On TikTok, on Instagram—everywhere really—there’s a new kind of Guy.
There is always a new kind of guy out there. Historically, but especially in the past five years, men have begun to coagulate—merge, if you will—around individual, unified identities that bind them in real and virtual spaces.
We have video game buddies. Craft Beer Guys. Reddit Guys and Jiu-Jitsu Guys. We even have [shudder] bring jays Endless parade… guys. Recently, in the year 2022, we got to know men’s wife.
Now, I would like to introduce you to the final boss of Guys: Ice Bath Guys.
If you’ve spent any time on social media, in particular Instagram or Tik TokYou will see this man in his natural environment. At four in the morning, he comes out of his cave. He stands—usually almost naked—next to an expensive tub, bucket, or barrel filled with ice and water. He sets up his camera, because they always have a camera. He’s communicating to this camera, in clichéd terms, about grinding, about winning the day, about fighting his baser instincts so he doesn’t get up early and engage in unhinged behaviors.
Then he dives in—completely submerged in the ice water, shivering as he vomits more vulgarities. “Convenience is your enemy” or “Butter your mind.” Like this.
The Ice Bath Guy has conquered his demons, he’s stronger, he’s better, he’s recovering faster, he’s feeling good, he’s the master of his domain and of his own mind because – at this invalid hour – he climbed clumsily into this cold body of water and remained still for a fixed time .
He has become the ultimate man. ice bath man.
On a strange, memorable day, I also became the ice bath man.
Let me explain.
It all started with a cold shower. The cold shower challenge was my gateway drug. to Throughout 2022, I’ve been a cold shower guy. For 12 straight months, I gave up warm water and took only showers of cold water. Why? I’m still not entirely sure. It was an impulsive thing, a temporary brain ailment from which I have since recovered. My inner talk suggested a cold shower was a good idea and I went with it. Months later, I’m still not sure it was helpful.
My friends started jokingly calling me Wim Hof – After the Dutch motivational speaker, he’s known worldwide for his intense ice-related endurance challenges.
So this March, when Huff — aka the Iceman — arrived in my hometown of Sydney to give a series of clinics, those same friends thought it would be funny (and thoughtful) to buy me a ticket. A pass to attend an ice bath symposium, hosted by Hof himself.
Like a confused, shivering Pokémon, I was about to evolve from a little cold shower guy… into a fully grown ice shower guy.
snowman
Yes, that is the Sydney Harbor Bridge in the background.
Mark Serells/CNET
Located in Sydney, within walking distance of the Harbor Bridge, Luna Park is like Six Flags stripped back by a factor of 10.
It’s a low-rent amusement park, a great selection of attractions and mock tests of skill. An establishment that has a fair amount of nostalgia for Australians over a certain age. But in the year 2023, it’s a warped anachronism of a different place and time, where peddlers and pets reign supreme. It also – oddly enough – regularly hosts business conferences and motivational speakers.
Here, on a seething Friday afternoon, Hof is in the process of giving his “safety briefing,” frantically pacing back and forth in front of a crowd of hundreds, cracking jokes, and shouting things like “we can change the world.”
Hof is 63 years old. It’s a little more natural than I expected. Well, it is, and it is not.
Unlike TikTok influencers who climb into ice baths at 4 a.m., Hof isn’t ripped or shredded. He is short and stubby, with sparse hair and a shaggy beard. Wearing an ill-fitting T-shirt and flip flops, he doesn’t look like a motivational speaker—he looks like an Australian guy grabbing a hot dog roll at a local gas station.
He’s also crazy. In a good way, I think.
“Ice is your mirror,” he says mysteriously.
Ice is your mirror… damn it.
I found myself drawn in with the crowd. “Yes!” I started thinking to myself. “Ice is kind of reflective. Maybe it can be a mirror, right? Maybe we can change the world by climbing into a very cold body of water.”
Huff has that feeling.
He shouted, “See you at Ice Baths.” He’s been on stage for about two minutes. This was our safety briefing. That’s all Hof needed to convince me and everyone present that ice was a mirror and we could change the world by jumping.
Almost immediately, everyone walked out of the conference hall into Luna Park.
Surrounded by Ferris wheels, string floss, and the faint smell of popcorn, I was about to partake in my first ice bath.
The ice bath comes
Of all the queues at Luna Park that day, the ice bath with Huff was by far the longest.
The irony did not escape me. It had that same roller coaster energy waiting for you. This vague feeling of fear. Vibrant team action. Long ass wait for a very tentative experience. I doused in sunscreen in my mini swimming shorts, baked in the hot Australian sun, and popped into a little hove and a number of temporary inflatable pools – filled with cold water and copious amounts of ice.
The biggest surprise was the crowd itself. I was expecting a solid mix of fitness-savvy Ice Bath Guys and barefoot hippies in canvas. What I got was different. There were women – many women. Maybe it was a 50-50 split.
It was the longest queue in the park.
