Letter of Recommendation: How I Learned to Love My Sauna

I have been coerced into learning new skills and trying new hobbies for as long as I’ve been with my husband. When we were in college, he pressured me into skiing. Throwing oneself down a steep mountain, in freezing temperatures, strapped to skinny planks, is not something that my immigrant family ever thought I’d need to learn. I survived, even had fun, but from then on, I knew better than to automatically agree to whatever “fun idea” he had up his sleeve.

Here are some things my hobbyist husband has proposed we try that I’ve firmly said no to: ice climbing, a rafting trip, a bike tour, surfing, marathon running, ballroom dancing, a greenhouse, a pizza oven. Things I’ve grudgingly said yes to: fly fishing, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, curling, paddle-boarding, rock climbing, a Dead & Co. concert, a dog. I don’t regret any of my decisions, but aside from our pup (who is now my favorite child), I haven’t truly taken to any of his obsessions. They’re his fixations, not mine.

Recently, though, after much lobbying on his part, I agreed to have a sauna built in our small yard—and now I’m almost as obsessed as he is. Maybe that’s because sauna bathing doesn’t involve special gear or physical training, and the only skill you really need to have is to be able to sit still. But I think there’s more to it. Here’s how I learned to love sweating in a claustrophobic space.

1. Use it as stealth therapy.

Our sauna is very small, but my husband and I can comfortably use it at the same time without the threat of mingling sweat. It also helps that the bench faces a wall with a glass door and window, both of which nicely frame a corner of our garden. The tight confines also happen to be conducive to having all sorts of discussions with your partner. There’s something about sitting next to each other, but not facing each other, that takes the sting out of touchy subjects and the annoyance out of mundane ones. Plus, in such a hushed, tight space, raised voices are simply not an option.

2. Wear a towel, not a bathing suit.

For the first few weeks, I wore a two-piece bathing suit for our sauna sessions. But after reading that high heat can cause the release of microplastics, I started to just wrap a towel around myself and call it a day. Plus, I did not want to offend the Europeans. In a New York Times story, “The Europeans Have Some Notes About American Sauna Culture,” an Austrian yoga instructor said she finds wearing bathing suits “disgusting.” It would be a total no-no to go to a sauna in Austria with your bathing suit, and an insult to wear workout clothes.” Noted!

3. Have a stack of towels at the ready.

For me, a big hurdle to enjoying a hobby is gear. The more that I have to invest in equipment and accessories, the less appealing it becomes. The sauna requires very little. Just towels—albeit a whole lot of them. Personally, I like to use three towels for each session: one to wrap around myself, one to sit on, and a hand towel for wiping off face sweat. We keep a stack of fresh towels in our laundry room, which is conveniently located near the door to our yard.

4. Breathe in.

Our sauna, like most traditional Finnish saunas, gives off a woodsy, fresh scent thanks to Nordic white spruce-lined walls. It’s a really pleasant smell. But adding an essential oil to the whole experience took it to spa levels of enjoyment for me. Ed, the very persuasive sauna pusher who sold us our kit, gifted us essential oils when we closed the deal and instructed us to add a few drops to our kiulu (bucket) of water that we use to pour over the hot stones. Ladling this water over the heater creates löyly, a burst of hot steam that is essential to the traditional sauna experience, and diffuses the essential oil. I particularly enjoy the birch scent, which feels both calming and invigorating to me.

5. Savor the health benefits.

This is the main reason so many Americans of late are flocking to saunas: Regular sessions of sweating in high heat have been linked to reduction in hypertension, cardiovascular disease, dementia, respiratory conditions, and mortality. I’m not one to hop on health and fitness trends, but the research on sauna bathing’s effects on health and longevity seems sound (this study and this study are particularly compelling). That glow I get after stepping out of my sauna is more a gloat: I just did something good for my body—and I barely moved a muscle.

See also:

• Letter of Recommendation: Electric Hedge Trimmers
• Letter of Recommendation: An Ode to the ‘One-Night-Only’ Cereus Bloom
• Letter of Recommendation: Citizen Pruners and Street Tree Stewardship