Tag: cold therapy

Cold Therapy Update – April

A University of Pennsylvania study of brain scans showed some striking differences between how men and women’s brains work. “In the study, women scored well on attention, word and face memory, and social cognition, while men performed better on spatial processing and sensori-motor speed.” Female brains worked back and forth across the hemispheres while male brains tended to work front to back.

Everyone cautions, brains are not hard-wired, a major tenet of philosophy, along with the premise that generalities are generalities.

I also think that discipline in one realm spills out in another spill. I think that, though, because this is how it works for me. It seems to be how I’m wired. I don’t know if that’s forward to back.

My last hot water shower was on March nineteenth. It’s been cold showers since, a challenge on my last two weeks as I traveled and visited families. One of the ways I’m wired is to take a hot shower to relax and prepare, especially when traveling. I love checking in, making plans and kicking it all off with a hot, relaxing shower to clean off travel grime.

Boy, rejecting hot showers were a tempting challenge in the hotels and homes I stayed in during the last two weeks. Be strong, I told myself, shivering until the cold blast. And I was.

I don’t know if it helps me rewire myself, if there is re-wiring involved in discipline and choices, or if I’m just smoking myself. But afterwards, I feel good. I feel strong and ready to go on.

Much as I do after a hot shower.

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Cold Therapy Update

My cold therapy continues. It’s been two weeks since my last hot shower. I believe I’m finally adjusting.

Mind you, the temperature outside has been dropping to the mid-thirties at night, so the water is wickedly cold when I shower in the morning.

I believe I’m adjusting. My scrotum no longer leaves, slamming the door behind it in protest. I used to turn on the water, count to three and then ease in, a body area at a time, starting with my head. Then I began counting to three and leaping in. Now I step up and turn the shower on.

Bracing, baby.

It is invigorating. I love toweling off now, mostly because I enjoy re-acquiring warmth and feeling in my body parts.

I do use hot water for my face afterwards, because I’m shaving. I did cold water shaving in the field in the military. It’s not something I’m going to do again, if I can avoid it.

 

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Cold Therapy Continues

March 20th marked the beginning of my cold therapy challenge for myself. Today’s cold shower was my ninth.

I’m very slowly acclimating. Washing my hair (twice) was the worst. I turn the water off after soaking my head to apply the shampoo and lather up. It seems like standing in the shower during that interlude feels bitter cold.

Still, it’s a choice and it’s inside, where it’s sixty-eight degrees. It’s better than many have. Yeah, I whine and rant about it because c’est moi.

On the bright side, I’m probably saving money on the water and gas bills.

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Cold Therapy – Day Five

I hope you know who Christopher Walken is, and how he often delivers a line, with its unusual pauses and inflections. Because that’s the voice in my head as I write this.

“I’m on day five of the cold therapy experiment inspired by Aidan Reed, and the water…feels like it’s become colder…icier…if you will. My nuts, now tired…of ascending…into my body for warmth…are now talking about…separating, to go their own…way.”

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Disgusting

I’m going to break a rule.

I’m blogging about body functions and human habits. Other than a few books, like “Our Bodies, Our Selves,” and “Everybody Poops,” we prefer that our body functions are kept secret.

I’m writing about one of the things I do that most disgusts my wife. Now, I’m sure several things will come to your mind, depending upon your age, history and sex.

It’s in my thoughts today because I did it today. The habit in question is blowing my nose in the shower.

The water is running. I’m blowing into my cupped hand. Then I’m rinsing.

My wife has informed me several times that it’s a disgusting habit. One time when she told me that, I complained about it to female friends at work. Did they find it disgusting?

“Oh, yes, absolutely.”

Astounding. “Why?”

“Because it’s a filthy, dirty habit,” they answered. “It’s disgusting.” Their husbands and boyfriends did it, too, and they wanted to know, “Why? Why do you do this? Why do men do this?”

I had an answer. “There are several reasons. One. I have hairy nostrils. Things get fouled up there. Snot hangs on and hardens.

To quote them, “Oh, gross, do you need to be so graphic? TMI.”

Undeterred, I continued, “Two, I’m in a private location. I can blow to my nose’s contentment.”

They were feigning gagging.

I think they were feigning it.

“Three. The hot water loosens everything up. And four, I can wash it all away. It’s efficient, clean and economical. If I didn’t do it, I’d be out there blowing into wadded tissues and hankies for a long time, which you would probably find equally disgusting.”

I was thinking of that conversation today, during my third day of cold therapy, because there wasn’t any steam. There was only ice water. At least it seemed so to my naked skin. The cold water was worse today because I was washing and conditioning my hair. That gave me time to think because I turn on the water, soak my head, then turn off the water to lather up. The water is then turned on again and the shampoo rinsed out. The water goes off again while I apply conditioner. I’m trying not to be wasteful. Then I turn the water on, rinse off the conditioner, soap up, and turn the water off, turning it on again for the final rinse.

It’s during the final rinse where I blow out my nostrils. Was it as effective in freezing water? Seems so.

So my logic for doing this may be partially wrong. Maybe I’m just a gross, disgusting male with bad habits.

Well, some would claim I’m now being redundant.

 

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