Float Sixty South Loop is coming in late Spring 2018.
Tim Smith interviews Gloria Morris on his Mouth-to-Mouth with Time Podcast. They cover several topics and have a great conversation on how Float Sixty came to be and the power of floating.
Learn more about pregnancy and float therapy. Kirsten and Lena run both a birth center and float center up in Alaska. They use floating to help their clients through their pregnancies with great results. Kirsten and Lena talk about the benefits floating can have for pregnant women, and discuss what risks may be associated with floating while pregnant.
Major milestone attained this week in our construction plan! Our General Contractor & Superintendent kept the plumbers laser focused moving earth and laying massive pipes to fit our five float/shower suite layout! We have six treatment rooms ready to rock - five of which are float rooms!
On this Thanksgiving Day we are thankful for all of the hard work of so many people helping us bring our vision to life!
What an epic feat! Images from the concrete destruction process!
We are leaving for a trip to Paris tomorrow and decided to take the team to lunch - what a crew!
As float tank therapy for mind and body renewal, Float Sixty was looking for a visual brand identity that matched the sublime sensory-deprivation experience it offers. To achieve this, ABC immersed itself in research of full-body sensory experiences, and immediately joined forces with Box Studios to understand the spatial, architectural and interior retail design vision, which influenced logo concepting.
What resulted is a modern and intuitive design that not only translates across various applications, but also offers a sophisticated abstraction of the Float Sixty experience. Float Sixty will launch in Chicago this winter with a cohesive and communicative brand identity.
Original Article by Allison Geyer of Isthmus.con
Maria Welch leads me into a soundproof room where a huge, white, egg-shaped pod is waiting.
I’m supposed to get inside this thing, which is emitting a bright blue light from within and is filled with 160 gallons of water and about 1,000 pounds of dissolved Epsom salt, heated to skin temperature, about 94 degrees. The salt bumps up the water’s density to the point at which it can suspend a human body. It’s supposed to be relaxing, euphoric, meditative.
To me, it looks more like a space coffin.
“People go in and they’re not sure,” says Welch, who owns Float Factor on Madison’s west side. “They come out with a big smile.”
The original float pods were isolation tanks developed in the 1950s by John Lilly, a neuropsychiatrist who was studying the effects of sensory deprivation while under the influence of psychedelic drugs like LSD.
Commercial float centers rose to popularity among New Age hippie types in the ’70s and ’80s. Devotees say the therapy can soothe sore muscles, decrease stress and anxiety, improve sleep and creativity and boost the brain’s “theta waves.”
There was a float center in Madison on (of course) Williamson Street briefly in the ’90s. Now the movement is seeing a resurgence in popularity in Wisconsin and elsewhere.
In addition to Float Factor on the west side, a business called Float Madison is opening up on East Wilson Street in October.
Floating, as it turns out, is indeed “a thing,” one that costs $79 per hour-long session. But for many it’s worth it — a friend of mine claims that floats have helped him recover from hangovers and jet lag. Welch says before she opened, some of her local customers used to drive hundreds of miles to float centers out of state.
After I sign a waiver, watch an educational video (theta waves, man!) and get a quick briefing from Welch (who assures me I won’t get locked inside), it’s time to strip naked, shower off and take the plunge into roughly 10 inches of warm, salty water. It’s filtered three times between uses and sanitized with UV light.
Once I close the lid behind me, it’s actually not so bad. The pod is surprisingly well-ventilated, and it’s kind of fun to be buoyant. Bathed in blue light and serenaded by New Age pan flute music pumping through underwater speakers, I kind of get the appeal.
Floaters have the option to keep the lights and music on, but in the interest of fearless journalistic exploration into the true sensory deprivation experience, I opt for dark and silent (go big or go home, right?).
In a world constantly illuminated by iPhones and computer screens, the total absence of light is strange. The silence is stranger still; with ears submerged, I can hear the brittle sound of clicking joints and the echo of a churning stomach.
The video warned I might get nauseous. What happens if I barf in the pod? My body is light, but my neck is strangely heavy. I slosh around a bit. I’m pretty sure I’m doing it wrong.
