Alright, here’s how I got back into (loving) the cold, and why I did it.

Normally, I don’t spill much about my personal life, but I figured, hey, even this is a form of hacking: hacking oneself. Hacking to me means really understanding something and making it better for your own well-being. In this case, I improved myself out of necessity, as often happens.

I used to be all about the cold: summers were spent in chilly places like Ireland, Norway… In winter, I’d hit the slopes for snowboarding, in the coldest, highest spots our area had to offer. But over the years, I started feeling the cold more, and since 2013, my vacations have been in warm countries I used to snub: Sicily, Puglia, Sardinia.

Winter of 2022 - 2023 was brutal for me. At one point, I had a moment of clarity: I realized I was dressing like my 85-year-old grandma, wearing two wool sweaters indoors and still shivering. Only difference? I was half her age. It was time to do something: either make peace with the cold again or pack up and move somewhere warm.

I started researching, looking for inspiration, until I stumbled upon an event poster that reminded me of Wim Hof’s approach, conveniently happening just down the road. I went to the presentation, not expecting much. There’s this guy, Daniele, showing up in a t-shirt and shorts. And there I am, layered up with two shirts and a jacket. Consistency is key for me, so props to him. Daniele starts talking about his journey, about how the cold works, about how it changed his life. By the end of the evening, I sign up for his program, which I like to sum up as: cold as a spiritual path.

A couple of months later, the training begins. I’m coming out of a particularly tough time, with some dreams shattered. Thanks to Daniele, who’s super knowledgeable, I understand that cold is a spiritual teacher: it demands respect and consistency.

Then comes the moment of truth: my first exposure to the cold water, 14°C water and about 18°C air temperature. I get in, and within seconds, my hands and feet are screaming. Daniele explains that my blood vessels are constricted and I need to train them, but the pain will subside after a few minutes. And it does.

The first big lesson: the pain eventually fades, leaving behind emptiness, peace. Knowing that pain eventually fades was like gaining a new self-awareness. It immediately brought to mind one of Buddha’s teachings: everything passes.

I sink into the water up to my neck. The cold feels like thousands of needles piercing my skin, stealing my breath. I endure for a few minutes and come out realizing I have a long way to go. But I’m committed: I don’t want to suffer from the cold anymore. I follow Daniele’s advice and start training with specific exercises.

Meanwhile, summer arrives, and I dip into 7°C water, but with much warmer outside temperatures.

Winter returns: the water at home is 9°C, and a cold shower in the morning becomes an act of pure willpower. No one’s forcing me, except myself. Like meditation, it’s a free act, except I can control the cold shower, not yet my thoughts in meditation. There are immediate benefits too: nothing wakes you up like a 9°C shower, no coffee can compete.

A year goes by, and I find myself back at the same spot as my first experience: water at 13.5°C, air temperature at 14.5°C. I’ve been craving warmth for weeks, but I persisted. I get into the water: it’s not warm, but it’s not cold either. No pain. I stay submerged for a good 20 minutes, in the pure silence that oasis provides. Time stops, thoughts cease.

I come out, warm up, and I’m happy with the result.

But there’s more: the cold has brought me a new energy, one I haven’t felt in ages. Now I understand the healing power of the cold: on the physical body, the mind, and the spirit.

References