My Introduction to Cold Water Therapy

Chronic pain. Headaches. A dramatically altered lifestyle. For my friend, it was a living nightmare. Over the years, he’d assembled a rolodex of healthcare practitioners that would rival any professional athlete, with nothing seeming to stick.

In high school we battled side-by-side on the lacrosse field where he took two serious hits to the head—the likely culprit behind his pain. Fast forward twenty years, and guess what provides him with the most reliable form of relief? Not prescriptions or fancy treatments. Cold water therapy. Yep—submerging himself in 48° water became his regular routine to reset when things flare up.

My first time trying cold water therapy

In 2014, both of us living in the Bar Area, he invited me to try it. I wasn’t exactly lining up for the challenge. At the time, it took me a solid five minutes to ease into a 75-degree pool. My first instinct was a hard pass. But this was pitched to me during a time when, despite having my sobriety under control, I was still dealing with regular bouts of depression and anxiety. Not one to be outdone by a friend, I found myself facing a 30-day cold water challenge. 
Let me be honest—cold water immersion can be brutal. There’s no sugar-coating it. The first time I stepped into that frigid shower, it was pure chaos. I gasped, I shook, and my brain sprinted through every curse word imaginable. I flailed like a fish out of water.

But then, around the 45-second mark, something shifted. My breathing slowed, tension eased, and an unexpected calm settled in. The transition between panic and peace was profound. When I stepped out, shivering and purple, I was humbled…but proud. I hadn’t quit. Perhaps most notable, I felt conscious in a way I hadn't experienced for years. 
My journey took another turn when I discovered my converted motel apartment building in San Francisco had a working-but-dilapidated sauna tucked down one of the hallways. For months I tinkered with a kind of circuit between the two vessels, reading as much as I could about sauna bathing and cold water immersion.   

Since then, here’s what I’ve learned: Exposing oneself to safe levels of discomfort can have profound effects—some we can explain, while others we simply have to experience. Packaged as a practice, the physical and psychological resilience seems to spill into every aspect of life. Oh, and the cold never gets easier—you just get better at handling it. 

Thoughts on beginning your own practice

• Start small—cold showers are a gateway, but if you live somewhere warm, your “cold” shower might be a tepid hug. Fill a tub with ice.
• Aim for 3 minutes if you’re a rookie—it’s enough to challenge you, but not break you.
• And of course, if you’ve got heart conditions or serious health concerns, talk to your doctor first. Safety first, bravery second.

Cold water therapy isn’t about seeking discomfort—it’s about finding clarity, calm, and resilience on the other side of it. And sometimes, the hardest part is just stepping in.

—Andrew Lachlan, 2025