With all outside stimuli removed, the mind is supposed to go blank and drift off into a blissful oblivion. This is perhaps possible for a non-neurotic person (or a veteran floater), but my inner monologue persists.
How long have I been in here? How am I going to write about this? I’m literally doing nothing. Target is across the street; I need some items. I wonder if my cat loves me as much as I love her. Why can’t I keep a man around?
This continues for some time until a woman’s voice tells me my float is over. I’m not sure, but maybe for a moment my snarl of thoughts became white noise, like om, the vibration of the universe. When I emerge, I feel...well, I feel something. That’s for sure. I’m buzzed. I scrape salt out of my ears. The feeling lasts all day.
Must be the theta waves.
Gallons of water in each pod: About 160
Pounds of dissolved Epsom salt: About 1,000
Water temperature: 94 degrees
Cost: Single float is $79; first float is $59
Float therapy is reportedly good for: Soothing sore muscles, reducing stress and anxiety, improving sleep and increasing creativity, mental clarity and “theta” brain waves
- See more at: http://www.isthmus.com/news/snapshot/sensory-deprivation-tank-float-factory/#sthash.8MeA96Gh.dpuf
BY STEPHANIE SALTZMAN, ASSOCIATE DIGITAL EDITOR, DECEMBER 29, 2014, 10:00:00 AM
I'm not an athlete, I'm not a bath person, and I'm not an 82-year-old, so I've never really felt the need for Epsom salts in my life. But it turns out there are a ton of other ways to use them beyond the standard sore-muscle bath soak. So if you're in need of a little R & R in this post-Christmas-pre-New-Year's (but still stuck in your hometown) lull, here are five at-home treatments you can make using the Epsom salts lurking in the medicine cabinet at your parents' house. (Or you could go out and buy some—we like Dr. Teal's Rosemary Mint Epsom Salt Soaking Solution.)
Sunburn reliever. If you're lucky enough to be spending the holidays somewhere sunny, hopefully you listened to that motherly/Allure voice in your head and wore tons of SPF 50. But in case you did somehow get a sunburn, Epsom salts can help inflamed skin. "I mix a couple of spoonfuls into a cup of water and use a spray bottle to mist it onto the affected area," says Taz Bhatia, the medical director of the Atlanta Center for Holistic and Integrated Medicine (and a spokeswoman for Dr. Teal's). "Its anti-inflammatory properties alleviate discomfort."
Lip treatment. If you somehow don't have dry, chapped lips this time of year, congratulations. For everyone else: Make an Epsom-salt scrub by combining the granules with coconut oil and rubbing the mixture into lips. Then wipe the it away with a warm, damp washcloth, and follow with a swipe of lip balm. "Epsom salt is a great exfoliant because its granules are bigger than other salts' and sugars'," says Bhatia. "And because it's a magnesium salt, it's not as harsh as typical sodium chloride salt. It's less drying and less irritating."
Facial. "Epsom salts' natural exfoliating properties deep-clean skin," says Bhatia. Add a half teaspoon to any creamy facial cleanser to turn it into a scrub. "I like to create a salty-steam facial by adding the Epsom salts to a small basin of very hot water and holding it under my face for a few minutes," she says. Then apply a face mask and rinse with cool water.
Body scrub. You could really use the same coconut-oil-Epsom-salt scrub you used on your lips as a body scrub, too (it would work especially well on dry elbows or heels). But Epsom salt on its own also makes for a supereffective body scrub: After your shower, gently massage wet skin with handfuls of the crystals. The coarse texture helps slough away dead skin cells, while the anti-inflammatory properties prevent irritation. Rinse and follow with a moisturizing body cream.
Hair volumizer. Bet you didn't see this one coming: Epsom salts can help remove the oil and product buildup that weigh down hair. For a mask that clarifies without sapping moisture, combine equal parts Epsom salts with your regular conditioner, then comb the mixture through hair and let it sit for 20 minutes before rinsing.
