Exploring Floatation Therapy: The Reset Float Centre Falkirk

****UPDATE 2025: Reset Float Centre has just sent me a discount code for first-time floaters for 10% off – just enter ch-906586 when booking on their website. ****

The entire population of Scotland was recovering from what felt like a win from the Euro 2020 game vs England. (It was a 0-0 draw but for those of us in Scotland, it felt like a huge victory against our old football rivals) I was lying in my bed feeling like a big toxic bag of sludge munching my way through way too many items from the Domino’s menu.

My 7 hour Netflix binge interspersed with long periods of mindless scrolling on my phone led me down an internet rabbit hole that started at different countries travel restrictions via the Dead Sea and culminated in Googling for sensory deprivation tanks.

Somehow the idea of pickling myself in epsom brine with complete silence and darkness really appealed to me and would get me away from my damn phone for 90 minutes.

To my surprise, the Reset Float Centre popped up on my search results, just a few miles from my house. This isn’t normal for someone who lives in “the sticks”. I’m used to seeing these kinds of things confined to the big cities, it’s great support small businesses closer to home.

Being the impulsive person I am, an appointment the following evening for a one-hour float session was just too much to resist. (£47.00 for a 90 minute session including time for showering etc* edit this is now £50 – as of 2025)

Reset Float Centre is located just off the M9 motorway – easy to find. At first I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the industrial estate location. However, on entering, concerns disappeared. A look around reassured me that the place was spotlessly clean and very professional.

The woman at the desk knew even with my facemask on, “first time floater?” she smiled.

She talked me through what to expect from my floaty session as she showed me the clean white room where the giant sensory deprivation tank/pod sat filled with Epsom salty water.

She explained that “the floater” (me) was to lock the door, shower, strip naked, stick in ear plugs (brine and ear canals don’t mix well apparently) and jump in (carefully) to the pod, close the lid and then it was up to me.

For first-time floaters she recommended 10-minutes of relaxing music followed by 50 minutes of silence.

The floater controls the lights inside the pod via a big rubber button and there was an alarm bell in case of an emergency(?!)

The pod. Apologies for the lack of photos, I was embracing my time away from my phone!

On inspection, the pod was hot tub-sized with a big domed lid. Slipping inside it felt roomy and nothing like the claustrophobic watery coffin I’d imagined.

I quickly showered and hopped in pulling the lid behind me, it felt like hiding in one of those beds where the mattress lifts to reveal under bed storage.

At first there certainly wasn’t much sensory deprivation, the strong epsom salts made my skin burn (I have eczema), one of the ear plugs floated off to the feet end of the tank and I couldn’t get my head and neck to relax. Every time I forced my neck to relax, relaxed I could hear my blood pulsing around my head and was sure I was going to drown myself.

Eventually the burning calmed down, I put my hands behind my head and and felt very bored. Had I really paid to be bored in the dark for an hour?

After about 15-minutes, I found myself in what I can only describe as some sort of meditative state. I vaguely remember thinking about pretty mundane things, a bit like a waking dream. I was very relaxed, comfortable and secure in my salty womb/coffin/hot tub.

When the hour was up soft tinkly music started up in the tank and I “came to” feeling really well rested with a very pleasant brain fuzz.

Après float

I loved my float session, it was a great way to spend a Sunday evening and I slept extremely well that evening.

And I got a wee floaty loyalty card.

My eczema was definitely less inflamed for the week after the float.

My earplug-less ear was itchy and crispy for a few days.

My poor hair which had just had its first real hair cut and colour since January 2020. The epsom brine had stripped the toner from my hair leaving it strawy-yellow

*originally written in 2020 (Has it really been 5 years since the pandemic? The crazy queueing systems? the travel restrictions! )

Get Fit or Die Trying…(part one) (Updated 2024)

In which I reflect on my “fitness journey”

2015 Where it began

Throughout my 20s i had a devil-may-care attitude to health and certainly to fitness. Cake? Why not? Wine? Go on then. Cheese? Fuck yeah! Dull women keep immaculate homes and go to the gym! And then there are the excuses not to exercise; I have sore knees/ hectic work schedule/to busy socializing/watching Jeremy Kyle…err..….I confess, I’m actually just a wee bit lazy.

Years of late nights, partying and subsequent hangover couch and fast food days took their toll on my mental and physical health.

As so many of us do, I had the lucid moments when I recognised the consequences of the party/sloth lifestyle. I did a few of the beach-body diets which promised drastic results and ended up making me miserable. I joined multiple gyms over the years either making the most of the sauna or fleeing, never to return when faced with sweaty men grunting and grimacing at themselves in the mirror. I did inherit a bike from a friend once and started to cycle only to decide that the bike didn’t quite fit and it gave me a sore…

Stumbling towards my 30s, I realised that I couldn’t continue my slide in to slothdom any more.

When a colleague of mine suggested that I try the NHS Couch to 5k app (C25k) I laughed and nearly choked on my family-sized bar of Dairy Milk Running?! Me?!

Seriously though, the fact that I couldn’t run for a bus secretly scared me – I was facing early onset of middle-aged medication with middle-aged spread and I hadn’t even hit 30.

So I started running.

The best piece of advice came from a friend who said, If you genuinely want to make a life change, then shelling out cash on fancy gear will most likely leave you disappointed with your results – you think it will make getting fit easier – it wont. It will be hard no matter what colour your trainers are. Period.

