Moby Dork (or: How to use cold water to fix stuff)

I haven’t posted anything in two weeks…sorry about that. I’ve been distracted by my granddaughter (her newest photo is below). Despite the fact that her main focus appears to be coating the house with vomit and explosive diarrhea, she’s adorable.

But back to this week’s topic: Cold water bathing. I recently stumbled across a couple of studies suggesting that drenching yourself in freezing cold water for 60 seconds each day can strengthen your immune system and help treat depression.

Just in case you don’t believe me, here are the links: Torture study #1 and Torture study #2.

Of course, I do like to make myself miserable in the name of science, so I decided to try cold water bathing. For four days straight, I had my usual hot shower, then I turned the hot water off—suddenly, entirely, completely off—and blasted myself with ice water for 60 seconds. I’ve done this four times, so that makes me an expert. Here are the pearls of wisdom that I would like to pass along, just in case you want to try something this unpleasant:

*Self-control is key. To be clear, cold water therapy is the opposite of ripping off a bandaid. You don’t just make one small move and then endure the discomfort until it fades. No, after you shut off the hot water, your brain will mount an aggressive attack against you. It will fight for the use of your legs so it can get you the hell out of there. Have you ever watched a squirrel’s reaction when it gets trapped indoors? That’s what your brain will do as soon as the ice water hits your skin. Ignore the squirrel—if you scramble out of the tub now, you’ll just soak the floor.

*Your bladder is going to lie. When the ice water hits your skin, you’re going to think an elephant is standing on your bladder. You’re going to think you’ve just chugged a gallon of water. You’re going to think you absolutely must go pee. You don’t. Your bladder is lying—it’s trying to get you to jump out of the tub. Ignore it. As soon as you shut off the water, your bladder squirrel will calm down.

*Your lungs will be your enemy. Take a really deep breath before you blast yourself with ice water—because that’s the last gasp of oxygen that you’re going to get until you turn off the tap. Your lungs are going to try to kill you. As soon as the cold water hits your skin, you will not be able to inhale—it’s your lungs’ way of saying “stop this or you die.” You won’t die. Seriously. It’s only one minute without functioning lungs—you’ll be fine.

You’re probably asking: But does cold water therapy actually work? Well, according to the studies it does. And—although I hate to admit it—I haven’t had pneumonia or felt depressed for the last four days. Am I going to continue? Of course not—that would be ridiculous. Wine also improves immunity and makes me happy—and I have a corkscrew.