It hadn’t really occurred to me to be afraid of floating in a pitch-dark, top-sealed tank until a braver and better-adjusted friend said that she’d always felt a secret hankering to try it but was scared. “Scared of what?” I asked, although by then my mind was running to extremes: the heavy air, the terror of enclosure, the risk of falling asleep and inhaling water. I envisioned myself hauled from the tank like Jason Bourne out of the Mediterranean, technically alive but lacking memories of life. (“I have professional skills I do not understand!” I’d shout. “I can sit at a desk for an extremely long time!”) Floating, known as Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy (REST), promises many lifestyle benefits, including lasting calm, heightened creative thought, and greater suppleness of skin. As the hour of my first immersion neared, though, I began to wonder whether I might find myself calmer in a place that did not mimic the exact experience of death.
Sensory-deprivation tanks, once popular with stoners, scientific geniuses, and the sorts of people who prefer to polish their own chakra crystals, are reentering our culture in more mainstream therapeutic forms. It is possible now to go lie in one after lunch, much as you might visit a spa—except that tanks, unlike spas, are intended not only to help the body but to serve the mind. A REST tank is filled with about ten inches of water, into which a thousand pounds of Epsom salts have been dissolved. This solution, nearly saturated, is so buoyant that one can’t notfloat in it, even with effort. And the water is exactly at body temperature, obscuring the normal sensation of having discrete limbs in space; the floater’s ears sink just below the water line, leaving only two senses—smell and taste—untouched. Most people have not spent time without sight, sound, and feeling since leaving the womb. A good part of the intrigue of floatation tanks surrounds the question of the brain’s response in such bizarre conditions.
I hoped to try it without venturing too far from home, literally or figuratively. I’d been ill at ease of late—grumpy, impatient, exasperated with work—but a brand-new, upscale floatation center, Lift / Next Level Floats, had just opened in New York, apparently to cater to people as circumspect and world-weary as I. It sounded promising. One afternoon, after some mind-numbing phone calls, I went to Lift, near downtown Brooklyn, for my soak. The founders, Gina Antioco andDavid Leventhal, met me in their light-filled, loft-like lounge. They offered tea.
“We wanted to create an environment that had mass appeal,” Antioco, who wore shorts and a T-shirt, explained. She used to be a catering manager who suffered from insomnia; she tried sensory-deprivation floating as a solution. At a floating conference in Portland, in 2013, she met Leventhal, a wiry middle-aged man with Clubmaster glasses. For years, he’d been a partner at a law firm. Then he decided that he wanted to float. “The industry has just had an amazing resurgence,” Leventhal said. “A lot of centers in the past have bootstrapped themselves—they’re scrappy and ingenious.” In Lift, which has so far floated some eight hundred New Yorkers, they were aiming to catch the upper mainstream of the market—people who might have qualms about floating in a stranger’s apartment, which is traditionally how many centers ran—and to create a business that could be expanded elsewhere if its popularity grew.
Today, the science of floatation tanks is mostly honorable yet hazy. Their invention is attributed to John C. Lilly, the postwar researcher best known for his important but nutty research on dolphins. (Lilly, a neuroscientist, became convinced that the dolphin brain represented a supreme intelligence that humans could employ to solve a range of problems; he constructed cohabitation quarters—water-filled living rooms, basically—so that he and colleagues could live with the animals and cultivate what he hoped would become a common language.) Lilly was working for the National Institute of Mental Health when he invented floatation tanks, in the fifties, ostensibly with the goal of isolating the brain from normal perceptual experience. Later, in the sixties and seventies, he started experimenting with sensory deprivation under the effects of LSD and ketamine.
Floatation tanks fell out of fashion suddenly after the eighties—a casualty, according to Leventhal, of AIDS panic, since the tanks scared people unsure of how the illness spread. In recent years, they have regained a following, and, at the moment, the case for certain benefits is compelling. Under examination, floatation therapy has turned up encouraging results in reducing blood pressure and cortisol levels, reducing blood lactate levels after intense exercise, and other physiological improvements. It’s been shown to help manage anxiety, and it appears to be useful in dealing with addiction (although their waterless cousins, sensory-deprivation chambers, have seemed slightly more effective). One study found that competitive archers who floated for forty-five minutes before shooting arrows generally shot those arrows better than archers who did not.
