What selfish creature participates in such opulent pursuits?
The answer is... me.
Prior to arriving in California for work in 2013, I enjoyed a selfless life. Perhaps the most selfish act I could commit (and it happened frequently) was to buy a book and read it into the wee hours of the night. Sometimes, I would snooze for a minimum of three hours before heading to the lab. Ah, those were the days when my body was young and spry.
Well, truth be told, my body is still young and spry. But for some reason, I have become more anxious. Friends and family point to many factors--LA traffic, work, membership in too many professional groups, pollution, etc. Whatever the case, I have resorted to various forms of relaxation. This includes cryotherapy and float therapy, which you can read about elsewhere. The point of this post is to share my adventures of the experience.
Cryotherapy
One beautifully warm California afternoon, a couple colleagues (Mike and Min) and I walked to our favorite lunch stand. We enjoyed our asada or pescado quesadillas with arroz. As we made the trek back to the lab, we started discussing Hollywood trends. The weirder the trend, the better the jokes. Mike then brought up Lebron James new routine. He had recently read that Lebron participated in cryotherapy.
"What is that?" we asked.
"It's a form of cold therapy that uses the vapor of liquid nitrogen to reach temperatures as low as minus 260."
"What?! I don't believe you." -me
And so the skepticism built until we returned to lab and Mike researched the topic. He sent me a link of his findings and I did my own research on the topic. It turned out Mike does not tell tall tales. He found a groupon pass to Ice lab in Costa Mesa, CA. My interest was piqued. I figured that I spent too much money on massages and this expenditure was minimal compared to those massages, so I joined the groupon deal. Three months later, I drove the 45 minutes to Costa Mesa to experience three minutes of cold bliss.
So how was it? It was quick. Once you arrive, you can grab a robe, socks, crocs, and gloves from the shelf. There is a changing room (basically a curtain for privacy) near the chamber where you strip down to your birthday suit. The chamber is ready within minutes. I stepped into the chamber (which was already at the right height), took off the robe, and handed it to the young woman operating the machine. She talked with me the entire three minutes as a means of distraction from the tingly cold, which I began to feel in my legs around 2:30. Upon completion, she returned the robe and opened the door for me. I quickly changed into my street clothes and went on my merry way.
Bottom line: I would do it again! I slept better than a baby that night and the following nights. I woke in the morning without any aches. Writing about it now and describing it then sounds incredulous, but it isn't. It worked wonderfully for me!
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| A chill individual |
Bottom line: I would do it again! I slept better than a baby that night and the following nights. I woke in the morning without any aches. Writing about it now and describing it then sounds incredulous, but it isn't. It worked wonderfully for me!
Float therapy
For my birthday, my lab buddy presented me with the gift of float therapy. I had not heard of this before October 26th, 2015. I went online to check it out. It seemed harmless enough, a bit kooky, but altogether an innocuous enterprise. Unlike the cryotherapy, I was not anxious for this experience. Rather, I looked forward to floating in salt water for an hour. Unfortunately, I freaked out five minutes into it.
I arrived to Just Float in Pasadena fifteen minutes prior to my scheduled appointment. The decor was relaxing, the people spoke with soft voices, the mood was perfect for an hour of ease. A young man welcomed me in the lounge. He asked if I had floated before. Inadvertently, I replied, "yes" because I thought he was asking a general question. Only after I was whisked away to my pool, did I realize he was asking if I have ever floated at their locale. In which case, my answer would have been no. I walked through a maze of wide corridors to room number 8. The shower, doors, and pool were pointed out to me. The owner reiterated what to do when I was ready to begin my 60 minutes of floating. The key was to breathe. I thought myself ready, so I nodded my head and waved him away so I could begin.
