Hydrotherapy: The Ultimate Natural Remedy

Fun fact! I used to sell hot tubs. It was my first full-time job after college, and I’ve been waiting my entire adult career for that bullet point on my resume to hold some sort of relevance. And maybe, this is finally it? Truth is, I wasn’t very good at it. I was too green in the world and starting my slide into minimalism, where discretionary spending, especially on luxury items like giant hot tubs with a TV, stereo, and LED lights, was ridiculous. I simply couldn’t sell what people could do without.

I also knew too much: the water in the tub is the only thing you need. It was part of the spiel. When customers lamented about not being able to afford the jumbo jet package, I assured them the basic models were just as effective, and maybe even more relaxing without the hum of a blower motor. More bang for your buck! The best thing about hydrotherapy is you simply have to be in the water for it to be therapeutic, no bells and whistles required.

And I knew this because the owner Pat insisted. He was a pioneer of California Cooperages, the original cedar hot tubs⁠⁠—lacking in features, but full of healing. He sat in his jet-less wood Cal Coop every day to help ease his Parkinson’s. I had also just spent the last four years playing volleyball with Pat’s daughter, and his wife Patty happened to be an Aquatic Physical Therapy Assistant and the university’s Assistant Aquatic Director. Patty has instructed water classes to community members, students, and student-athletes for decades. So, during volleyball training camp (the grueling three-a-day practice schedule leading up to actual games), our second practice was always in the pool with Patty.

Now, a swimming pool probably isn’t the place you’d imagine a volleyball squad getting ready for the season, but we were a well-chlorinated bunch. We spent hours in the water, but swimming? No. We were doing anything but. Patty led us through countless exercises: water aerobics, water polo, plyometrics, kickboxing, Tae Bo, ai chi, stretching, pull-ups from the diving boards, aqua-jogging (that’s running in the deep end with a flotation belt), and, of course, a few cannonballs.

All this, because water provides so much. The cool temperature relieved soreness from the first practice and prevented soreness from the current; water pressure creates more resistance with less impact; buoyancy offers stability and balance building in equal measure; and cardiovascular performance increases the moment you jump in. Our time in the water was a glorious combination of intense conditioning and restoration.

Our pool practices were so noteworthy, in fact, that even the football team started underwater stretching sessions and ai chi with Patty, to prevent injury and increase mobility. New to the grid iron gang and new to me, yet, the healing properties of water are well known. Modern science is diving deeper into the benefits of cold water, while bathing rituals have taken many forms across culture and time.

You of course know the saying “all roads lead to Rome.” Originally built so the Romans could quickly transport armies to expand the Empire, these roadways led to the conquest of land and water. And so, aqueducts were another feat of Roman engineering, constructed to channel fresh, clean water into the city.

One such aqueduct, the “Aqua Nova Antonine,” was built specifically to supply water to the Baths of Caracalla. Completed in 216 A.D., the Baths of Caracalla are one of the largest thermal complexes of the ancient world, and were able to accommodate 8,000 people—complete with shops, gyms, libraries, changing rooms, a stadium, massage chambers, and, the baths. Visitors could immerse themselves in cold baths (frigidarium), warm baths (tepidarium), hot baths (caldarium), and a giant waist deep swimming pool (natatio). Romans rich and poor flocked to Caracalla like tourists to Trevi Fountain.

The Japanese are also well known for their bath culture. Many people in Japan think of baths as a literal cleaning, but also as a washing away of fatigue, so it’s typical to take a bath every night. However, people used to head to public bath houses (sentō) a few times a week to bath and socialize because they didn’t have tubs in their homes. Borne out of necessity, sentōs remain popular in Japan for residents and visitors alike as a place to relax and gather.

In Turkey, a traditional Turkish Bath (hammam), is constantly hot, and humidity is quite high. In fact, the word hammam is of Arabic origin and means heating and being warm. The warm environment encourages muscle relaxation and rests the body, while the steam helps open pores and slough off dead skin. Turkish baths have taken their place among the beauty secrets of Ottoman women.

For want of cleanliness, community, wellness, beauty, and even godliness, baths have a mythological presence, too. Ponce de Leon, another man of the conquest, etched himself into folklore as he searched for the fountain of youth in Bimini, a spring that promised to restore the youth of anyone who drank or bathed in its waters.

While the Romans paid a nominal entrance fee, as do the Japanese, in modern times, it’s common to pay a pretty penny for spa treatments and foreign bath experiences. I once spent an invigorating evening at Banya5, an urban spa in Seattle that combines Turkish hammams, Russian banyas, Finnish saunas, with cold, tepid, and hot pools (like the Caracalla Baths), into a single circular experience. The idea is to move between extreme hot and cold, then rinse and repeat, for an invigorating yet peaceful affair—all day, if you’d like.

The sauna, banya, and steam room stimulate circulation and increase blood and lymph flow. The hot and warm tubs can help relax muscles. The cold plunge constricts skin pores and blood vessels that have been dilated from the heat to flush metabolic wastes and toxins. Hot, cold, back and forth. I left feeling like a squeaky-clean rubber band, juxtaposed between the kinetic potential of taking immediate flight and or curling up into a bliss-induced coma.