I was personally interested in weirder stuff. Richard Feynman, the quantum physicist known for his lucid mind and zesty style, once met John Lilly after a lecture and began using tanks; in Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman!, he describes undergoing about a dozen long floats. For the first two, he felt nothing much. From the third on, though, he had hallucinations. “I had many types of out-of-the-body experiences,” he wrote. “One time, for example, I could ‘see’ the back of my head, with my hands resting against it. When I moved my fingers, I saw them move, but between the fingers and the thumb I saw the blue sky. Of course that wasn’t right; it was a hallucination. But the point is that as I moved my fingers, their movement was exactly consistent with the motion that I was imagining that I was seeing.”
Antioco and Leventhal said that their clients also had “experiences” in the tank, though they were vague on what the range of those experiences could be. Some people had become intensely aware of their heartbeats. A few felt odd aches in their bodies—points of tension that they didn’t realize they had. Some effects had been stranger. “After sixty minutes in the tank, someone came out, and I asked him how it was. He couldn’t talk, but he was all smiles. I asked him again and he still couldn’t talk, but he had this infectious, giddy laugh,” Leventhal said.
Their spa contains two kinds of tanks: One is basically a high-ceilinged, vault-like room with water in the bottom. This is the tank recommended for people with fears of claustrophobia. The other is a more traditional model, the Evolution Float Pod. It has a lid. Leventhal mentioned that the New England Patriots had bought two such tanks for their locker room, which assuaged some of my fears: If a linebacker could fit comfortably in the pod, I thought, I probably could as well. I wanted the “authentic” tank experience, too—the one that Lilly and Feynman had undergone.
I shared my fears of falling asleep and drowning. Antioco and Leventhal told me that this would be virtually impossible. The water is shallow and so salty that it stings the eyes, they said; if I fell asleep and rolled, I would immediately be stunned awake by the solution. In the history of floatation, they told me, there had been only one drowning in the tank—and that was of somebody who had physically paralyzed himself with ketamine. “Experiment with different body positions,” Leventhal told me. “My favorite is to put my arms above or even behind my head.” I followed him into my small, private floatation room, lined with tile. He showed me around, wished me luck, and shut the door, leaving me alone to soak.
The floatation tank appeared more welcoming than I’d expected. It was white and sleek, and it gaped amiably, like a big clam. Far from being sepulchral, it was huge—almost the width of my arm span, I guessed—and comfortably rounded. The lid domed up to make quite a lot of head space: I am six feet tall, but I discovered I could comfortably sit up in the tank when it was closed. As I showered, the water in the tank turned oscillating colors, like the backsplash in a European disco. I was scheduled for an hour—a long time for a bath, maybe, but a short time by the standards of a REST tank, where the temperature holds steady and the salt means that your skin won’t prune. Antioco told me that, sometime this fall, she plans to do an all-night float.
I got in. On Leventhal’s advice, I’d taken a small face towel in with me, to keep the salty water from dripping into my eyes when I sat up, and I hung it on the hinge joint of the lid. I put in the earplugs that Lift provides—not required, but swimmer’s ear is common—and shut the lid over me. I hit a button to begin, and lay back in the water. Slowly, the colored lights dimmed, and then the lights in the room, visible through the hinge of the lid, dimmed, too. It was pitch dark.
For three or four minutes, I had a vague feeling of panic. I was not afraid of anything much, and yet floating in the dark was so disorienting that I felt the need to reassure myself by touch. I felt the floor of the tank, only a few inches below; from time to time I’d reach out sideways and grab hold of the lid hinge. I’d begun to drift. Occasionally, I bumped a wall. Ethnic-sounding flute music had started playing; for a moment it was welcome, as another orienting detail, but eventually I groped for the big rubber button that would turn it off. Now it was quiet, too.
Many people are afraid of lulls in conversation; other people are afraid of silences in their own brains. As my body fell into a physical calm, my mind began to behave like a hammy actor in an empty theater. I did not hear my heartbeat, as those other people had. Was that a problem? my mind wondered. Should I hear it? Was I dying? Then there was the ache in my left shoulder. What was that about? And did I still feel my hands? I did. Was that OK? Finally, how high was the waterline on my cheeks, really? Should I be worrying about it trickling into my eyes?
So far, I did not feel particularly calm.
