Aditya's argument here is essentially this: cold showers aren't just a health trick. They're a form of deliberate stress inoculation — a daily practice that trains your nervous system to respond to discomfort rather than retreat from it. That framing matters. It shifts cold exposure from a productivity hack into something closer to a discipline.
He's not wrong. But the mechanisms deserve more precision than the conversation provides.
The sympathetic nervous system response Aditya describes is well-documented. Cold water hits your skin, norepinephrine spikes, heart rate climbs, blood vessels constrict then dilate. This is real, and it's the same cascade that Huberman and Rhonda Patrick have both discussed extensively. What's less often mentioned is that this response is dose-dependent. Three times a week, you're building adaptation. Seven times a week at high intensity, you risk blunting the very hormonal response you're trying to cultivate.
The brown fat angle is legitimate too — repeated cold exposure does promote thermogenic adipose tissue — but this is more relevant to sustained cold immersion (ice baths, cold water swimming) than a few minutes at the end of a shower. Don't expect a shower to rewire your metabolism. Expect it to train your nervous system.
There's broad consensus on the psychological benefits: cold exposure builds tolerance for discomfort, reduces anxiety over time, and creates a reliable morning activation state. The disagreement tends to surface around timing and intensity. Some researchers favor morning cold to leverage the natural cortisol awakening response. Others note that evening cold, unlike evening heat, can delay sleep onset by keeping core body temperature elevated for hours afterward. The article doesn't address timing at all — worth knowing before you build your protocol.
The ancient lineage framing Aditya offers is culturally interesting but scientifically soft. Our ancestors weren't cold-plunging for longevity — they were surviving. The modern deliberate practice is something different: chosen, controlled, calibrated. That distinction is actually what makes it powerful.
The gradual approach is correct. Start with 30 seconds of cold at the end of your normal shower. Work toward two minutes over several weeks. But here's the piece this conversation undersells: your breath determines the outcome. Long, slow exhales activate the parasympathetic nervous system. If you tense up and hold your breath — which is most people's instinct — you're fighting the cold instead of adapting to it. Exhale first. Let the body settle into the stimulus.
Aditya mentions visualization almost as an aside, but it's genuinely the most underutilized tool in cold exposure practice. The anticipatory anxiety before stepping into cold water is itself a stress response — often larger than the actual physical response to cold. Athletes who pre-visualize the cold, who mentally rehearse the exhale and the settling, show measurably different cortisol profiles than those who just grit and go. You're not just training your body in the shower. You're training your relationship to discomfort before you even turn the tap.