brrrr...it's cold out here...
...there must be some Horns in the atmosphere...
And that's what I was singing to myself as I immersed myself in a bath full of water and ice. Yes, I know what I'm doing. No, I'm not crazy. There is a point to it. But man alive - it's hard to convince yourself that something is good for you when it's that painful and uncomfortable.
Ice baths. It was a concept that was introduced to me when I was a Pronghorn. You sit in a bath of ice water for 10 (or more) minutes with as much of your body immersed in the water as you can. Excrutiating. Pain - all out shooting pain for the first two minutes not to mention being short of breath (that's when you know you have it cold enough), pins and needles for the next six along with the shivering (part in parcel for probably shock from playing 80 minutes of rugby), and if you're lucky to get to minute eight - things just kind of numb out. The worst part for myself were my feet...I hate my feet and ankles being cold and so i would wear my rugby socks into the bath just to take the bite off of the water.
The point of them? It shunts the blood away from your extremities and away from the surface area of your body and to your vital organs, slows down swelling in all injured areas, and increases the rate of healing so that the next day you can walk around feeling less like roadkill and a little more like the truck. Ice baths were a vital part to surviving tournament play in university. Even when we hosted tournaments at home - there were assigned houses where we would have to take the baths. Really, there should have been posters made: "Pronghorns win games - Ice Baths win championships".
Ten minutes...doesn't seem long, right? Some of the longest minutes of my life. There were more baths than not where I didn't think I could make the 10 minutes. But as a Horn - they were mandatory after every game. And bless those hearts of the girls who never even played - most of them would take an ice bath just to support the rest of us. I can't even imagine what the hotel staff and our unfortunate neighbors thought of us after games because of all of the noise and racket we would make. Shrieking and yelling because it was borderline unbarable but there was another piece that generated noise...the moral support. Literally - we'd gather about 5 players to a room and be with each other, cheering each other on through the 10 minutes (we'd obviously be in our sports bras and spandies). I don't think I could have done it without two or three girls telling me that it would be okay and holding each other's hands through it.
So here I was...Saturday night...staring at my tub filling with ice water...ice cubes still floating in it. The water had a bluish tint to it - never a good sign unless you are wanting to freeze your heinie off. The plan was to not play too hard (ya right, we're talking about me here) during our rugby game that day so that I wouldn't be a complete right off for my belt promotion in taekwondo tomorrow. Well - I still played as hard as I could but (un)fortunately Lethbridge has a team of pretty high class talent and we didn't touch the ball much...so I didn't actually feel like I got hit by a bus but I knew I still had to take care of my back as there were a large sum of scrums. So there was a large part of me that didn't want to screw up my chances of having a good belt promotion. I needed to do what was required of me. I needed to have an ice bath.
Which put me back to standing over the tub of ice water telling myself, "This is what real athletes do Armstrong. Real athletes take ice baths."
The rational side of my brain piped in..."But...you're not a 'real' athlete anymore...you're on the verge of retiring in rugby and you have chronic back issues. You're not a real athlete anymore."
La La Land self: "But I COULD be a real athlete again. I just need to get in shape and work my back out and everything will be fine."
Rational Self: "And then next year you're be one year older and another year further away from being a 'Real Athlete'. Sometimes you just have to know when to quit."
La La Land Self: "What happened to 'Never, never, never, never give up'?"
La La Land Self steps into the ice water shrieks and steps back out of the tub.
Rational Self: "Winston Churchill never experienced an Ice Bath."
La La Land Self stares at the ice bath - willing it to be warmer...then wondering if everything would just be okay if the ice bath was left alone. But the ice bath seems to mock La La Land.
Ice Bath: "You can't handle me. You could barely handle me when you had a bunch of cheerleaders. What makes you think that you'd ever be able to even sit through five minutes of me?"
La La Land grits her teeth: "I will do this. I am an athlete and this will make me a better athlete tomorrow."
La La Land steps into the tub, swears, and sits down.
Rational Self: "You're dumb."
La La Land: "Possibly. But I'll be a mobile dumb person tomorrow."
And I am.
And that's what I was singing to myself as I immersed myself in a bath full of water and ice. Yes, I know what I'm doing. No, I'm not crazy. There is a point to it. But man alive - it's hard to convince yourself that something is good for you when it's that painful and uncomfortable.