When I’d figured out my body, more or less, I found myself indulging in the most egregious of writerly tics: I started writing sentences in the dark. How would I describe this experience? my mind wondered. Although I wasn’t having any real hallucinations, I was seeing ghostly drifting geometric forms against the dark before me. In the outer fields of my vision I saw ripples—very faint, and indigo in hue, as if my brain were trying to make some visual image to match my sensory perceptions. I began to think of how I might describe these faint illusions. Most of all, they put me in mind of the Northern Lights, which I had seen once standing on a hill, in downtown Reykjavík, in late September. “Faint and pale and flickering, just like the Northern Lights at midnight”—that was the right phrase, I thought. The description was precise, and the phonetic voice-leading was musical, the A sound carrying from faint to pale, which broke the F alliteration just enough, and then the strong through-tone of like, lights, midnight . . .
I shook myself out of this pointless reverie—the normal drone of creative thought that I had wanted to escape. I began trying to think about my wrists. I could no longer feel the boundaries of my arms or hands, but I could feel my wrists, which floated at my sides. They seemed bizarrely heavy. Why? I thought of Leventhal, and tried putting my arms above my head.
I noticed that I hadn’t lost my sense of smell—far from it. For cleanliness, the water in the tank is micro-filtered between uses and treated with bromine. To distract myself from the chemical scent, I tried an exercise that Feynman had described. “I tried to think of very early memories. I kept saying to myself, ‘It’s gotta be earlier; it’s gotta be earlier’—I was never satisfied that the memories were early enough,” he wrote.
I acquired language young, and can normally recall—or seem to recall—moments and dialogue almost back to the time of my first words. What surprised me when I tried Feynman’s exercise, though, was the vividness with which memories came in the tank. Faint snapshot-like images (that blue door in a motel in Carmel or Monterey, where my grandparents had made peach Jell-O in a hurry using ice; the old back door into the yard of my parents’ house, before it was remodeled decades ago), were so clear now I could almost have written whole paragraphs describing them. Little licks of hazily remembered dialogue seemed to crystalize into full scenes. I can’t say that I remembered more, but I remembered everything much better. It was as if I had a telescope back into my own history, and the normal fuzzy light pollution of the atmosphere, the distractions of time and the moment, had been blocked, leaving the image sharp and pure. Like Feynman, I kept willing myself backward—further, deeper. I was surprised how immediate it seemed.
Suddenly, an electronic voice began to speak, and the lights in the tank came up. I blinked, bleary; an hour had apparently passed, though it had not seemed long enough at all. I got out, showered with fragrant soap and vinegar, to help dissolve the crystalizing salt, and wandered out into the hallway, which was bright with daylight. I had a couple more calls to take that afternoon, and chores to run, but they no longer felt as tedious. The immersion had done what I had hoped: I’d found a way of rediscovering my mind.
This is a great article that originated five years ago and explains why my first time floating for an hour in 1000 lbs of Epsom salts had such a profound impact on my sleep that I went into this business. Enjoy.
Most Powerful Relaxation Mineral Available
Mar 18, 2010 | Updated Nov 17, 2011
Mark Hyman, MD Practicing physician
A deficiency in this critical nutrient makes you twice as likely to die as other people, according to a study published in The Journal of Intensive Care Medicine.(i) It also accounts for a long list of symptoms and diseases -- which are easily helped and often cured by adding this nutrient. In fact, in my practice, this nutrient is one of my secret weapons against illness. Yet up to half of Americans are deficient in this nutrient and don't know it.
I'm talking about magnesium.
It is an antidote to stress, the most powerful relaxation mineral available, and it can help improve your sleep.
I find it very funny that more doctors aren't clued in to the benefits of magnesium, because we use it all the time in conventional medicine. But we never stop to think about why or how important it is to our general health or why it helps our bodies function better.
Advertisement
I remember using magnesium when I worked in the emergency room. It was a critical "medication" on the crash cart. If someone was dying of a life-threatening arrhythmia (or irregular heart beat), we used intravenous magnesium. If someone was constipated or needed to prepare for colonoscopy, we gave them milk of magnesia or a green bottle of liquid magnesium citrate, which emptied their bowels. If pregnant women came in with pre-term labor, or high blood pressure of pregnancy (pre-eclampsia) or seizures, we gave them continuous high doses of intravenous magnesium.
