Brian Delaney never does lunch. Typically, his breakfast is a bowl of yogurt (fat-free) sprinkled with cereal (sugar-free), berries and some (fat-free) soya milk. Although sometimes he skips that meal, too. For dinner he chooses something more substantial -- a piece of steamed fish, maybe, and a large green salad (no croutons, dressing or mayonnaise). Occasionally, for instance, every
six months and only if he feels he has deserved it by working out extra hard at the gym, he allows himself a couple of M&Ms or a glass of red wine.
ILLUSTRATION MOUNTAIN PEOPLE
Mostly, Delaney's calorie intake barely nudges 1,800 a day, half the amount consumed by the average western male. At 1.8m and weighing less than 63kg, he is thin and usually hungry.
It is 10 years since he first put himself on a brutally restrictive diet (initially he ate even less), yet he still experiences the cavernous "pit in the stomach" every mid-afternoon, an energy trough familiar to all dieters. His approach goes way beyond cutting down on food to look good or feel healthier. To the casual observer, it looks like anorexia. But Delaney firmly believes that extreme deprivation enhances his well-being.
Drastic calorie restriction (CR) has been shown to increase the lifespan of laboratory animals. Delaney would like to live for ever, but will settle for making it to 122. And if the ageing process in mice and guppies is slowed when their food consumption is halved, why shouldn't it work for him?
It is in the name of superlongevity that, as president of the CR Society, a growing but controversial movement, Delaney advocates cutting back on food to the point of bare subsistence. There are 1,000-plus members worldwide of the California-based CR Society, all of whom adhere to the principle that a degree of self-starvation can trigger physiological and biochemical changes in the body that will enable them to have the last laugh on cynics. If all goes to plan, that will be some time next century.
On a continuum of diet behavior, CR appears to sit somewhere between fads (Atkins, Zone, South Beach) that claim to streamline the podgy, and completely disordered eating. If society's obsession with dieting has taught us anything, it is that self-denial -- whether of carbohydrates, protein, fat or calories -- is the key to success. CR takes abstinence to a new level.
At its most draconian, CR's ultra-lean followers consume only 1,200 calories a day, an amount the British Nutrition Foundation considers unhealthily low even for women, who usually need to eat less than men to survive. All members exist on at least 1,000 calories below the optimum level recommended in the government's healthy eating guidelines (around 2,000 calories for women and 2,500 calories for men -- more if you are particularly tall or active).
Where CR departs most radically from dieting is in its underlying philosophy. By definition all CR adherents are skinny, but that is not their goal. Their mission is to postpone the onset of killer ailments such as diabetes, heart disease and cancer, and to stretch out their golden years long enough to see their grandchildren's children grow up. It is a Methuselahn ideal, questionable in terms of both ethics and rationale. Why anyone would want to outlive their family, friends and peers is unfathomable to many.
Michael Rae, a spokesman for the CR Society, is 1.8m tall and weighs 52kg. He reflects the views of many in declaring that "ageing is a horror that has got to stop now" and that "at this moment CR is the only tool we have to stay younger longer." He argues, plausibly, that "people are popping antioxidants, getting facelifts and injecting Botox, but none of that's working." However, his suggested solution -- self-starvation -- is bewildering.
Rae, a vitamin researcher from Calgary, has a high-powered career. He and Delaney and other society members -- scientists, businessmen -- are the last people you would expect to be swept up by a dietary fad. In stark contrast to the majority of those targeted by the diet industry, the CR Society's membership is predominantly male.
Scientific Theories
Dave Fisher from Ascot, Berkshire, is currently one of only two signed-up CR members in the UK. He was attracted not by the promise of shedding pounds (in fact, he had little to lose), but by the scientific theories on which CR is based.
"In 1981 I read a short article in New Scientist about experiments on rodents that lived longer when they were fed less," he says. "I thought, `Isn't that really important? If it works for other warm-blooded mammals, it should work for us.'"
Fisher began trawling libraries and journals for more evidence, and initially eliminated junk food from his diet.
"Sweets were out, fruit was in. Then I read that hydrogenated vegetable oil was two-thirds toxins, so avoided anything containing that. Wheat gave me migraines, so that was out."
Within months, he had reduced his daily intake by 2,000 calories a day.
Fisher saw his weight plummet to less than 60kg, which, on any height-and-weight chart, would be considered too low for his 1.78m frame. His weight has since increased to what he considers "a healthier" 66kg, after he adopted a regime of no breakfast, a 500-calorie lunch ("150g blueberries, 150g raspberries, a handful of almonds") and a 1,000-calorie evening meal of vegetables and a chicken breast. He likes tuna, but tries to avoid it -- "It's loaded with mercury" -- and occasionally succumbs to a protein bar with a meal: "I love them, but they contain 240 calories, which is bad."
