PHOTO COURTESY TUBCLUB

Tyler Butler hates receiving messages from his pal Eric Tenpas, who equally despises sending them.

“I’ll text him, ‘Hey, want to come plunge today?’ and then think to myself, ‘Please don’t be able to come,’” Tenpas says.

After a moment of hesitation, Butler agrees to leave his cozy Brookline home and sit in a 100-gallon tub of ice water, where every second feels like an eternity.

“I had always thought of ice water as something very dangerous,” Butler says. “If you fell into ice water, you were basically dead.”

In 2020, the friends founded Pittsburgh TubClub so others could experience the invigorating discomfort of cold water therapy. They’ve introduced thousands of folks to the frigid activity they say can bolster the immune system, improve circulation and lower stress levels. Have a chat with your doctor before your chattering teeth make it impossible for you to speak.

PHOTO COURTESY TUBCLUB

Visit the TubClub’s Spring Hill headquarters — an inactive funeral home on South Side Avenue — to become a frozen stiff. Gatherings are held Wednesdays from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. and Sundays from 9:30 a.m. to noon. Visitors can take unlimited ice baths for $15 or spring for the ice bath-sauna combo for $30. Monthly memberships also are available.

I’ve taken a few New Year’s Day leaps into the Monongahela River with the Pittsburgh Polar Bear Club, but it’s been a long time since I embraced my inner icicle. I will require at least one pint of liquid courage before taking the plunge, so I’m attending the TubClub pop-up at Allegheny City Brewing on Feb. 1.

PHOTO COURTESY TUBCLUB

The 3 p.m. session begins with guided breathwork to promote mental clarity and inner calm. Once I’ve found my zen, I’ll be up to my chin in journalistic research. At TubClub events, they cap individual ice baths at 5 minutes. Both founders have clocked 22-minute sits, but they’ve seen a few super-soakers go for more than 40. Some people wear neoprene gloves and booties to protect their fingers and toes.

I hate being cold, but showing up in a wetsuit probably defeats the purpose.

To prepare for this frosty feat, I’ve been advised to get a good night’s sleep, eat a balanced breakfast and relax my brain. Considering that I’m a perimenopausal magazine food editor with insomnia and anxiety issues, I guess I’ll have to come up with a different strategy. I sure hope I get hazard pay for wearing a bathing suit outside in February.

What I’m really looking forward to is the moment when I emerge from the tub, thaw out in the club’s portable sauna and then go sit by a cracklin’ fire with a hot cup of tea. Of course, I encourage my fellow participants to drink ACB’s brews, but, remember, a “beer coat” will only give you the illusion of warmth.

Tenpas took an interest in cold exposure after listening to a podcast featuring Wim Hof, a Dutch motivational speaker and extreme athlete whose ability to withstand bone-chilling temperatures earned him the nickname The Iceman.

As a New York native, Tenpas is no stranger to a wintry mix, but he had to ease into Hof’s method by taking cold showers. Pittsburgh-born Butler, who researched breathwork at the University of Pittsburgh, was another newcomer to extreme chillaxing. One day, the guys half-heartedly encouraged each other to sit in an icy creek for as long as they could stand.

They were hightailing it back to dry land in less than 10 seconds.

To keep them motivated, their wives treated them to a Wim Hof workshop in Ohio. Tenpas and Butler were grateful for the gift, but terrified to follow through on it. The thought of hyperventilating in an icy barrel … in the dead of winter … in Cleveland … kept them up at night.

When the fateful day arrived, however, Tenpas was the first one in. His mind went blank from the initial shock of the water, but after a few minutes, he didn’t want to get out.

“It’s amazing to go from a state of fear to quieting your adrenaline system,” he says.

What have the friends learned from begrudgingly deep-freezing themselves on a regular basis?

How to breathe through life’s stressful moments, conquer to-do lists and get in touch with their primal being. You’ll never want to do it, but you’ll always be glad you did.

“You feel incredible afterward, and it’s easier to talk to people when you’re in a relaxed state,” Tenpas says. “It’s a beautiful afterglow.”

I’m nervous, but I’m slowly warming to the idea.