But you don't have to be in the hospital to benefit from getting more magnesium. You can start taking regular magnesium supplementation today and see results. And in this blog I will explain how. I will outline some of the benefits of magnesium (including improved sleep), outline many of the chronic illnesses associated with a lack of magnesium, and provide you with 13 tips for optimizing your magnesium levels.
The Relaxation Mineral
Think of magnesium as the relaxation mineral. Anything that is tight, irritable, crampy, and stiff -- whether it is a body part or an even a mood -- is a sign of magnesium deficiency.
This critical mineral is actually responsible for over 300 enzyme reactions and is found in all of your tissues -- but mainly in your bones, muscles, and brain. You must have it for your cells to make energy, for many different chemical pumps to work, to stabilize membranes, and to help muscles relax.
That is why the list of conditions that are found related to magnesium deficiency is so long. In fact, there are over 3,500 medical references on magnesium deficiency!
Even so, this mineral is mostly ignored because it is not a drug, even though it is MORE powerful than drugs in many cases. That's why we use it in the hospital for life-threatening and emergency situations like seizures and heart failure.
You might be magnesium deficient if you have any of the following symptoms:
• Muscle cramps or twitches
• Insomnia
• Irritability
• Sensitivity to loud noises
• Anxiety
• Autism
• ADD
• Palpitations
• Angina
• Constipation
• Anal spasms
• Fibromyalgia
• Chronic fatigue
• Asthma
• Kidney stones
• Diabetes
• Obesity
• Osteoporosis
• High blood pressure
• PMS
• Irritable bladder
• Reflux
• Trouble swallowing
Magnesium deficiency has even has been linked to inflammation in the body and higher CRP levels.
In our society, magnesium deficiency is a huge problem. By conservative standards of measurement (blood, or serum, magnesium levels), 65 percent of people admitted to the intensive care unit -- and about 15 percent of the general population -- have magnesium deficiency.
But this seriously underestimates the problem, because a serum magnesium level is the LEAST sensitive way to detect a drop in your total body magnesium level. So rates of magnesium deficiency could be even higher!
The reason we are so deficient is simple: Many of us eat a diet that contains practically no magnesium -- a highly-processed, refined diet that is based mostly on white flour, meat, and dairy (all of which have no magnesium).
When was the last time you had a good dose of sea vegetables (seaweed), nuts, greens, and beans? If you are like most Americans, your nut consumption mostly comes from peanut butter, and mostly in chocolate peanut butter cups.
Much of modern life conspires to help us lose what little magnesium we do in our diet. Magnesium levels are decreased by excess alcohol, salt, coffee, phosphoric acid in colas, profuse sweating, prolonged or intense stress, chronic diarrhea, excessive menstruation, diuretics (water pills), antibiotics and other drugs, and some intestinal parasites. In fact, in one study in Kosovo, people under chronic war stress lost large amounts of magnesium in their urine.
This is all further complicated by the fact that magnesium is often poorly absorbed and easily lost from our bodies. To properly absorb magnesium we need a lot of it in our diet, plus enough vitamin B6, vitamin D, and selenium to get the job done.
A recent scientific review of magnesium concluded, "It is highly regrettable that the deficiency of such an inexpensive, low-toxicity nutrient results in diseases that cause incalculable suffering and expense throughout the world." (ii) I couldn't' have said it better myself.
It is difficult to measure and hard to study, but magnesium deficiency accounts for untold suffering -- and is simple to correct. So if you suffer from any of the symptoms I mentioned or have any of the diseases I noted, don't worry -- it is an easy fix!! Here's how.
Stop Draining Your Body of Magnesium
• Limit coffee, colas, salt, sugar, and alcohol
• Learn how to practice active relaxation
• Check with your doctor if your medication is causing magnesium loss (many high blood pressure drugs or diuretics cause loss of magnesium)
Eat Foods High in Magnesium
Include the following in your diet as often as you can:
• Kelp, wheat bran, wheat germ, almonds, cashews, buckwheat, brazil nuts, dulse, filberts, millet, pecans, walnuts, rye, tofu, soy beans, brown rice, figs, dates, collard greens, shrimp, avocado, parsley, beans, barley, dandelion greens, and garlic
Take Magnesium Supplements
• The RDA (the minimum amount needed) for magnesium is about 300 mg a day. Most of us get far less than 200 mg.
