. No sugar bombs.
2. I Time My Start With Intention
I don’t “fit it in.” I engineer it.
I kick off my fast Monday night — after a solid training session — and break it Thursday night or Friday morning, depending on how I feel.
That gives me 72 hours flat.
Clean. No excuses. And yes, I do train mid-fast — not to burn calories, but to signal my body to protect muscle and stay sharp.
That’s the whole point: controlled stress. Not hiding in bed waiting for the clock to run out.
3. I Prep My Environment
I don’t rely on willpower. That’s for amateurs.
I get rid of temptation before the fast begins — no snacks in sight, no open invitations from “well-meaning” friends who want to feed me.
I put up boundaries and stick to them.
This is war. Don’t leave ammo for the enemy.
Game Day — What I Do Hour by Hour
You want to last 72 hours? You better own every hour.
Here’s how I roll:
- Water: At least 3-4 liters daily. Not optional.
- Electrolytes: Sodium, magnesium, potassium. Keeps the cramps and dizziness away. If you skip this, you’re the reason you feel like shit.
- Black coffee: Helps with focus and suppressing appetite. Just don’t overdo it.
- Movement: I walk. I stretch. I work.
- Tracking: I use a fasting app and tick off the hours. Each one is a win. Each tick builds momentum.
And most importantly — I don’t watch the clock like a desperate ex waiting for a reply.
Stay busy. Build. Create. Move. Think.
If all you do is sit around obsessing over how hungry you are, you’re setting yourself up to fold.
The Wall You’ll Hit — and Why You Can’t Panic
Everyone hits a wall around Hour 24 to 36.
You’ll feel it. It’s not fake. But it’s also not final.
Your stomach will grumble like it’s dying. Your brain will scream for dopamine. Your hands might shake. You’ll hear that voice:
“Just have something small.”
That voice is your inner coward. And it only has one goal: to pull you back into the comfort zone.
Don’t listen.
The wall is the test. It separates the dabblers from the serious.
Climb it, and on the other side is clarity, control, and that calm, clean energy that only comes when you stop being a slave to your impulses.
Breaking a 72-Hour Fast Without Breaking Yourself
Here’s where most people screw up — the refeed.
You don’t reward a 72-hour victory by eating like you just got out of prison.
You ease back in with small, clean meals — broth, protein, greens. Wait an hour or two. Then eat again. Gradually. Controlled.
Why?
Because your digestive system has been dormant. Slam it with pizza and you’ll end up bloated, nauseous, and angry at yourself.
Plus, you’ll ruin the very metabolic state you worked so hard to earn.
Discipline doesn’t end at Hour 72. That’s where it gets tested the most.
If You Want Growth, Starve For It
Fasting for 72 hours is not about calories. It’s not a diet hack. It’s a mirror.
It shows you who you really are when comfort disappears. It reveals your level of control. It breaks your ego, your patterns, your lies.
And it builds something stronger in its place — hunger, clarity, and grit.
You don’t fast for three days to impress anyone. You do it because you’re done being average.
You want mental sharpness? Starve for it.
You want to break addictions? Starve for it.
You want to stop being soft — in body and in mindset?
Starve for it.
Now go do something hard. And don’t come back until you’ve got your own story.