I showered in warm water and opened the vault-like door to the pool. Once I settled into the one foot deep salt water, I noticed the temperature was cooler than my shower. I positioned myself in the middle and made sure I knew where I was located. I pushed the knob closest to me and closed my eyes. This caused the lights to dim. It was timed so that five minutes later the lights and spa music would shut off. Mind you, the spa music was already muted once my ears submerged into the water. However, I did not expect the sudden silence to jolt my eyes open. I panicked when I saw nothing but darkness. In those few minutes following, I battled claustrophobia. Without the sense of sight and sound, I relied on my sense of touch to center me. I found the two knobs and mentally reviewed everything I was told. Breathe. Focus on your breathing. I began to inhale and exhale rhythmically while I imagined topics to blog about. I calmed down and wondered how much time had elapsed. It terrified me that probably only 15 minutes had passed. I quickly focused on soothing topics-- math, books, blog posts, cryotherapy-- and was soon lulled to a certain level of calm. Of course that took mental energy to maintain. But maintain I did! Once I started to get used to floating in the dark without sound, the lights dimly shone and the spa music began to echo through the room. I smiled and jumped up, ready to shower off the salt and return to a life full of sound and color. Once I stepped out of the pool and into a hot shower, I was happy! I was happy to see my colorful belongings and hear the pitter patter of hot shower water hit the floor. I relished in the sound of my footsteps when I left.
Bottom line: It takes a certain type of person to love this form of therapy. Personally, I found it claustrophobic. I was later told that I need to learn to "not think." Once I do so, I can begin to "hallucinate and really enjoy the experience." To that, a smirking emoji can probably best express my thoughts.
Needless to write, I prefer the cryotherapy over float therapy. But I do not want to diminish its value to others who find it relaxing. Whatever floats your boat.
:)
For my birthday, my lab buddy presented me with the gift of float therapy. I had not heard of this before October 26th, 2015. I went online to check it out. It seemed harmless enough, a bit kooky, but altogether an innocuous enterprise. Unlike the cryotherapy, I was not anxious for this experience. Rather, I looked forward to floating in salt water for an hour. Unfortunately, I freaked out five minutes into it.
I arrived to Just Float in Pasadena fifteen minutes prior to my scheduled appointment. The decor was relaxing, the people spoke with soft voices, the mood was perfect for an hour of ease. A young man welcomed me in the lounge. He asked if I had floated before. Inadvertently, I replied, "yes" because I thought he was asking a general question. Only after I was whisked away to my pool, did I realize he was asking if I have ever floated at their locale. In which case, my answer would have been no. I walked through a maze of wide corridors to room number 8. The shower, doors, and pool were pointed out to me. The owner reiterated what to do when I was ready to begin my 60 minutes of floating. The key was to breathe. I thought myself ready, so I nodded my head and waved him away so I could begin.
I showered in warm water and opened the vault-like door to the pool. Once I settled into the one foot deep salt water, I noticed the temperature was cooler than my shower. I positioned myself in the middle and made sure I knew where I was located. I pushed the knob closest to me and closed my eyes. This caused the lights to dim. It was timed so that five minutes later the lights and spa music would shut off. Mind you, the spa music was already muted once my ears submerged into the water. However, I did not expect the sudden silence to jolt my eyes open. I panicked when I saw nothing but darkness. In those few minutes following, I battled claustrophobia. Without the sense of sight and sound, I relied on my sense of touch to center me. I found the two knobs and mentally reviewed everything I was told. Breathe. Focus on your breathing. I began to inhale and exhale rhythmically while I imagined topics to blog about. I calmed down and wondered how much time had elapsed. It terrified me that probably only 15 minutes had passed. I quickly focused on soothing topics-- math, books, blog posts, cryotherapy-- and was soon lulled to a certain level of calm. Of course that took mental energy to maintain. But maintain I did! Once I started to get used to floating in the dark without sound, the lights dimly shone and the spa music began to echo through the room. I smiled and jumped up, ready to shower off the salt and return to a life full of sound and color. Once I stepped out of the pool and into a hot shower, I was happy! I was happy to see my colorful belongings and hear the pitter patter of hot shower water hit the floor. I relished in the sound of my footsteps when I left.
Bottom line: It takes a certain type of person to love this form of therapy. Personally, I found it claustrophobic. I was later told that I need to learn to "not think." Once I do so, I can begin to "hallucinate and really enjoy the experience." To that, a smirking emoji can probably best express my thoughts.
Needless to write, I prefer the cryotherapy over float therapy. But I do not want to diminish its value to others who find it relaxing. Whatever floats your boat.
:)
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