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A week before my visit to Lanserhof Lans, a friend messages and cuts straight to the chase: “How much does it cost? How much do you lose?” But I’m not checking into the Austrian retreat to seek weight loss—even if it would be a welcome side effect. I’m going to see how it’s responding to the rocketing use of weight-loss drugs, with a new program aimed at people who are taking, or have previously taken, these medications.
Since Mounjaro was licensed for use for weight management in the UK in 2023 it has become the most widely used weight-loss drug. Its effects can be life-changing—dramatic weight loss for those who have struggled with the issue their whole lives. But rapid weight reduction rarely comes without significant downsides, including muscle loss, bone density loss, vitamin and mineral deficiencies, and in some cases, more serious issues such as inflammation of the pancreas or gallbladder, and even—rarely—thyroid tumors.
Mounjaro mimics two hormones that occur naturally in the body, which regulate blood sugar and appetite; the medication slows down gastric emptying and helps the pancreas release insulin as blood sugar rises. By activating hormone receptors in the brain that control hunger and satiety, it reduces appetite and food cravings.
Ahead of my visit to Lanserhof, I’d lost about 35 pounds over five months on a low dose of Mounjaro. I’d started strength training six months before this and followed a healthy diet, prioritizing protein and fiber. In my mind I was ticking all the “sensible user” boxes and was happy with my progress. Yet in health terms, as I began to realize in Austria, this was only one side of the picture.
At my first consultation Dr. Dinah Putz-Gergely seems less interested in the Mounjaro, and far more concerned by my relentless and sedentary work life, stress levels, and pitifully poor sleep. She points out the flaws in my regime—that weight training, while useful, needs to be balanced with daily walks to wake up the circulation and get blood pumping, but also lower my stress levels and help me find calm. Later that day I get my bespoke plan for the week.
There are brisk 7am forest walks, group yoga, breath work, and a class on Lanserhof healing exercises, which combine stretching, tapping, and movement. I do three personal training sessions, including one with ex-pro-volleyball player, Magan Prieto, who shows me stretches to counter-balance my weight training and tight muscles. I’m wired up in an ergospirometry appointment, in which my heart, circulation, and metabolism are gauged while I walk at an increasing incline on a treadmill—giving an accurate picture of how well my metabolism is functioning (all good, thankfully). In between the stress-busting movement, a raft of blood work and tests is conducted, with ultrasounds of my liver and thyroid, and equally crucial checks on muscle mass and bone density.
There are detoxifying body treatments, including circulation-boosting masks and a heavenly purifying therapy in which I am coated with algae, fango mud, and essential oils, and left to gently cook over a steam bed before being cocooned in a liver wrap.
I shiver in swimwear in the invigorating, anti-inflammatory cryotherapy chamber, spending three minutes at -116 degrees Fahrenheit, and emerge feeling chilled after Cellgym altitude sessions, where a controlled feed of low and high oxygen levels assists in cell renewal and promotes healthy mitochondria. Perhaps most revelatory of all is spiritual craniosacral therapy with Leo Erhart (an extra outside the program), which puts me in a deeply zen state—something I am not familiar with. The cumulative effect of the treatments is that the ever-present cloud of heavy stress and tension slowly lifts from my body. It feels miraculous.
