For as long as I can remember, this little voice has always been in my head.
It’s not an evil sound. He doesn’t convince me to commit murder or rob banks. No, this voice is about making me do stupid things. When you were a kid, he might say something like, “I bet you couldn’t run to that point on the horizon without stopping.” or “I bet you can’t undo that precarious edge.”
We all have inner voices, but my “bet you can’t” voice has been a part of my makeup for as long as I can remember. All in all, it is a net positive. It usually forces me to eat well and exercise. Today, at 41, I am mostly healthy and well.
Thanks in part to a sound that often survives to this day. always the same…
“I bet you can’t run a marathon,” or “You bet you can’t learn a second language,” or “I bet you can’t stop drinking soda.” The voice is my friend for the most part, but sometimes it leads me astray. Once I make a file A sleep experience that sent my mind into a tailspin. This is probably the worst thing the little voice has ever told me.
second worst? Cold shower. Please let me tell you why I have taken nothing but cold showers for the entire year of 2022.
It was the end of 2021. My wife and I were staying for the Christmas break. Twenty people in each place. We had a good time, made fun, but there were issues. Mainly logistics. My house has two Duchenne. One indoor shower – a very normal shower with hot water – and a less normal outdoor shower that only came with cold water.
To make things easier for the guests, I started taking a shower outside. Cold shower.
It was relatively easy at first. I stood in the showers for five minutes at a time and came out shaking and proud.
Christmas was a buzz in the middle of summer in Sydney, Australia, where I live, so for the most part that was fine. It was hot, often over 110F. Sometimes I would go for a run, get sweaty and irritable and take a dip in the cold shower. Ointment, pure relief.
That’s when the little voice popped into my head…
“Hey little bitch, I bet you can’t take a cold shower all year long…”
Stupid voice brain moron
You may have heard of the “health benefits” of taking a cold shower. According to the research, there are more than a few good reasons to take it.
one study Reports suggest that by increasing the availability of endorphins and another hormone, norepinephrine, taking a cold shower can relieve symptoms of depression. (A clear warning here: I absolutely don’t think depression can be cured with cold water.)
Other studies reported Strengthens the immune systemAnd Improve physical recovery after exercise And Reduce inflammation. Giovanna Mallucci, a professor of neuroscience formerly of the UK’s Dementia Research Institute, claims to have I found the “cold shock” protein.found in the blood of regular winter swimmers, which can slow the onset of dementia.
But to be completely honest, none of these reported benefits were in my conscious thoughts when I committed to cold showers for an entire calendar year. I was just listening to the sound.
As a middle-aged man, saddled with decades of ingrained toxic masculinity who equates overcoming physical and mental conflict with inner strength, I enjoy putting myself through ridiculous “challenges” for the sake of it. This is my character. I’m too old to change now. When the voice speaks, I listen, and always obey.
My Kinky Outdoor Shower. Where it all began.
Mark Serells/CNET
Part of me hoped that a cold shower would help boost my metabolism or recover faster from training (I’m an avid rock climber), but mostly I wanted to try something different. To have something new to talk about when the conversation dried up at school pickups. I am a shallow man with shallow needs.
Mostly I think it pays to do something challenging every day for the complete satisfaction of completing that task. An ego boost, it sets the tone and has an invigorating effect that has the power to resonate for the rest of that day.
So I started.
It was relatively easy at first. In my experience, most challenges are like this. Filled with the psyche of trying something new, I stood in the showers for five minutes at a time and came out shivering and proud. I entered the bathroom like a madman, frantically rubbing my stomach like a hysterical park looking for ticks. I just devoured it.
What became more challenging later was grinding—committing to a few after my initial enthusiasm waned. Imagine yourself stinking and exhausted after a long hard day at work, and suddenly remembering that you need to take a shower before going to bed. This is when temptation begins, when it is justified to take a warm bath or to stand for 15 minutes in a hot bath.
But I cried, often on the verge of angry tears, breaching the Baltic waters and withering genitals.
Yes, take that. I’m sure I showed you, stupid little stupid brain voice.
easy mode
I have a strict cold shower routine that i follow every time without fail. It was not a process that I consciously developed. It appeared naturally in a petri dish in the cold bath survival position.
It goes like this: I turn on the shower. get naked I stand in front of the cold splashing water for a few seconds contemplating my choices in life. In some ways, this is the worst part: pre-shower. This is when you have to make the ‘choice’.
I’m taking two steps forward. No wetting of the face or hair at this juncture, just pain and unintelligible grunts for about 20 seconds. Then I turned around. This is always the hardest part. The large flat surface of my back displays the highest percentage of cold water nerve endings. But once that is done? I’m mostly good. I get the soap, start washing. I turn to wash off the soap, dip my head and hair. I cook. Everything is okay.
