Master Cleanse: Ten Days on the “Lemonade Diet”

August 1, 2024|Rick Juliusson

After 4 days of Winnipeg Folk Fest, 200 miles of cycling home and a 10-day media cleanse, I was feeling free, clear, strong of body and spirit. It bubbled up in me that it’s time to do another Master Cleanse - the 10-day “lemonade diet” I “enjoyed” 18 years ago. Time to take back control of my eating impulses, cleanse that liver, and finish this Minnesota time strong.

I pedal the final 55 miles in time for my “Ancient Rangers” soccer game, after which they hold a premature retirement tailgate party for me. I gorge on American brats, Asian noodles and Mexican carne casada and guac, chugging down a Cherry Coke. Only later do I learn that I was supposed to prep for the cleanse with a 4-day paring down to a much healthier and then liquid diet.

With a triumphant burp I announce to bemused teammates that I’m now off food, and hope I’ll have a bit of energy for next week’s game. Quick stop at Target on the way home to buy 60 lemons, 2 jugs of maple syrup and some cayenne pepper. That’ll do for 10 days.

Day One: Easy (181.5 pounds)

Weight loss is not a prime motivator for this - most of what I lose will come back. I start the adventure at 181.5 pounds, only about 4 pounds above where I want to generally be (and 15 pounds lower than the start of the year - Sarah and I have been eating consciously, working out, walking, cycling, mountain trekking etc for 7 months now).

The memory of last night’s indulgent tailgate feast makes skipping food tolerable today. Sarah forgets twice and offers me tempting treats, and no-one seems to mind the injustice of House Husband Ricky still being the one to clean the dishes and put away food. But it’s my choice, doesn’t change my role in a family with two hard-working roommates.

After walking Z to work or cycling with S to work, I come home to my work...

Day Three: Grumpy (177.8 pounds)

Oh Joy, it’s Grumpy Day! The day when I come to realize just how much energy it takes to put up with the everyday annoyances of life and people. It’s not that I’m a jerk, just that people around me are jerks and I just don’t have the energy or motivation to grin and bear it anymore. If I were sent back to Miss Ruth’s kindergarten class to “remember my kind ways” (a classic Waldorf “punishment”), I’d tell her I’m too tired today to overcome other people’s pettiness and pretensions - someone else will have to be the nice peacemaker today.

Probably not the best day to drive an hour to Taylors Falls for an 80-minute paddleboat ride down the St. Croix river. But I rally for a lovely visit and rooftop bocce-ball game with dear friends from my Habitat Africa days, suffering a little while watching them eat Sarah’s delicious mediterranean feast. Another benefit of this fast: deep appreciation (and longing) for Good Food.

I bake brownies for my last in-person Men’s Group monthly gathering tonight. It’s hard to not partake in the rich gooeyness, and even harder not to instinctively lick my fingers. Even when clearing dishes after my family’s meals it’s hard to not to nibble leftovers - the little habits that define us…

Day Five: Fatigue (174.5 pounds)

Fatigue set in yesterday. By the 3rd game of pickleball with Zekiah I had to stop between each point to clear the fuzz out of my head, reorient, and summon energy for the next point. (Yes, Zekiah, that’s an excuse for blowing a match point and so narrowly losing that third deciding game 16-14, nothing to do with your last-minute discovery of a wicked backhand passing shot).

Today I just had no reserves and no drive. Spent the morning on this laptop doing something, don’t know what. Watched some bad Breaking Bad before a 2.5 hour nap. Managed the long slow walk across the bridge to the co-op for more lemons, with Sarah cycling by on her way back from work to make sure I made it home.

Day Seven: Bliss (171.3 pounds)

Now comes the benefit of a week of fasting. No hunger pangs, no grumpiness, no deep fatigue. I don’t yet have the rebound superman energy I remember from last time, but life is a fluffy cloud. Everything feels easy, light, smooth. I float through the day unconcerned with managing time or controlling outcomes. Sitting in the car after a physio appointment I sit back to consider driving 30 minutes across town for a free walking tour, but instead wake up an hour later in a reclined driver’s seat. It’s all good.

