Nudged: Take a cold shower

By Carolyn Weeks Carpenter, Guest Nudger

Oh, how I love finding a kindred spirit! Carolyn is a long-time Nudger, and I’m thrilled she agreed to lead us in this week’s Nudge. She chose this one from my own list, and frankly, I’m grateful: It quite likely would have been one I’d passed on, if given the chance. Let’s dive in, shall we? –Kathleen

If I’m ever going to take a cold shower, it will be because I’ve been challenged or nudged. I’d rather avoid bathing altogether than do something that sounds so chilly, Spartan, and uncomfortable. But then, why am I hearing so much buzz across all media about cold therapy for health? Social media posts of friends sitting in ice baths, books promoting it as a tool for longevity, storefronts offering the experience…. Why is this even a thing?

I have a distinct memory of a health class movie from my high school days titled “This is Joe’s Heart,” which followed Joe through his day highlighting everything that damaged his heart. Probably the only reason I remember this (as movies from that era are vague at best), is the cold shower he took and how it wasn’t good for his heart (aside from his sedentary and smoking habits).

I’ve never researched cold showers, but I’m curious. I took Kathleen’s offer to commit and document this Nudge. If so many people are singing the praises of cold therapy, maybe I just need to try it myself.

What Happened: I gotta be honest: This would be a Nudge I would modify into letting my feet get cold in the Pacific Ocean not far from home. Or I’d take a slightly cooler-than-normal shower. Or I’d go outside underdressed for the morning fog and make myself uncomfortable for a few minutes. But no, this will be a cold shower.

How our bodies work is important to me. I want to know things like how sleep affects memory, why fear affects pain, or how intermittent fasting helps with weight loss. Why would a cold shower be good for a body? I started with a few Google searches, read some anecdotal evidence, some theories, some methodologies, and published research. Then I realized I was using that research time to put off the inevitable. Just do it, Carolyn. 

But how? What counts as a cold shower? One minute? Five minutes? Okay, one more Google search yielded yet more conflicting information.

Just do it, Carolyn.

Maybe I just need to “take the plunge” and get uncomfortable. That’s it, I’m avoiding the uncomfortable. I need to embrace the uncomfortable, not just tolerate it.

Into the shower I go, with no firm plan, other than I’ll give it my best shot. I enter the stall, start and finish the usual lather-rinse-repeat routine, and now it’s time for frigid cold. I turn the valve all the way to cold.

NO!

I jump away from the water and turn the valve back to normal. This will have to be done gradually. I turn the valve one-third of the way to cold. How can I tolerate this? I must embrace the cold, not shy away from it.

I close my eyes and imagine I’m underneath a refreshing waterfall in paradise. I tell myself I will enjoy this imaginary once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to feel the cool, clean, water falling all over my body. I tell myself I want to feel the waterfall front and back, head to toe.

I open my eyes for a second and my imaginary world disappears on me, and I’m back to barely tolerating this experience. Persevering, I move the valve even colder and close my eyes again, attempting to get back to my make-believe microcosm.

Another minute passes under the undulating downpour. I hum Linkin Park’s  “…I’ve become so numb / I can’t feel you there …,” which is a stark contrast to the ethereal visual my mind is creating. And then, after my body adjusts to the cold…everything is unrealistically, irrationally fine. Cold and numb. Where the water was hitting me doesn’t matter anymore.

I open my eyes to reality and embrace—and enjoy!—the pelting pressure coming from the showerhead. I am no longer tolerating something uncomfortable; I am one with the water temperature. I let another minute pass, amazed that it doesn’t matter where the water goes; it feels the same all over.

I stand in disbelief for another minute. Let’s not waste water; time to get out. I wish I could say that this reveals a new sense of energy or enthusiasm, but my regular routine ensues, and I feel the same as I usually do when freshly cleaned up.

The Ah-Hahs: I am so glad I took this Nudge on by the horns. I needed a reminder to embrace the uncomfortable, a lesson I had learned before. I also learned that the uncomfortable part wasn’t the cold shower itself, it was merely the process of getting cold. Once my body adjusted, there was no discomfort. This is certainly something I would like to experiment with in the future!