The Ice Bath Experiment

I didn’t start with a cold shower. In fact, I hated the idea. Still do. Showers are supposed to be warm, right? Comfortable. Civilised.

But I’ve always loved being near the sea. We live on an island, after all. Swimming in the sea was just something we did now and again – not regularly, not for any particular reason. It was more instinct than intention. I never paid attention to the temperature of the water. It was either cold or it wasn’t. Simple.

I didn’t know the difference between a “fresh” swim in August and an actual 5°C plunge in January. I definitely didn’t know there were levels to cold water therapy. Ice bath? Cryo chamber? Different immersion temperatures? Not a clue.

We’d also watched the Wim Hof TV programme ‘Freeze the Fear’ together as a family and were genuinely intrigued by it. The idea of using cold to build mental resilience really stuck with us – even if it did still seem slightly mad.

But for Christmas 2022, I bought us an ice bath. Not just for me – for the whole family. The logic being: if I was going to suffer, they might as well too.

I also booked us all tickets for a Wim Hof Experience – me, Sarah, and Josh. One rule: we wouldn’t even unpack the ice bath until we’d done the experience properly and learned what the hell we were doing.

So, one chilly morning in January, we packed up the car like we were going on a polar expedition. Dry robes, hoodies, swim gear, and enough snacks to fuel a rugby team. We were only driving ten minutes up the road, but it felt like a thing – and we weren’t going to bail.

We had to get special permission for Josh to take part, since he was only 16. But he’s a keen sportsman and already had some experience with cryo chambers through college, so he got the nod.

The session was more than just an ice bath. Way more. It took place in this incredible tent set up in the middle of a forest. Funky lighting, yoga mats, the smell of cacao and incense in the air. We joined a group of strangers and kicked things off with an icebreaker (pun fully intended).

We talked, laughed, shared stories. Then came the “lesson” – a proper breakdown of what cold therapy is, how it works, why it’s good, and what not to do unless you want to pass out or freeze something important.

Then came breathwork. And honestly? That part took me deeper than I’d ever gone before – but that’s a story for another post. We did a cacao ceremony. We hugged strangers. And then it was time.

Time for the ice.

We got changed into our swimwear. They asked for a volunteer to go first. And somehow, that was me.

Looking back, I realise that was probably a good thing. If I’d stood there watching other people go in, seeing their faces, hearing the gasps, I might’ve overthought it. Not bottled it – I’d still have done it – but I’d have suffered a lot more in my head. That’s how I work. I’m either first or last, never in the middle. But that’s another story for another day.

So there I was. Swim shorts on. Standing next to this metal tub loaded with giant blocks of ice, in 4°C weather, thinking, what have I signed us up for?

They put on a track to get me going: Jolene by Dolly Parton. Not exactly Metallica, but now permanently my go-to ice bath anthem. It still brings me strength.

I stepped in. Sat down. Cold? Obviously. But I followed the breathing instructions: big, strong inhale… slow, controlled exhale. No puffing. No panic. Control the breath. Be bigger than the ice.

I got out. We started the warm-up routine – jumping, shaking, getting the heat back from the inside out – and I felt… proud. Genuinely proud.

Then Sarah and Josh took their turns and absolutely nailed it. Cool as you like. I was so proud of them I could burst.

We all danced around with the rest of the group, warmed up, drank something hot, and came back together to share what it felt like.

On the way home, we couldn’t stop talking about it. About how alive we felt. How much we’d pushed through. How we were definitely, 100% going to set up the ice bath at home and do it every day from now on.

What a day.