He accounts for every single calorie he consumes: "Is that obsessive? I'm not sure. Some CR-onies have software that analyzes every nutrient in every food. That is verging on the obsessive."
What does he miss? "Oh, there are loads of things: bread, especially ciabatta and granary, custard slices, bacon, doughnuts, cheese, sausages, chocolate..." If he smells them, he is tempted. But he has never once strayed from his path.
"At the start, you con yourself into eating things," he says. "I mean, for instance, I hated vegetables as a child, but when I started CR I made myself like them by pretending I liked the taste. Now I think they are fine."
Taste preferences, he says, are developed, not innate.
"You can make yourself like anything. No child likes beer, but we make ourselves like it as adults. With CR, we apply that theory in reverse," Fisher says.
Yes, of course he missed alcohol at first. He weaned himself off it gently, switching first to low-alcohol beer. Now he says he never fancies an ice-cold beer, not even on a hot summer's day. As for hunger, he insists he rarely feels it, as long as he feeds himself his allotted number of daily calories.
"I look at it this way: if I was destined to live to 90, I can extrapolate from studies that I might live another 40 years on this diet. And if you can live even an extra 10 years, then life-extending discoveries might have been made which give you another 20 years of life," he says.
Bob Simpson, 52, from Essex (1.75m, 54kg), who has been on the full CR diet for eight years, is similarly convinced.
"In the past 10 years, so much science has been done on this," he says.
But has there? Researchers first laid the groundwork for calorie restriction in the 1930s. Clive McCay, a nutritionist at Cornell University, discovered by chance that underfed rats not only maintained a more youthful appearance than those on a regular diet, but lived up to one-third longer. Similar results have been obtained with monkeys, dogs and any number of species. Except humans.
Speculative
Experts point out that evidence of CR helping people to live longer remains speculative.
"Trials would be too lengthy and difficult," says Toni Steer, a nutritionist at the Medical Research Council's centre in Cambridge. "Animals have a relatively short lifespan, but humans increasingly live into their 70s and 80s, which makes it harder to study the effects of such a diet."
Even so, few doctors oppose the principles of calorie reduction per se, especially since CR members ensure "optimal nutrition," including essential vitamins and minerals, from what little food they do eat. Crucially, this is what sets CR apart from eating disorders such as anorexia, which restrict all food, and therefore all essential nutrients, to a point where the body is unable to function in a normal way.
There is some historical evidence to support CR. After World War II, for instance, when food rationing was enforced, there was a drop in mortality from heart disease and diabetes. Anne Nugent, a nutrition scientist at the British Nutrition Foundation, says this stems from the reality that "most people eat too much anyway, and if you replace calorie-dense, fatty foods with more fruit and vegetables, then that is a good move." However a skepticism about prolonged and extreme CR remains.
Delaney is pleased with his progress so far. Twice a year in Stockholm, where he lives, he has a blood test and medical. To date, "the results indicate a physically active, very healthy 25-year-old." Not bad for a man of 40. He concedes that sticking to the diet can be trying at times, but is considering cutting back a bit more.
"Maybe eating just a little less would give me a little more energy, make me more clear-headed. It does appear that this is really, really good for you. The evidence is just pouring in every day."
Fisher, too, says that, at 47, he has been told he has the health status of someone 20 years his junior.
"I was a subject in an American trial on calorie restriction last year. The researchers found my aerobic capacity to be better than 90 percent of the population. I am fit and healthy and I feel good," he said.
The pursuit of an ageless body is becoming the research topic of the moment. One theory is that calorie restriction works because it slows down metabolism, or the burning of calories as fuel, in an instinctive reaction to conserve energy; ordinary dieters suffer the same effect, which is why they reach a plateau of weight loss and struggle to shift more fat. While metabolism is essential to life, it can have a destructive effect.
"A fast metabolism can lead to a greater production of free radicals, the damaging substances produced by oxidation that are involved in many chronic diseases," explains Steer. "What [CR] advocates are proposing is that by eating less they are directly reducing the production of dangerous compounds. It is plausible that, up to a point, fewer calories will lower the risk of some diseases. But it has never been categorically proven to prolong life."
More Resistant
Mark Mattson and his colleagues at the US National Institute of Ageing, in Baltimore, have already discovered that mice fed every other day appeared to live longer than those allowed to eat at will. At the end of Mattson's experiment, all the mice were injected with a toxin that damages cells in the hippocampus, the part of the brain where cell damage causes Alzheimer's disease. The semi-starved mice were shown to be more resistant to the toxins, as well as less prone to markers for diabetes.
