The true test of will – my week as a raw food vegan

Some people spend all their lives trying to figure out who they are. Sometimes their talents determine their position in life. Reid Wright really had no choice. Here is just a sample of his genius.





The true test of will – my week as a raw food vegan

By Reid Wright


My first couple days of detox were a blur. I wandered around the institute pale and dazed with a skull splitting headache, aching joints and intense pain in my kidneys where all the toxins in my body were being flushed out. I wasn’t recovering from addiction to cocaine, heroin, alcohol or meth – but the everyday American diet.

After learning of the return of my mother’s illness, my sister and I decided to fly with her to the Hippocrates Health Institute (aka “Hippy Death Camp” depending on who you talk to) in Florida for a week long stay, where I knew I would have to survive solely on unfathomable vegetables.

The day before we left, I ate a mountain of Mexican food and a Double Whopper to stock up on calories just to make sure I wouldn’t starve to death in the coming week.

The staff at Hippocrates however, are too smart to let me die. Many of them have a PhD, RN, MD and a slew of other capital letters after their names. Some of them have been with the institute for decades.

The program – described as “health boot camp” – focused on diet, juices, exercise, supplements, various therapies, and education of health issues. A long history of graduates of the program reported full recovery from everything from high blood pressure to cancer.

Lunch and dinner at Hippocrates consisted almost entirely of raw vegetables. Organic sunflower, pea, clover and mung bean sprouts made up the main entrée. Ken Blue, the executive chef, said that the sprouts contained enough vitamins, minerals, proteins and enzymes to make a complete meal by themselves. The other items on the buffet – such as dehydrated foods and prepared salads – were mostly just for fun and variety.

So me and the rest of the inmates sat down and ate our sprouts. Mealtime conversation usually centered around us assuring ourselves out loud to each other that we were doing the right thing and that this would make us better.

My first meal tasted watery and a bit bland, like a salad without dressing. My stomach grumbled at me politely as if to say “Thank you for the salad, now may I please have the rest of my food?”

At night, my sister and I talked about the food we were craving from the outside world, nearly reducing ourselves to tears.

(Stay tuned for Part II of: My Week as a Raw Food Vegan)