Ice baths. It was a concept that was introduced to me when I was a Pronghorn. You sit in a bath of ice water for 10 (or more) minutes with as much of your body immersed in the water as you can. Excrutiating. Pain - all out shooting pain for the first two minutes not to mention being short of breath (that's when you know you have it cold enough), pins and needles for the next six along with the shivering (part in parcel for probably shock from playing 80 minutes of rugby), and if you're lucky to get to minute eight - things just kind of numb out. The worst part for myself were my feet...I hate my feet and ankles being cold and so i would wear my rugby socks into the bath just to take the bite off of the water.
The point of them? It shunts the blood away from your extremities and away from the surface area of your body and to your vital organs, slows down swelling in all injured areas, and increases the rate of healing so that the next day you can walk around feeling less like roadkill and a little more like the truck. Ice baths were a vital part to surviving tournament play in university. Even when we hosted tournaments at home - there were assigned houses where we would have to take the baths. Really, there should have been posters made: "Pronghorns win games - Ice Baths win championships".
Ten minutes...doesn't seem long, right? Some of the longest minutes of my life. There were more baths than not where I didn't think I could make the 10 minutes. But as a Horn - they were mandatory after every game. And bless those hearts of the girls who never even played - most of them would take an ice bath just to support the rest of us. I can't even imagine what the hotel staff and our unfortunate neighbors thought of us after games because of all of the noise and racket we would make. Shrieking and yelling because it was borderline unbarable but there was another piece that generated noise...the moral support. Literally - we'd gather about 5 players to a room and be with each other, cheering each other on through the 10 minutes (we'd obviously be in our sports bras and spandies). I don't think I could have done it without two or three girls telling me that it would be okay and holding each other's hands through it.
So here I was...Saturday night...staring at my tub filling with ice water...ice cubes still floating in it. The water had a bluish tint to it - never a good sign unless you are wanting to freeze your heinie off. The plan was to not play too hard (ya right, we're talking about me here) during our rugby game that day so that I wouldn't be a complete right off for my belt promotion in taekwondo tomorrow. Well - I still played as hard as I could but (un)fortunately Lethbridge has a team of pretty high class talent and we didn't touch the ball much...so I didn't actually feel like I got hit by a bus but I knew I still had to take care of my back as there were a large sum of scrums. So there was a large part of me that didn't want to screw up my chances of having a good belt promotion. I needed to do what was required of me. I needed to have an ice bath.
Which put me back to standing over the tub of ice water telling myself, "This is what real athletes do Armstrong. Real athletes take ice baths."
The rational side of my brain piped in..."But...you're not a 'real' athlete anymore...you're on the verge of retiring in rugby and you have chronic back issues. You're not a real athlete anymore."
La La Land self: "But I COULD be a real athlete again. I just need to get in shape and work my back out and everything will be fine."
Rational Self: "And then next year you're be one year older and another year further away from being a 'Real Athlete'. Sometimes you just have to know when to quit."
La La Land Self: "What happened to 'Never, never, never, never give up'?"
La La Land Self steps into the ice water shrieks and steps back out of the tub.
Rational Self: "Winston Churchill never experienced an Ice Bath."
La La Land Self stares at the ice bath - willing it to be warmer...then wondering if everything would just be okay if the ice bath was left alone. But the ice bath seems to mock La La Land.
Ice Bath: "You can't handle me. You could barely handle me when you had a bunch of cheerleaders. What makes you think that you'd ever be able to even sit through five minutes of me?"
La La Land grits her teeth: "I will do this. I am an athlete and this will make me a better athlete tomorrow."
La La Land steps into the tub, swears, and sits down.
Rational Self: "You're dumb."
La La Land: "Possibly. But I'll be a mobile dumb person tomorrow."
And I am.
Dear LaLaLand Self, I like you. However, you sound vaguely like the pep talk that the perfectly tanned and toned yoga instructor gives as you watch a 30 minute DVD of exercises you are physically unable to perform.
ReplyDeleteDear Rational Self, you seem very familiar... do people call you Bear in another life? I like you best.
Dear Ice Bath, you deserve a trip to hell and back so that you turn into a steamy hot shower.
Dear Winston Churchill, would you like to write a few papers for me? Your witty verbiage seems particularly humorous and sharp today.
Dear Bear, How did your belt test go???