For humans, there is an obsessiveness inherent in CR. Preparing meals, even stocking your fridge, is a complex business. It will also burn a hole in your pocket. A diet based primarily on fresh foods, with ingredients such as brewer's yeast, flaxseed, bean-sprouts and nuts featuring in most recipes, is not cheap. The scores of recipes posted on the society's Web site includes a "better chocolate pudding" made with, among other things, 13 squirts of sucralose concentrate, guar gum and micronized cellulose.
Calorie restrictors claim to be sacrificing food for others -- they want to be around for their grandchildren -- but their lifestyle can alienate them from friends and family. Sherman's wife, Kathy, remains unconvinced by her husband's drive to live for ever. She and their children have steadfastly stuck with such all-American staples as Krispy Kreme doughnuts and pizza. Never, she says, has she been tempted to refuse her favorite foods by the promise it would add hours to her life.
A couple of years ago, the stress of Michael's CR habit became so great that Kathy seriously contemplated divorce. If anything, she thinks her husband's six-year anti-ageing mission has left him more worn out than men of the same age. His initial weight loss -- at 1.65m tall, he now weighs 63kg -- was so drastic that close friends and family became concerned for his health.
"Here was this one-time powerlifter who looked to me like a concentration camp refugee," Kathy says.
Michael was irritable and his sex drive was stuck in neutral. A compromise was eventually reached -- Michael had counseling and, on the advice of his therapist, took a prescription drug to boost his libido. He also hired a daily help to mix his fresh Megamuffins, giving him more time to spend with the kids.
He refuses to change his goals, but has agreed to be more accommodating to family life. He now uses a separate fridge to store his soy protein and guar gum staples, stacking them neatly in rows of plastic containers. A huge stride forward came when he recently agreed to buy his children doughnuts on a Sunday, even though he still refuses to take even one bite himself.
CR proponents usually sacrifice any notion of getting a gym-honed physique. However, when you eat too little for too long, your body goes into shut-down mode, says Anne Nugent, from the British Nutrition Foundation.
"You get muscle wastage, lose strength and generally feel tired all the time. Your body is using all its energy supplies just to sustain vital functions," she says.
Simon, a 45-year-old IT consultant from Hertfordshire, seems to exemplify this. He was once a county-level swimmer but has been unable to manage more than a couple of lengths a week since he switched to CR seven years ago. He is not a member of the society, but embraces its philosophy to the full. For his height, 1.85m, he is a painfully scrawny 53kg. Lack of energy is one of the downsides in his case, he concedes.
"But it's worth sacrificing if you feel as good about life as I do," he says.
There is also concern that CR will attract those predisposed to eating disorders. Delaney is undeterred, saying only children should be banned from trying it.
"If I were going to advocate something publicly, it would be this -- if you are not at risk from eating disorders, if you've spoken with your doctor, if you are concerned about your health, then I'd suggest trying calorie restriction," he says.
Suggestions that CR is in any way unhealthy for normal adults were also dismissed by Roy Walford, former professor of pathology at UCLA, who realized the benefits of eating less after spending two years of a research program living in a self-contained ecosystem in the Arizona desert. As food supplies dwindled, Walford and his colleagues were forced to practise CR involuntarily, and found that their blood sugar, cholesterol levels, blood pressure and, of course, weight dropped precipitously.
If there is a Dr Atkins of the CR community, it's Walford. His books, including The Anti-Ageing Plan, have become bibles of calorie restrictors worldwide. In a cruel twist, the professor suffered from the nerve disorder Lou Gehrig's disease, and was confined to a wheelchair for the last few years of his life (there is no suggestion the disease is linked to diet). Until his death, he remained a staunch calorie restrictor, and was adamant that an anti-ageing cure lies ahead.
Last year, researchers at Harvard
Medical School discovered a chemical, resveratrol, in grape skins, and therefore in red wine, that increased life span in yeast and fruit flies by 60 percent. They were optimistic that it might have the same effect at cellular level in humans.
In January, Mattson, of the US National Institute of Ageing, began the first major study of the long-term effects of meal-skipping on humans. He is screening men and women between 40 and 50 to see how blood pressure, immune function and other markers respond to one daily meal versus three.
"We think what happens is that going without food imposes a mild stress on cells and those cells respond by increasing their ability to cope with more severe stress," says Mattson, who admits to skipping breakfast himself for the past 20 years and who, at 1.75m, weighs only 54kg.
It remains possible that CR enthusiasts are on to something after all: starve yourself and, rather than crumbling through the self-inflicted torture, your body responds by enhancing its own defenses in the face of deprivation. Their mantra, that if you eat a third less, you will live a third longer, could yet be proven to be true.
Those who are hooked on deprivation are optimistic they'll be around to witness it become mainstream. Delaney is already planning how to fill those extra decades he is storing up. He wants to write books, record some jazz CDs, study Nietzsche and, of course, spread the word about CR.
But even he admits: "In the end, life is short, no matter what diet you're on."
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