Mark Serells/CNET
I have to chat. Mae, a personal trainer, became a fan of Hof after watching the videos on YouTube and headed to Luna Park between client meetings to try an ice bath for the first time. Another woman—middle-aged, defiant of jokes all the time—was here in Dare. This was a once in a lifetime experience for her, and I suspect many feel the same way. Weirdly, the Ice Bath Guys mostly stayed at home.
In fact, after I got to the front of the queue and gave Hof a big hug (everyone did – I suppose it’s part of the package), I noticed that all 10 people in my group in the ice bath represented a diverse cross-section of Australia’s population. Men and women, young and old, of different races and backgrounds. We gave each other a quick glance, the kind of eye contact you share when you’re about to embark on something completely stupid.
And after that, we climbed into the ice bath together.
It was cool. clearly. But a different kind of cold. The kind of cold that makes your body feel like it’s burning. Hof’s primary area of expertise is helping his students breathe, and by climbing into this ice bath, I immediately understood why. It was incredibly difficult to inhale and exhale normally in this situation. Instinctively, I thought taking long, deep breaths would make it easier for me to cope, but it didn’t help at all.
The only thing that made things more bearable was the exhale. I pick a point on the horizon to contemplate and stare into space, waiting for the two minutes to be up, so I can get out of this frozen hell and live the rest of my normal life in peace.
But then, in the last 30 seconds, a fever dream. Hof holding a microphone or speaker. Perhaps it was the brute strength of his voice that pushed him to his limits. He began to chant and shout at full speed like a call-and-response preacher:
“Who set the dogs free?”
Everyone in unison:
“OOH OOH OOH OOH!”
“Who set the dogs free?”
“OOH OOH OOH OOH!”
We replied like men. Bahaa men. Then it’s all over. We got out of the ice bath and wrapped ourselves in towels. I felt… okay? comfortable. proud? maybe. I found myself laughing. This was hysterical. Every part of this was hysterical. For now, the roller coaster is over.
ice king
History is full of examples of humans forcing themselves through unimaginable rituals of torture. In Papua New Guinea, men cut elongated patterns on their backs, chests, and buttocks to signify their coming of age. Some tribes, including Aboriginal people here in Australia, have practiced circumcisions that are unspeakably brutal. Many of these traditions are designed to instill a strong bond of trust in the members of the tribe. If they can take the pain of removing nails, tattooing, or mutilating a penis, they can be trusted with clan secrets.
Perhaps ice baths are a very gentle version of the same motive. That or a distorted combination of junk science, placebo effects, and toxic masculinity.
I have two sons, 10 and 7 years old. During the cold shower year, they both thought it was funny to also take a cold shower, to see who could stay longer, trying to outdo each other. My 7 year old son stayed home for 15 minutes and – cheerfully – started calling himself “The Ice King”.
I was bullied by my kids. As usual.
Mark Serells/CNET
But when I got home that night, my 10-year-old was even more excited when I told him about ice baths. He wanted to see if he could last two minutes like I did. This weekend, the temperature in Sydney hit 100 degrees Fahrenheit. While driving home from a friend’s birthday party with my son, I stopped to get petrol and had a sudden brainwave.
“Should we buy some ice packs and make an ice bath at home?”
My son’s eyes lit up. I had to.
We got home and made a makeshift pool in our bathtub and took turns running in, screaming and laughing hysterically. It wasn’t as cold as Hof’s bath, but it was still freezing with blood. A healthy and harmless kind of torture (I think) engenders little resilience in children. He climbed into the cold shower and sat there for two minutes even though it was very hard. However, he still refuses to eat broccoli.
But I asked myself: why are we doing this? Why am I kind of encouraging him? A quick Google search for “kid-friendly ice baths” quelled initial fears, but bigger questions began to haunt me. Am I raising the next generation of men? A new wave of boys engaging in pointless (often painful) activities to fill the massive black void of validation?
My youngest child – who is called Snow King – was in the shops with my wife. I called them on facetime and told them about the ice bath. My wife agreed to get a few ice packs on the way home so we could put son #2 through our new family ritual.
“Okay,” I tell my 7-year-old on the phone. “Let’s see who the real Ice King is.”
shoot it.
But later, when he got home, he seemed less enthusiastic. He carefully dipped his finger, trying to get a sense of what it might be. He was very hesitant.
He said, “Go first, father.”
I replied: “I have already entered.”
“If you come in, Daddy, I’ll come in. Pinky promise.”
I felt like I had no other choice. I had to lead by example. To prove that you can (and sometimes should) do hard things. We swore pinky on it. Then I went back to the bathroom, like a complete idiot.
This time it was cold. Properly cool. Easily as cold as the ice bath at Luna Park. My limbs stopped. Every ligament and bone hurts. It made noises, sinister sounds. I was in hell. My son, laughing like a deranged Demogorgon, found this very funny.
Finally, my flour is over. I clumsily got out of the shower, still in physical pain.
“Your turn,” I said, my body still trembling.
He replied, “Nah.” “I do not want it.
He left the bathroom and launched Roblox on his Nintendo Switch.
“What do you mean?” I screamed, chasing after him, a battered, broken old man.
He finally said, “I’m fine.” This boy does not need validation. He had no void to fill.
You can be the Ice King.
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