I am standing in a bikini in teeth-chattering temperatures. Minus eighty-seven degrees Celsius, to be completely accurate… Small snowflakes dust my eyelashes while my skin goose-pimples in protest at the blasts of freezing air that whoosh around me inside a small, sci-fi style chamber. Have I lost my mind? Why on earth am I doing this, I wonder, as I simultaneously curse my dear friend, Jeannie D, for recommending this treatment in the first place. ‘Cryotherapy is incredible,’ she told me. ‘It’s really helped to reduce my inflammation and anxiety.’
That sounded like the perfect solution for my on-again, off-again sciatica and busy, busy mind. But I’m a journalist, so before I willingly signed up to freeze my ass off, I did a bit of research. It turned out that Jeannie was not wrong. Whole-body cryotherapy (WBC), as it is called, is no faddish craze. It’s recommended the world over by medical professionals to assist in the treatment of debilitating pain and inflammation-based diseases, disorders, and skin conditions.
“Athletes love having cryo before and after heavy training sessions, and we’ve also seen good results in weight and mental health management,’ says Sam Divaris, owner of the Cryo By Coco treatment centre in Cape Town. That’s all well and good, but I still feel a little anxious as I undress and change into my bikini, pull on my protective socks-n’-Crocs, gloves, mask and fuzzy, blue-tooth headband, and step into the snug cryotherapy chamber.
“Don’t look so worried,” laughs Zaza Abrahams, my friendly therapist. “It only lasts three minutes, the chamber door doesn’t lock, and I’ll check on you all the time.” Still, as she shuts me in, and the freezing blizzard starts blizzarding, both my body and brain go into instant shock. I know this is the whole point. That exposing my body to the extreme cold will force it to jump start into an accelerated repair mode, but fork it, this is cold!
To cope, I turn the volume of my Buddha Beats playlist up and close my eyes, determined to sagely meditate my way through this. ‘You’ve completed one minute,’ Zaza calls. ‘All okay in there?’ I nod, zen-like, and wave her away. The thing with meditating, however, is that you need to breathe deep and slow. A difficult thing to do at sub-zero temperatures when your lungs are a little, erm, panicked. I abandon my zen and start jumping up and down.
“Two minutes! You’ve got this, girl. Only a minute to go,” Zara yells. I can barely see my cheerleader through the icy blizzard now but give her my most upbeat thumbs up and a slightly maniacal grin as I run on the spot. “Thirty seconds,” I hear Zara shout. By this stage, I’ve switched to hard-core trance and must look like a crazy, middle-aged raver as I wildly gyrate my body about, wave my arms in the air like I just don’t care, and shake the snowflakes out of my hair.
And then it’s over. The blizzard stops blizzarding. The door swishes open. And I step out into the warmth, feeling slightly dazed but smiling from ear to ear. “That was nuts!” I tell Zaza. Nuts, but so good. My mind is crystal clear. My body light, zingy and loose-limbed. That feeling lasts well into the next day and I cruise through a couple of tight writing deadlines while also easily juggling teenagers, husband and home.
Was it fun? Not in the moment, no. But I suspect that achieving that feeling could become an addictive challenge, especially when the proven health benefits far outweigh three short minutes of relative discomfort. I’ve already booked my next session; and think it’s safe to say that if you’re looking for me around deadline time, you might want to check the closest blizzard chamber.
Want to try freezing your ass off? Get 10% off your Whole Body Cryotherapy booking at Cryo by Coco in CPT or JHB when you use the promo code JEANNIEOUS to book via WhatsApp on +27 63 610 1000.
*** Ts&Cs: Valid until end January 2025. One promo per person.