I spent the evening before my first and only cryotherapy session Googling "cryotherapy and death," "will I die from cryotherapy," and "cryotherapy contraindications." I was scared that I would be the one person in a million to tragically die after standing in a -264 degree chamber in pursuit of health and knowledge. Even so, I knew I had to try the trendy "miracle treatment," used by Cristiano Ronaldo, Demi Moore and Jennifer Aniston, that could burn up to 800 calories in a single session, reduce inflammation and release the burst of endorphins I craved.
So I emailed Dr. Carol Ewing Garber, the president of the American College of Sports Medicine, to ask if I would die a horrible death from the shock of exposure; she didn't know much about the whole-body cryotherapy I was planning on trying out, but compared the experience to "the Fins [as in Finland] who go into the sauna and then jump into the snow." OK. Fine.
When I finally arrived at the offices of KryoLife, the only organization to offer whole-body cryotherapy in New York City, my giddy terror subsided. The seventh floor suite basically looked like a small spa, with light wood floors and pale walls. I was greeted by Joanna Fryben, the CEO, and her business partner Eduardo Bohorquez. They were the only two people in the office at the time, and they did not seem like they were about to perform a life-ruining exercise, so I felt OK. Or I did, until I had to sign a four-page waiver promising that I didn't have one of the dozens of medical conditions that precluded me from participating (including high blood pressure, pregnancy and blood clots).
Fryben, a 40-year-old who could be in her 20s, learned about cryotherapy from doctors back in her home country, Poland. "My mom had knee replacement surgery," she told me. "This was recommended to her by a top orthopedic surgeon, and her recovery went so much faster— like, three to four times faster— and she felt 20 years younger, she lost weight; she loved all the side effects of it."
Fryben was also familiar with the treatment from her time as a competitive tennis player--it's super-popular among athletes as it reportedly helps speed up recovery. After her first session, she was immediately hooked. "I was warming up on a bike after my first treatment and I was listening to people raving about it," she said. "One thing they had in common: They had no wrinkles on their face. They were all just amazed by the results of whole-body cryotherapy. In Poland and I think in some other countries in Europe, it's covered by insurance. This isn't even questioned; it's a medical procedure."
But the treatment is only beginning to infiltrate American culture, largely by way of the celebrities that swear by it for its anti-aging benefits. Fryben agreed that she also uses cryotherapy for the cosmetic benefits.
I was led into a dressing room where I was instructed to put on what Fryben described as "the weirdest outfit" I'd ever wear: my own sports bra and underwear (no metal allowed), cotton gloves, socks and a bathrobe. I waited with Fryben, who stayed with me throughout the session, for the cryochamber to cool down to the requisite -264 degrees Fahrenheit. With every passing minute, I felt a growing sense that this was a terrible idea. But Fryben comforted me: "Every time I do this I have to pump myself up."
For all the pain that I was anticipating, there were a lot of potential benefits that Fryben was not afraid to promise: "You see transformation as soon as you get out of the cryochamber. You're bubbly; you have endorphin release; you're smiling. You're a little fearful before you go into the cryosauna but after three minutes you're friends with everybody."
She told me the story of a woman with "severe inflammation." "[She was] losing weight, just being tired of life in general, having difficulties walking, having difficulties coping with anything, even noise, because it was so painful," she explained. "Throughout the months, you see life coming back into her. She started to dress nicely, she started to put makeup on and be chatty and smiling. You discover this beautiful person who needed a little help with the disease. Whatever it was that caused the inflammation, I know that whole-body cryotherapy helped a lot because she went back to work."
I got into the contraption and removed my robe, but only because I had been promised salvation. The cryosauna is like a tube with a platform in the center that will elevate the patient so that his or her head sticks out of the top. I was told that I had to keep my face above the nitrogen gas, or else I'd pass out from oxygen deprivation. And with that, I rotated in circles for the longest two-and-a-half minutes of my life.
"It sounds like a miracle," Fryben had said when I asked how it could possibly promise so many benefits. "I think it's all based on the decrease of inflammation— I am not a doctor, though— and lower muscle spasticity. It's just overwhelming relaxation. I think that has an impact on cortisol levels, but obviously that's very general and there's more to it. The decreased inflammation definitely has an impact on our physical and mental state, and this is what the treatment was designed for."
Studies have shown that immersing oneself in extreme cold after physical activity can reduce soreness -- like one 2007 study that monitored men who took ice baths after vigorous exercise. The study found that although the men reported less soreness, the cold treatment did not significantly reduce muscle damage. Other studies have shown that while cryotherapy doesn't hurt, it also doesn't necessarily help in injury prevention or recovery.
In an interview with the New York Times in 2011, Alan Donnelly, a professor at the University of Limerick and co-author of a study on cryotherapy's use on athletes, was skeptical. "I just don't feel that the evidence base for WBC [Whole Body Cryotherapy] effectiveness is there yet," he said. "If WBC were a clinical treatment or a nutritional aid being put forward for FDA approval, my view is that it would not be approved."
Even still, because of its extreme simplicity and wide range of promised results, the treatment has been adopted by psychiatrists, spas, physical therapists and medical doctors. "It solves the Israeli-Palestinian crisis!" Fryben joked. "You cannot differentiate between the body and the mind because it's really all correlated and it all works together. As an athlete, I knew that if your mind-set is not right, your body will not follow, ever. That's how it works! It's not a miracle device, and it's not witchcraft."
Going into the experience, I somehow expected that my brain would be unable to process the extreme cold, that I might actually find the experience somehow bearable. It was not. I felt every follicle of hair in my leg grow for every second I was in the chamber--except my leg hair wasn't hair -- but, instead, millions of tiny needles poked through my tender, freezing skin. I laughed so that I didn't scream.
When I was finally released from my freezing hell, I definitely felt giggly and exhilarated, as promised, but mostly because I was surprised I hadn't perished. I put on my clothing and got on the exercise bicycle in the main room of the center so that my joints didn't freeze. To be honest, I didn't feel that different — but I remain hesitant to say that it's all hype, when so many people swear by the treatment. Maybe it's just because I wasn't particularly enflamed.
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