My soccer team says I played great tonight, but I felt like the engine was running at 60%. Just no after-burners, no extra gear to chase down their imposing strikers. My bliss state translated to enjoying the art and energy of the game without being particularly attached to the outcome (of the game nor of individual plays - missing a tackle or making a great pass felt equally satisfying). After the game Carter broke out Old Dutch chips with classic Minnesota “top-the-tater” dip, as disappointed as I was that I’m still 3 days away from enjoying such indulgences. They’re promising another tailgate farewell feast next week after my real Last Game (remember I said I’d put the weight back on…?)

Day Nine: Boredom (170.0 pounds)

I’ve made it through the hunger pangs, the grumps, and the bliss. My body is supposedly now eliminating old waste as of day 7 (helped by nightly laxative tea and a morning quart of salt water that keeps me close to the toilet for the first hour of each day). Now I’m just a bit tired of being a bit tired, and questioning whether it’s worth it to finish these last few days. Even just googled “Why is 10 Days Important…”

Good time to remind myself WHY I’m doing this (in this order):

Gain control and perspective on my food urges and habits
Cleanse out the system in the same way I did the media cleanse and bike ride for mental/physical clearing
Prove to myself I still have this willpower and willingness to invest in myself
And, to be honest, it’s a good story - get lotsa raised eyebrows at the co-op and pizza shop, though bragging about 8 versus 10 days is probably moot

Wait, isn’t the Master Cleanse about Weight Loss?!

By the end of this I’ll be down to the weight from high school graduation, early adulthood and even early marriage. Sometime during my farming days the scrawny old 167 pounds slipped up to 174, which I accepted as muscle growth and probably healthier anyways for my size. When we moved from Costa Rica to Minnesota in 2018 I instantly gained 10 pounds and 184 became the norm, which I accepted as the price for living in the gluttonous USA and for finally having slower middle-aged metabolism.

But when it crept up to the mid 190’s and threatened to break 200, it was crisis time. On bad days I thought about succumbing and just being a “normal” overweight North American. But I care about my health, my speed on the soccer pitch, my modeling to my boys and my beach belly more than my doughnuts. So it was time to stop accepting excuses and take responsibility. I scaled back portion sizes, monitored macros like carbs and proteins, and launched a more regular and deliberate workout routine. That’s what got me back down to 181.5 when this whole thing started.

So while it’ll be nice to briefly revisit my 16-year-old self, realistically this little jump start should result in me getting back to the 175-178 range as my norm, and 180 as the warning bell to smarten up. And this starvation-induced lightweight body does not feel or look as strong or healthy as when it’s accomplished by hard work and healthy diet - I feel more like the scrawny teenager who was unsure of his body than like a strong man who takes care of himself.

Day Eleven: Relief! (167.8 pounds)

I wade through the riverfront crowds as families await the fireworks show. I watch them eating so carelessly. Eating and talking. Eating and walking. Eating and texting – that should be a crime! Eating and not even noticing that they’re eating. Not noticing that they are nourishing their bodies, or perhaps punishing their bodies willfully as a trade-off. Not noticing that they are nourishing their senses with the succulent tantalizing Temptations of sugar or oil or fat or crisp greens. Eating without awareness, without appreciation.

When I ease back to solid foods in the next few days (today is orange juice and vegetable broth), I am going to savor every meal, every mouthful, every chew, every spit and swallow. I will be wholy aware of the privilege and joy of eating. Every bite of Sarah’s salad or Zekiah’s patatas bravas will be a symphony of senses that I will savour to the fullest. I will have no room to look around or talk, or even breathe, save to soul-gasp in appreciation, "I am eating. I am eating! HALLELUJAH, I AM EATING!"