Near-infrared light stimulates mitochondria in the cells to produce more adenosine triphosphate, the building block of energy.Rick O'Brien/Supplied
In a world saturated with wellness and athletic supplements, a good litmus test to determine if a pill or potion truly enhances performance is to check whether it’s banned in athletic competition.
Take ginseng: There is some evidence that the plant root might delay fatigue and boost energy. But nobody was searching for traces of ginseng in the bloodstream of Olympic athletes in Paris, because there is just not enough proof that ginseng really does anything. Had someone tested positive for, say, anabolic steroids, you would have heard about it. Because that stuff works.
So, when I saw a scientific paper in an academic journal questioning whether anti-doping agencies should begin to regulate the use of red-light therapy in sports (yes, like the glowing, scarlet panels you might have seen your aunt point toward her skin to clear up rashes or soften wrinkles), I became curious about what it does.
Red-light therapy, or photobiomodulation, is not new, but it is having a moment in our wellness-obsessed zeitgeist: some use it to remove wrinkles, others are exploring its effects on dementia. It consists of shining near-infrared light on the skin to help tissues heal. The light stimulates mitochondria in the cells to produce more adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the building block of energy, in turn helping the body regenerate without messing with circadian rhythms and sleep.
Cleber Ferraresi, a physical therapy researcher at the Federal University of Sao Carlos, Brazil, and one of the paper’s authors, said it has enough potential as a recovery-booster to one day be regulated in competition; and that trainers, coaches and athletic staff have yet to harness this therapy to its full performance-enhancing and muscle-healing potential.
But here is the weird part: Dr. Ferraresi and his colleagues published their review of photobiomodulation in 2016. If red-light therapy were to take over the athletic world, it probably would have done so by now, right? It hasn’t. For now, red-light therapy is more the domain of holistic health centres, medical spas and high-end wellness clubs: the types of establishments whose wide offerings blur the line between clinically proven treatments and new-agey pastimes (sound bath, anyone?). There is also a big market for DIY red-light therapy: Self-use devices that look like mini-MRI machines and eerie Halloween masks, are widely available online.
Nicole Bassels, co-owner of Cryomend, a biohacking clinic in East York, near Toronto, finds it strange that athletes are not lining up to use the six red-light therapy panels that she bought more than a year ago – especially because she has seen a considerable uptick in clients in recent months. One barrier to the treatment for some people, she says, is that, while it is Health Canada-approved, the $40 sessions are not covered by most insurance policies. “Still,” she says, “I figured that this would be more popular with clients who do elite sports.”
At Cryomend, I tried red-light therapy myself. For 20 minutes, I stood behind a curtain wearing just underwear and swim goggles, and faced six panels of red infralight that emitted enough heat for me to break a sweat. I left the clinic feeling upbeat and energized: Whether it was from the therapy, or the thrill of trying something that felt cutting-edge, I am not sure. Either way, I felt like the most energetic guy at my recreational softball game two hours later.
That is when I faced the question that probably gives the science-forward crowd pause: Do I feel generally well because of the red-light therapy? Or the placebo effect? Or the fact that I started red-light therapy around the same time that I started to eat well and sleep better and go to the gym almost every day? The athletic community may be hesitant to jump on this modality not because they think it is a scam, but because we have yet to learn much about how it works. That is what Dr. Ferraresi thinks, anyway.
He said we still know little about how to calibrate effective doses, and that the better-trained an athlete already is, the smaller the benefits they will acquire from it. Still, he sees no harm with people adding it to their regular recovery regime – just not as a replacement for a performance or recovery technique that is proven to work. Because, until we learn more about dosage, the therapy remains hit or miss.
“I recommend it for athletes who want to improve muscular performance and recovery … but it’s not a miracle. It’s more than just buying panels and hoping for the best.”