Biohacking isn’t just a trend for me. It’s a healing ritual, a nervous system practice, and a way to connect to my own resilience.

I’ve always been wellness-adjacent — my late husband’s parents were a naturopath and a holistic nutritionist — but 2020 was when I dove in deep.

After loss, isolation, and recalibration, I needed something to bring me back into my body.

Enter sauna and cold plunge. It started at The Sauna House in Asheville, where I found community and ritual.

Hot/cold therapy quickly became part of how I trained my nervous system. It was HIIT, but for the parasympathetic state. I watched my heart rate spike in the sauna, and I learned how to bring it back down in the plunge.

It built resilience — not just physically, but emotionally.

Now, I’ve recreated that circuit at home. Here's my routine:

I start with 15 minutes in the Auroom sauna, letting my heart rate rise to 120–140 bpm.

Then I rinse and move to the Renu cold plunge for 3 minutes — tracking my heart rate drop until it hits my resting rate(around 55 bpm).

Next, I dry off and head to the BioMat, layering in red light therapy from two PlatinumLED panels.

I lie there for about 10 minutes on each side, often reading during the session. Then I repeat.

I typically run this full circuit two to three times.

When I was going to The Sauna House regularly, I’d meditate between rounds in their heated concrete chairs. I’d track my heart rate and wait until it returned to baseline before moving again.

It’s a practice in self-regulation — one that taught me I could meet discomfort with calm. And it’s why I swear by this method.

Red light therapy became a cornerstone when I was trying to conceive.

I used it daily, and I genuinely believe it helped.

It’s regenerative at a cellular level — for skin, energy, fertility, everything.

It’s not magic. But it’s medicine.

This circuit — heat, cold, light, stillness — keeps me grounded.

It reminds me that I can hold contrast and move through it with presence. 

Same reason I love hot yoga. 

It's 75 minutes in 110 degrees, but it's about learning to move through it gracefully.

That’s the practice. 
That’s the metaphor.
That’s the medicine.