• Some may need much more depending on their condition.
• Most people benefit from 400 to 1,000 mg a day.
• The most absorbable forms are magnesium citrate, glycinate taurate, or aspartate, although magnesium bound to Kreb cycle chelates (malate, succinate, fumarate) are also good.
• Avoid magnesium carbonate, sulfate, gluconate, and oxide. They are poorly absorbed (and the cheapest and most common forms found in supplements).
• Side effects from too much magnesium include diarrhea, which can be avoided if you switch to magnesium glycinate.
• Most minerals are best taken as a team with other minerals in a multi-mineral formula.
• Taking a hot bath with Epsom salts (magnesium sulfate) is a good way to absorb and get much needed magnesium.
• People with kidney disease or severe heart disease should take magnesium only under a doctor's supervision.
So if you're coping with the symptoms here, relax! Magnesium is truly a miracle mineral. It is essential for lifelong vibrant health.
Now I'd like to hear from you...
Do you suffer from any of the symptoms I've mentioned?
Do you currently take a magnesium supplement? What results have you noticed?
Which of the tips mentioned above do you plan to try?
Please share your thoughts by leaving a comment below.
To your good health,
Mark Hyman, M.D.
References
(i) Tong, GM and RK Rude. 2005. Magnesium deficiency in critical illness. J Intensive Care Med 20 (1):3-17. Review.
(ii) S. Johnson. 2001. The multifaceted and widespread pathology of magnesium deficiency. Med Hypotheses 56(2): 163-70
Mark Hyman, M.D. practicing physician and founder of The UltraWellness Center is a pioneer in functional medicine. Dr. Hyman is now sharing the 7 ways to tap into your body's natural ability to heal itself. You can follow him on Twitter, connect with him on LinkedIn, watch his videos on Youtube and become a fan on Facebook.
Around The WebBY GRAVITY
Credit for original article:
*Warning: Adult Language (and we love it)
We will be communicating updates on construction milestones and opening dates to our mailing lists! Please take a few minutes to subscribe to our database and we will be issuing a few complimentary gift sessions to our soft opening!
http://floatsixty.us11.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=d4120478f194b7dc72b6677b4&id=57c1fcb5ec
We will select a few random clients to receive float gift cards!
Thank you Just Float for passing this academic research along for our Float Sixty audience.
Randomized controlled trial
Morgan PM, et al. J Strength Cond Res. 2013.
Flotation restricted environmental stimulation technique (REST) involves compromising senses of sound, sight, and touch by creating a quiet dark environment. The individual lies supine in a tank of Epsom salt and water heated to roughly skin temperature (34-35° C). This study was performed to determine if a 1-hour flotation REST session would aid in the recovery process after maximal eccentric knee extensions and flexions. Twenty-four untrained male students (23.29 ± 2.1 years, 184.17 ± 6.85 cm, 85.16 ± 11.54 kg) participated in a randomized, repeated measures crossover study. The participants completed 2 exercise and recovery protocols: a 1-hour flotation REST session and a 1-hour seated control (passive recovery). After isometric muscle strength testing, participants were fatigued with eccentric isokinetic muscle contractions (50 repetitions at 60°·s) of the nondominant knee extensors and flexors. Blood lactate, blood glucose, heart rate, OMNI-rating of perceived exertion for resistance exercise (OMNI-RPE), perceived pain, muscle soreness, and isometric strength were collected before exercise, after treatment, and 24 and 48 hours later. A multivariate analysis of covariance found that treatment had a significant main effect on blood lactate, whereas subsequent univariate analyses of variance found statistical significance with the immediate posttreatment blood lactate measures. The results indicate that flotation REST appears to have a significant impact on blood lactate and perceived pain compared with a 1-hour passive recovery session in untrained healthy men. No difference was found between conditions for muscle strength, blood glucose, muscle soreness, heart rate, or OMNI-RPE. Flotation REST may be used for recreational and professional athletes to help reduce blood lactate levels after eccentric exercise.
Full text from provider (Lippincott Williams & Wilkins)