Other spa experiences are even more lavish, and exclusive. The New York Times recently published an article in its Luxury Real Estate section called “Beneath the Surface: A Peek at Private Pools.” It highlights an underground water world, “a hidden realm most will never know: subterranean natatoria carved into basement floors and exquisitely maintained.” Hot tubs, lap pools, steam rooms, celestial murals, mood lighting, no-suit-required privacy⁠—the aquatic amenities are absurd in their opulence.

But now that you know that world exists, don’t you want in?

Me too. But this is me, the former hot tub salesperson telling you, you don’t need it. It’s part of the spiel! You don’t need the all-access pass, jet package, or even the jacuzzi. You now know too much.

The lesson to learn from all of these old-world wellness rituals, big city billionaires, and Pat and Patty, is that most of us already have access to the only thing we need right at our fingertips: clean, running water and a bathtub, that forlorn and forgotten luxury in your home. We are emperors—gods, even—with the power to cure whatever may be ailing us.

If you’ve ever popped into the Co-op Wellness Department, you’ve surely met Nancylee, another goddess of healing, and she’s surely sparked up a conversation that’s left you laughing (more medicine). She and I have talked a lot about the power of water and were chatting last fall about a gentleman who came in seeking a natural pain reliever because his foot was hurting. Nancylee asked if he had tried taking a bath, and he admitted that he had not. In fact, that it had not even occurred to him. So, while the Co-op has hundreds of amazing and effective alternatives to traditional medicine, she recommended what? A bath.

Ah yes, you know this now, the ultimate natural remedy: water. All you need is to be in it for it to work, and temperature only matters because there are various degrees of healing. As for warm water, from arthritis and anxiety to aches and pains, I’m not sure there’s an everyday annoyance a bath can’t cure, including a sore foot.

My tub is my sanctuary, a tiny oasis of well-being. Somehow, I’m still playing volleyball, and my body loves and hates me for it. The hate is stronger than the love these days, so I wash away the soreness with a hot bath. My shoulder thanks me. My back cries less.

I battle with a mood disorder, so I hop in the tub when I want to relax and recharge, or just be a nice human, especially to myself. Research has shown warm baths can reduce stress hormones and balance serotonin levels, both of which help regulate mood. The same research shows that bathing in hot water (104°F), for a half-hour can help decrease depression symptoms.

Other research shows that a well-timed warm bath may help with sleep. The high temperature of a bath cause blood vessels to dilate, which can lower blood pressure—another miraculous benefit.

Bath time can also provide escape, from stress, your kids, the weather, whatever. It’s a simple and polite way to isolate, in a good way. You can lock the door, open the tap, and drift away. I often find myself in Wellness picking out frou-frou tropical bath salts, so Burlington feels more like Bermuda.

Me time, self care, DIY spa day, whatever you want to call it, your bath time can look however you want it to. You can toss in those bath bombs, light candles, and snap a picture of your bubbly toes for the internet to envy how relaxed you look are, but again, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. Just be in water.

My advice? Ditch the device. Soak up the warmth. And at some point, add ice! This was another part of the sales pitch. Hot tub shoppers would often ask what they’re supposed to do with their hot tubs in the summer, especially when the Spokane heat reached triple digits. Too hot to hot tub? Lower the temperature and transform your hot tub into a cool tub for reprieve from the sweltering sun, and of course, more hydrotherapy. (You just have to be in it.)

Like we spent hours in the pool as a team, we were also required to sit in teeth-chattering timed ice baths after the last practice of each training day. The cold water and compression from the water itself constrict blood vessels, which helps flush waste products from the system, including lactic acid (which is what causes muscle soreness). Simply, these baths helped with rest and recovery.

Rest and recovery! How dreamy are those two words? You’ll find that some of the world’s most elite athletes have rigorous training programs, including a very intentional rest and recovery schedule, complete with ice baths. And as science progresses, some are even going to the extent of scheduling time in cryogenic chambers, a whole-body experience where a person exposes their body to liquid nitrogen subzero chambers.

You don’t have to be an Olympian to rest and recover like one. A cold tub, a cold shower, or an ice bath can reinvigorate your body’s systems. And here’s the part where I tell you it doesn’t even have to be an entire tub. A cold splash to the face isn’t just a trick; it triggers a real physical reaction. In his book Deep, James Nestor explores the wild sport of freediving and learns some startling facts of human physiology, that we’re actually designed to survive underwater through a life-preserving phenomenon called “the mammalian dive reflex,” also dubbed the “Master Switch of Life.” Nestor’s reporting confirms “that a person need submerge only their face in water to activate [these] life-lengthening (and lifesaving) reflexes.” It’s that simple.

So, next time you need a pick-me-up, skip the afternoon coffee, and splash some water on your face. Feeling sore? Get in the tub. And when the new year rolls around? Instead of resolving to drink more water, just be in it. I’ll be starting with a polar bear plunge on New Year’s Day.

And maybe now, after all these years, I’ve successfully sold you a tub full of water.