What a Week Will Look Like: An Honest Projected Sketch

Let us be precise about what this article is, because the temptation to read it as a brochure is strong. This is a sketch of a week that has not happened yet. Phoenix Oasis opens on 30 June 2028. No cohort has walked through this schedule. Every hour below comes from the programme design as it currently stands, and a good portion of it will change once real women, real weather and real fatigue get involved.

We are publishing it anyway, for one reason: a woman deciding whether to give a week of her life to something deserves to see the shape of it, including the parts that are still uncertain. A page of adjectives tells you nothing. A projected schedule tells you a great deal, even if the details move.

So: this is how a seven-day stay — the format called the Wake-Up Call — is currently designed to unfold. Read it as an architect's drawing, not a photograph.

Day one: arrive, and do almost nothing

Arrival day is deliberately underloaded. Most international guests will land in Neiva after a long flight through Bogotá, and the design assumes exhaustion rather than enthusiasm.

The plan for day one is the welcome sequence, time alone in the bungalow, a first meal, and one short orientation walk on the estate to get the legs moving after travel. No training block. No goal-setting workshop. The only thing scheduled with any weight is the sunset, facing west, which every day of the stay is designed to end with.

Days two and three: build the base

These are the days where the rhythm gets installed. The current sketch places the shape roughly like this:

• Around 6.00 — first light and a gentle mobility session. Rivera sits close to the equator; sunrise falls at almost the same hour all year, which is exactly why a fixed early start is realistic here and would be absurd in Stockholm.
• Around 7.00 — breakfast, unhurried.
• Around 8.30 — the main training block, placed before the heat: strength work, boxing fundamentals or a hill session, scaled to the woman rather than the group.
• Around 12.00 — lunch, then a protected pause through the hottest part of the afternoon. Rest, the thermal spring, a book, sleep.
• Around 16.00 — the second, lighter block: skill work, a walk, a workshop.
• Around 18.00 — sunset, then dinner, then an early night.

Two days is roughly what it takes for a body to stop arguing with a new schedule. The design deliberately keeps the first two mornings sub-maximal, on the reasoning that a woman who arrives from a sedentary year and is pushed hard on day two will spend day four in recovery she did not plan for.

Day four: the hinge

Every honest week has a hard middle. In the current design, day four carries the longest single effort of the stay — most likely a hill route toward one of the estate's waterfalls, with the pace set to be genuinely demanding for the group as it actually is.

It is also, in the design team's expectation, the day when the initial novelty has worn off and home has started to reassert itself. Placing the biggest physical demand there is intentional: the plan is for the week to be at its most convincing on the day it would otherwise be at its most fragile.

The evening of day four is correspondingly light. Nothing scheduled beyond food, the sunset, and time.

Days five and six: choice, and depth

From day five the sketch opens up. The morning blocks continue, but the afternoons become genuinely elective — a technical boxing session, a strength progression, a longer solo walk on the trail network, or a workshop tied to the themes of the stay.

This is a design decision with a reason behind it. A retreat that decides everything for you produces a good week and no transferable habit. Handing choice back in the second half is how a schedule starts turning into a practice a woman can run without supervision — which is the whole point, since day eight will happen at home.

Day seven: leaving on purpose

The last day is designed to be a real day, not a checkout. A short morning session, a final shared meal, and a closing sequence in the sunset zone — held in the morning for those flying out, because the ritual matters more than the hour.

The plan also includes a written departure piece: what changed, what is worth keeping, and what the first week back is actually going to look like. Not a certificate. A plan for Tuesday.

What will change between this sketch and the real thing

Plenty. Some of it is already predictable.

• The weather will rewrite it. In the wetter months of the Huila year the long hike will move earlier or move entirely.
• The group will rewrite it. A cohort of experienced athletes and a cohort of women returning to movement after years away cannot be given the same day four.
• Rehearsal will rewrite it. The team intends to run full programme weeks internally before opening, precisely so the first paying cohort is not the test group.
• The women will rewrite it. The single most likely correction, based on how programmes like this usually go, is that the afternoons will need more empty space than a designer sitting at a desk wants to leave.

None of this is a promise about how a week will feel. It is a statement about how it is currently drawn, published early and on purpose, so that what eventually opens can be measured against it. If you want to compare the seven-day shape with the longer formats, the retreat programmes set them side by side.