Sky High on Health reports on nutritional, wellness, and green lyfe fads both crazy and helpful.
If Austin Powers taught me anything, it’s that shouting is a temporary side effect of the unfreezing process. He wasn’t wrong. Only three seconds out of the ice-cold Cryosauna and I am indeed having difficulty controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE. That’s because I am pumped—every muscle, every nerve ending, and every hair on my body has turned into a miniature icicle, standing up straight and fierce and ready to conquer the world. I am The Hulk and I’ve just walked through a wall. I am Muzzy and I have just eaten all the clocks in the world. And I am Mr. Freeze, invincible to all inclement weather.
To what do I owe these newfound superpowers? It’s Cryotherapy and it’s shagadelic, baby!
The Cryosauna—with its sleek cylindrical shape, futuristic mood lighting, and eerie white fog bubbling up like a cauldron from a certain Shakespearean play—looks like it’s about to take me back to the future. Though, its resemblance to a time machine may not only be in aesthetic: One of the benefits of the three-minute cold blast treatments is a reversal of the aging process. That's right, in addition to its most popular use as a treatment for muscle soreness and joint-related injuries and disorders, the cold of the cryosauna stimulates collagen production and revs your metabolism while decreasing inflammation, leaving you looking like a contestant in Toddlers & Tiaras when your years suggest otherwise.
KryoLife, on 57th Street, is the only place in New York City you can visit for these treatments. Rumor has it that the icing of injuries and cold-water immersion has been an effective recovery technique for athletes since Spartan-times. But, modern-day cryotherapy, which uses liquid nitrogen (and time machines) in replace of water, which can freeze muscles temporarily rendering them ineffective, was developed in Japan in the 1970s. By eliminating moisture, the risk of hypothermia is drastically reduced and the post-cryo lag-time is diminished. While widely regarded as a mainstream treatment in Europe for sports-related injuries, training, and degenerative joint disorders, the cryo-movement is still under-the-radar stateside. Perhaps that's why the cost is so steep, at $90 for one three-minute session! And, of course, like most things—long-term results are usually only seen with long-term use. For recovery from a specific injury or ailment like arthritis, one session a day for consecutive days until results are seen is recommended. For maintaining that "fountain of youth" glow, one session a week should do the trick. Translation: better start saving, honey!
The cryo-look is chic. Upon arrival, you are told to remove all your clothes except your underwear and to use the towel provided to dry any moisture on the skin—crucial for preventing frostbite. You are given white tube socks, white clogs, and a white robe (which comes off once inside the cryosauna). You also are given two pairs of white gloves to wear—the first a thin, flimsy pair with delicate fingers and the second a thick, wooly pair that better resembles oven mitts. Very avant-garde. Very The Leftovers.
As I prepare for my treatment, I think about those that have come before—will I enter now, only to exit 1,000 years later, preserved in perfect form à la Futurama? Or, will I meet the
If Austin Powers taught me anything, it’s that shouting is a temporary side effect of the unfreezing process. He wasn’t wrong. Only three seconds out of the ice-cold Cryosauna and I am indeed having difficulty controlling THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE. That’s because I am pumped—every muscle, every nerve ending, and every hair on my body has turned into a miniature icicle, standing up straight and fierce and ready to conquer the world. I am The Hulk and I’ve just walked through a wall. I am Muzzy and I have just eaten all the clocks in the world. And I am Mr. Freeze, invincible to all inclement weather.
To what do I owe these newfound superpowers? It’s Cryotherapy and it’s shagadelic, baby!
The Cryosauna—with its sleek cylindrical shape, futuristic mood lighting, and eerie white fog bubbling up like a cauldron from a certain Shakespearean play—looks like it’s about to take me back to the future. Though, its resemblance to a time machine may not only be in aesthetic: One of the benefits of the three-minute cold blast treatments is a reversal of the aging process. That's right, in addition to its most popular use as a treatment for muscle soreness and joint-related injuries and disorders, the cold of the cryosauna stimulates collagen production and revs your metabolism while decreasing inflammation, leaving you looking like a contestant in Toddlers & Tiaras when your years suggest otherwise.
KryoLife, on 57th Street, is the only place in New York City you can visit for these treatments. Rumor has it that the icing of injuries and cold-water immersion has been an effective recovery technique for athletes since Spartan-times. But, modern-day cryotherapy, which uses liquid nitrogen (and time machines) in replace of water, which can freeze muscles temporarily rendering them ineffective, was developed in Japan in the 1970s. By eliminating moisture, the risk of hypothermia is drastically reduced and the post-cryo lag-time is diminished. While widely regarded as a mainstream treatment in Europe for sports-related injuries, training, and degenerative joint disorders, the cryo-movement is still under-the-radar stateside. Perhaps that's why the cost is so steep, at $90 for one three-minute session! And, of course, like most things—long-term results are usually only seen with long-term use. For recovery from a specific injury or ailment like arthritis, one session a day for consecutive days until results are seen is recommended. For maintaining that "fountain of youth" glow, one session a week should do the trick. Translation: better start saving, honey!
The cryo-look is chic. Upon arrival, you are told to remove all your clothes except your underwear and to use the towel provided to dry any moisture on the skin—crucial for preventing frostbite. You are given white tube socks, white clogs, and a white robe (which comes off once inside the cryosauna). You also are given two pairs of white gloves to wear—the first a thin, flimsy pair with delicate fingers and the second a thick, wooly pair that better resembles oven mitts. Very avant-garde. Very The Leftovers.
As I prepare for my treatment, I think about those that have come before—will I enter now, only to exit 1,000 years later, preserved in perfect form à la Futurama? Or, will I meet the