I suppose the water in my brother-in-law’s shower was coming straight from the snow-capped icy mountains that surrounded us.
Unfortunately, I soon found out that Australian cold showers are an “easy situation”.
I discovered while on a business trip to New York in March that not all cold water is created equal. My soft summer body was crucified by the freezing waters of New York winter. I was shocked to my core. I couldn’t believe how cold it was. But I persisted, clumsily squeezing my single-serve hotel shower gel as I promptly ran around like a bemused caveman, trying to somehow turn my internal temperature into something tolerable.
Later in the year things got worse.
In October, I went on a family trip to the southern part of Chile, where I assume the water in my brother-in-law’s shower was coming straight from the snow-capped glaciers that surrounded us. The water in Chile was so Baltic, I’d get a brain freeze if I stayed too long. complete torment.
On this day, I really wanted to take a warm shower.
Osiel Acuvik
The closest I came to saving the cold water challenge was during that trip.
We had just returned from a once-in-a-lifetime experience: climbing the summit of Villarrica, one of Chile’s most active volcanoes. It was brutal. It took us eight hours to get to the top and nearly four hours to get back up, navigating snow and icy conditions the entire time. We were prepared for the extremes, the bars, the ice axes, and it was a real struggle to get to the top. On the way down, everyone eagerly discussed going home and hopping into a nice warm bath. My heart sank. I knew I was going to starve from this well-earned thermal feast.
My family was shocked when I said I was still planning to take a cold shower that night. They said “you can definitely have hot water this time”.
But they did not know the limits of my stubborn stupidity. I’ve spent almost a year doing this stupid shit, and I wasn’t going to break my streak because I got a little cold. But I can’t lie – I doubt my cold shower lasted more than a minute that night. It is enough to brush it off and push it out, in the false consolation of a dry towel and a steaming cup of hot tea.
but why?
The question I always get is, “Why?” Outside of “the voices told me,” I still don’t have a good answer to that.
Have you felt any long-term benefits? I’m not sure. This is a single sample size experiment. I haven’t taken much sick leave in 2022, but outside of that, I’m not convinced that cold showers have changed anything. I’m not convinced they aid recovery, or treat dementia, or whatever is written on the tin.
Was it worth? of course not. Do I recommend taking a cold shower? Nah. prominence no.
Am I going to stop taking cold showers anytime soon? I’m still not sure. Oddly enough, I think I will continue.
Am I contradicting myself here? definitely. But my feelings about this cold shower experience are complex and rooted in strange thoughts about trying hard things and not giving up, even if there’s no good reason to move on. Basically, I’ve watched a lot of anime.
The question I always get is, “Why?” Outside of “the voices told me,” I still don’t have a good answer to that.
The simple truth is: I have never regretted a single cold shower. I always felt better right after that. Wake up, happiest. Some people have suggested it will help my skin, make my hair…better? thicker? silky? I don’t know. Maybe it was my imagination, but my skin looked clearer, better, and softer. I suspect.
Most importantly, after a cold shower, I always felt like I had achieved something. I’ve never felt that groggy feeling you get when you’ve been in a hot bath for too long. It was good to do something difficult. That was nice.
In some ways, a cold shower makes me happy. I suspect.
But I also think that willpower is limited. Could the mental energy needed to endure a year’s worth of cold showers make it difficult to achieve the other, less stupid goals I set for myself in 2022? Is it a coincidence that I [checks notes] Gained 10 to 12 pounds in weight, felt significantly more anxious and exercised over the same period? It is impossible to say.
Part of me believes that the grit with which I enjoyed daily cold showers left my reserves of willpower wanting, making it more difficult to continue eating healthy, or heading to the gym regardless of my motivation levels. Normally, those were habits that she followed without question. this year? Not much.
Regardless, I know I’m going to have a hard time stopping. At this point, cold showers are an ingrained habit, and I know my inner voice will resist going back to normal. As dumb as it sounds, taking a warm shower would feel like cheating on the faint voice in my head. I guess one year might not be enough for that little bastard.
Because eventually these things become normal. Like quitting sugar or caffeine, taking a cold shower is hard, especially in the beginning, and the effort required to maintain the habit doesn’t really go away, but it does. It’s much easier now. Cold showers are not necessarily a challenge anymore; What was once an active struggle is just noise. Low frequency hum you hardly notice until someone turns it off.
This is where I am. For the foreseeable future, I’m a cold shower guy. Thank you, stupid little voice in my head. Thanks for nothing. And maybe all.
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