The first “run”

I get out my phone, warm up my app and head off round the block. The 5 minute warm up power walk is a breeze! Tra la! I look and feel great and then ‘Laura’ informs me that I’m going to run for 60 seconds… 3,2,1….go!

It feels like I’m carrying a mattress on my back and my shin bones feel like they’re going to snap, I can’t get a deep enough breath and blood is pulsing in my head with a heavy thud thud giving me the complexion of merlot and the headache to match. Oh God! Why are those dog walkers staring at me? Is it because I’m exerting a huge effort and not moving very fast? (Or more likely because my tits are squished in to the super strength bra giving me the weird appearance of sporting one giant boob-udder.)

Slowly jogging for 60 seconds feels like the longest minute of my life but I manage. I continue to switch between the evil 60 seconds jogging with the more manageable 90 seconds of walking until I’ve managed to complete the 20 minutes. A 5 minute warm down walk follows and I finish up feeling a bizarre sense of achievement.

Couch to 5k continues

It’s the end of week three and I don’t feel any different. I don’t weigh myself because it’s too easy to get bloody obsessive over a number. I do however measure myself and keep a log. I’m a bit peeved that I’ve been exercising for 30 mins, three times a week and the measuring tape still clings stubbornly round my jiggly bits and refuses to nudge down even a miserable 0.8inch!

I have to remember I’m doing this because of cardiovascular fitness and not purely for weight loss else C25K will be going the way of the pseudo-diets of the past – IN THE BIN!

Couch to 5k Laura informs me that this week I will be tackling 90 seconds of running, 90 seconds walking, 3 minutes running 3 minutes walking. Running for 3 minutes… Running for three minutes results in burning lungs. I feel like I can’t gasp deeply enough and this catches up with me…

This evening I feel sharp stabbing pain in my left lung every time I breathe in. A quick check of the NHS symptom checker informs me that I am most likely having a heart attack and to call 999. Instead, I opt to phone mum (retired GP). Mum, (used to my dramatic hypochondria), informs me that a heart attack seems unlikely given that the pain is on my right side and I most likely have costochondritis – the cartilage between my ribs is inflamed (but not to worry as it isn’t serious). So much for running being good for you!

Week 4 – I’ve hit a wall. It’s raining cats and dogs and I really want to push on with this. I still haven’t noticed a shift in my waistline at all but my eating patterns seem to be shifting. I’m craving less post-dinner snacks and as a serial breakfast skipper I’ve found myself so hungry in the morning that I’ve started having a small breakfast when I get to work.

I decide to head to the local gym to borrow a treadmill for half an hour. As soon as I hear the dull thud of techno music, the irritating fog-horn voice of gym class instructors I feel grumpy. And I have to run for 5 mins non-stop. I start the treadmill going and in no time at all I am already dripping with sweat. I. can’t. do. this. It’s too hot and out the corner of my eye there is a guy pulling a face like a demented horse whilst trying to play with his dumbbells.

So that’s it I guess, I’ve confirmed everything I already knew – I hate the gym, it’s not for me, I can’t run, I’m going to get more and more unfit and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Grumpy post to Facebook results in some sporty friends giving me words of encouragement and reassuring me that running on a treadmill is actually a lot harder and to try again outdoors.

Feeling slightly better, I grab a bag of M&Ms on the way home for the gym and resolve to try again when the rain stops…

As the weeks continue, I persevere – 8 minutes running with 5 minutes walking and another 8 minutes running follows
…and I FINALLY get the endorphin rush that everyone has been blabbering on about. So much so that I end up being THAT friend that you all know who posts exercise photos online!

Sunday comes along and it’s weekly tape measure time. Holy Crap! I’ve lost 2 inches off my squidgy belly pie! Where the hell did that go? This is actually working!

Finishing line

week 6 run 3 was a jump from 10 min runs to a 25 minute run non-stop.
It’s true what people say about the mental wall. I did manage to complete the 25 min run, it was ugly – by the 18th minute I started seeing little angry dots dancing in front of my eyes and started making weird gasping noises that sounded like a cross between a porno-style pant and a dying goose. As I reached about the 23th minute I realised I was in grave danger of projectile vomiting and started eyeing up friendly bushes to dive in to for a vom! But I live to tell the tale!

Ugh, and then I get shin splints. No-one is really sure why this happens but essentially my right shin bone feels like it’s got a massive bruise inside it. It’s not debilitating but certainly not pleasant. My runner friends advise me to hot-tail it to my local running shop to get my ‘gait measured’ for them to sell me very expensive running shoes. I ignore their advice, choosing new skinny jeans to show off all my hard work instead.

I notice a change in the shape of my face this week…my double chin and round face is being eroded and in its place is a heart shape with cheekbones! Was trying to find a pic of me before I started this and realised I’d been avoiding photos where possible…

Partying, late nights and booze ..
Post couch to 5k – clothes shopping

The finishing line is in sight…final post to follow….

Only I don’t finish it..satisfied with dropping a dress size and with a new boyfriend in tow, I fall easily back in to pubs and late nights although I stick rigidly to double gins and slimline tonic… lifestyle changes y’know!

And that’s where I leave my “fitness journey” …on hold. I love walking and do get in to yoga a bit. But my itchy feet mean a whole new journey is about to begin…