Jacob Mark is making an argument that goes deeper than most cold therapy content I encounter. Yes, he covers the physiological basics — the dopamine surge, the norepinephrine release, the mood improvements that follow consistent cold exposure. But what he's really talking about is using cold water as a classroom for emotional intelligence. That's a different thesis entirely, and it's one worth sitting with.
The Wim Hof Method's three pillars — breath work, mindset, and cold exposure — are presented here not as biohacking tools but as a framework for confronting the self. Jacob's insight about emotions being "always fleeting" is the heart of this piece. We step into cold water partly for the physiology, but also to practice something much harder: not running away from discomfort.
The neurochemistry Jacob describes aligns cleanly with the broader literature in our knowledge base. Cold exposure reliably elevates norepinephrine — sometimes dramatically — and that cascade produces the mood improvements he's describing. We've seen this confirmed across Huberman's work, Rhonda Patrick's sauna-and-cold research, and the 2014 Kox study on the Wim Hof Method itself, where trained practitioners showed measurably different autonomic nervous system responses than controls. The mechanism isn't mystical. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation that, when done repeatedly, trains your body to handle stress with more precision.
What's particularly well-supported is the connection Jacob draws between cold exposure and emotional regulation. When you stay composed in 50-degree water with your heart pounding, you are literally practicing the skill of maintaining executive function under duress. That skill transfers. Neuroscientists call it allostatic load management. Jacob calls it mindfulness in motion. Same phenomenon, different language.
The article is light on dosing — and that's where I'd push back gently. "Start with cold showers" is good advice, but the meaningful physiological adaptations we see in the research tend to emerge with consistent, deliberate exposure: two to four times per week, at temperatures that genuinely challenge the system. A lukewarm shower with a cold rinse is not the same stimulus as three minutes at 55 degrees. The intent matters, but the stimulus matters too.
I also notice the piece doesn't address timing. Cold exposure in the morning — before noon — tends to amplify alertness and support circadian rhythm. Cold late at night can actually delay sleep onset in some individuals by elevating core body temperature during recovery. These nuances don't diminish Jacob's message, but they sharpen the protocol.
Start exactly as Jacob suggests — gradually, with intention. But add one layer: treat your first 60 seconds in cold water as a breath work session. Slow exhales. Nasal breathing if you can manage it. That single practice will transform the experience from something you survive into something you actually learn from. The mindfulness Jacob is pointing toward becomes accessible the moment you stop fighting the cold and start working with it.
Here's what I find most interesting about Jacob's framing: he's essentially describing emotional detachment as a performance enhancer — and that connects directly to the meditation research, not just the cold exposure literature. Buddhist traditions have long held that non-attachment to pleasant states actually increases your capacity to experience them. Jacob's observation that clinging to good emotions creates suffering isn't just philosophy. It maps onto what we know about hedonic adaptation — the brain's tendency to normalize any repeated stimulus and reduce its reward signal. Cold exposure, practiced regularly, may be one of the few reliable ways to keep your dopamine system sensitive rather than chronically dampened. That's not just resilience. That's the architecture of a life that continues to feel worth living.