Awhile ago I sung the praises of ice baths. Turns out it might just be all in my head. Or maybe it's even counterproductive. Hard to say. As noted, pain is hard to measure, and even if it is a placebo effect, if it's a placebo effect that works, that's what really matters.

I've taken a couple ice baths now, both between tourney days, and I think the only way to describe them is "excruciatingly good." Immersion sucks, but it does wonders for next-day soreness. While still painful, my last approach for getting in worked well enough that I think I'll stick with it from now on:

• Put a little ice in the empty tub and sit in it. Position the rest of the ice within reach of the tub.
• Start filling the tub with cold water and let it cover you gradually. I know this sounds awful, but it beats the hell out of filling the tub with ice water and jumping in. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because with my approach it's more like something that's happening to you rather than something you're doing to yourself.
• After you've filled the tub, grab the rest of the ice and pour it in. The temperature will drop significantly, and it's no fun, but by this point the worst is already over.
• Soak. I go for about 10 minutes but I have no idea what the optimal time is.

After the first three minutes of agony the last seven are relatively okay, I guess. A teammate brings reading material, but I don't really feel like I ever get to a level of comfort where I'd be able to concentrate or enjoy whatever I'm reading. Maybe after a few more and I'm better acclimated to the practice.

Anyway, definitely worth it. It's like having a new set of legs.

UPDATE: Or maybe it's just a placebo effect.

Often the catch-all "men's magazines" fitness stuff is hit or miss, but I took away a couple useful things from the Seven Numbers piece from Men's Health.

Apparently 24 is the magic number when it comes to L&HF-favorite almonds. The notion of pinning it to a specific number is silly, but if you're like me and you tend to overeat at dinner the concept of "front loading" with something densely nutritious seems reasonable.

Also, as a big fan of preventative icing, this caught my eye:

10 Minutes: Spend this amount of time icing after a run to save your knees from osteoarthritis. Weight-bearing exercises, such as running or playing rugby, draw blood and a lubricant called synovial fluid to your joints. And that's good ­ while you're exercising. But if extra synovial fluid and blood stick around for too long, the cartilage can crack and osteoarthritis will eventually develop. That's why post-exercise icing is so critical: "The ice makes the extra fluid run away from your joints, and then your lymphatic system filters it out," says physiotherapist Kevin Olds.

According to a Lifehacker write-in tip, you can make an ice pack using Dawn dishwashing detergent (and a zip lock bag). I just did a quick test with a small amount of whatever detergent we have upstairs (it's not in the original bottle) and it congeals to a cloudy gel when frozen. Perfect! Being a big fan of post-workout icing (regardless of injury), I'm going to buy me like a gallon of Dawn and dump it into one of those huge freezer zip lock bags.

A teammate of mine recently had knee surgery, and was given a DonJoy Iceman to aid his recovery. He loaned it to me for my sprained ankle, and it's great! Just fill it with ice water, wrap the pad around the body part you want to chill, and relax. You can just leave the thing on for hours (although you can set the dial cold enough to be dangerous at such durations, I think). The unit appears to cost around $200 new, but happily seems to be well-represented on eBay. With some luck you could score one in the $50-70 range. This is very expensive when compared to the normal cost ($0) of icing an injury, but would definitely be worth it for major rehab projects, trainers, or teams. And my ankle is very, very happy to have a loaner unit.