Some think cryotherapy is hot, but it leaves this writer cold
Before we delve too deeply into this frigid story, let me be frank: I hate to be cold.
That said, one might wonder: “Elizabeth, why on earth would you even think about trying cryotherapy — a full-body wellness treatment that requires the immersion of one’s nearly naked body into liquid nitrogen cooled to sub-zero temperatures?”
Sigh. I do believe in the adage of trying everything at least once.
But, more interesting, this kind of therapy, devised in 1978 by Japanese rheumatologist Toshima Yamaguchi, is said to work wonders on relieving chronic body pain caused by inflammation. Over the years, top athletes like Kobe Bryant and LeBron James have sworn by cryotherapy’s chillingly good effects on their athletic performance.
There is anecdotal evidence that the icebathlike experience treats a host of chronic ailments, including arthritis, psoriasis, osteoporosis and several other auto-immune diseases. Some say cryotherapy improves sleep, helps with weight loss and helps improve overall mood.
But the Food and Drug Administration has yet to give cryotherapy its stamp of approval, citing the lack of scientific evidence supporting the claims.
Robin Gupta, 45, is the owner of Conshohocken’s friendly neighbourhood bar Guppy’s Good Times. In 2015, Gupta attended a Tony Robbins seminar. And Robbins started singing cryotherapy’s praises. He underwent a session nearly every day, and, Gupta said, “He told us it was the single-best thing you could do for your health. I wanted to find out everything I could about it.”
The facility closest to his home that offered cryotherapy was 45 minutes away, in Holland, Bucks County. After a few sessions, Gupta noticed he felt more calm and relaxed. He even felt an energetic rush. He was sleeping better and thinking more clearly.
In July 2016, Gupta opened the 1,400square-foot flagship Orange Cryo — now the official cryo home of Temple University’s football team and a few select Eagles and Flyers players — on Fourth Street between Northern Liberties and Old City.
Despite Orange Cryo’s frosty business practices, Gupta has created quite the cosy setup. There are hardwood floors; inside each locker are a pair of orange Crocs and a plush terry cloth bathrobe. Orange Cryo musclecooling creams line the shelves. The facial room is nestled in the back.
And in the right front corner of the space is the rather imposing, eight-foot stainless steel cryo sauna.
I’ve spent the better part of two years nursing an aggravated hip flexor, so I was game to see how cryotherapy would help. Still, I was terrified when I entered Orange Cryo one recent rainy afternoon.
After a quick rundown, I ducked into one of the changing rooms, where I removed my jewelry and peeled my clothes off down to my undies. I slipped on the Orange Cryo padded socks and gloves, wrapped myself in a robe, and tentatively walked out.
Vapour frothed. They told me it was minus 256 degrees Fahrenheit.
I took a deep breath. Got in. And quickly handed my bathrobe over.
Thirty seconds in. This isn’t bad. I think I can do it. A minute in. Hmmm. A minute and a half. Oh, God, this hurts. I want to get out. But I’m no punk. Store manager Mike Pacitti starts to talk to me. He goes in as often as he can, he says. Really? Oh and did you know Danny Simmons, the brother of hip-hop entrepreneur Russell (a serious cryo fan) and rapper Rev Run, is coming in later?
I love my fellow Hollis, Queens, brother and all, but now I’m starting to get angry. At 2 ½ minutes, the countdown starts. Ten seconds. They are handing my robe back. At exactly three minutes, I’m so out of there.
That night, I slept better than I had in recent weeks. As for my leg, it was a little achy right after. But the next morning, I did a vigorous sculpt practice at Core Power Yoga and the nagging pull was gone.