Most of the time, Tanya Hackett, a 44-year-old long-distance runner, has aches or pains somewhere in her body.

But when she’s lying in the tanks at Neuro Float, her upper back relaxes. The discomfort in her feet disappears.

She feels nothing. And that’s the whole point.

Sensory deprivation

Also known as sensory-deprivation tanks or isolation tanks, the float tanks at Neuro Float in Bend are 8-by-6-foot fiberglass capsules — big enough for an adult to lie down and stretch out. They are filled with 10-inch-deep water that has more than 800 pounds of salt dissolved in it, creating an extremely buoyant liquid. The water is about 94 degrees — a barely perceptible temperature.

Once inside, a floater closes the door to be enveloped in darkness and silence. Gravity disappears. You lose your sense of space, said Hackett.

Float tanks are designed to eliminate external stimulation, so a person’s attention is forced to turn completely inward. Hackett said it forces her to listen to her body and her mind. Mostly, she said, it is great to have a pain-free hour. But the good feeling doesn’t end when she steps out of the tank. Her body stays relaxed, she tends to sleep better, and her cravings for beer and unhealthy foods wane for a few days.

She started working at the studio recently in exchange for tank use, so she can float more often.

The history of float tanks

Sensory-deprivation tanks were born from the curiosities of a scientist, John Lilly, who had also trained as a psychologist.

He was curious about the brain’s electrical activity. He wasn’t studying meditation or altered states of consciousness.

In the 1950s, while working at the National Institutes of Mental Health, he discovered a soundproof tank that would restrict environmental stimuli such as light, sound, gravity and temperature.

Sensory isolation was not a spa experience in those days. In fact, it was looked upon more like torture, according to “The Book of Floating; Exploring the Private Sea,” by author Michael Hutchison. But when Lilly experimented with himself, he found it “profoundly unstressful,” according to Hutchinson’s book.

By the 1970s, Lilly had designed a tank that’s similar to what’s used today. During that time, society was embracing the concept of meditation, which is largely what happens to a person inside the tank. Music, media and sports celebrities started using and acquiring float tanks, bringing attention to them as a tool for self-improvement.

Hutchison interviewed researchers who said floating stimulates the brain in ways that can reduce pain and addictive habits such as smoking and drinking.

They also said it can decrease stress by lowering the biochemicals that are related to anxiety and tension, and can help athletes improve their performance, speed up their recovery and eliminate fatigue.

Floating has something to offer most anyone, Hutchison wrote, except, according to the experts he interviewed, it is not recommended for people with serious biochemical depression or highly obsessive-compulsive people.

Research

Some research on flotation tank therapy has suggested it can help treat stress and pain.

Anette Kjellgren, a professor in the Department of Psychology at Karlstad University in Sweden, who has been involved with several studies, said in an email that flotation therapy has “excellent results for muscle tension pain, burn-out syndrome, depression and anxiety and sleep problems. We have researched the method for about 15 years.”

It works, she said, because during “profound stress reduction, stress hormones go down” and a “self healing system” of the body is activated during this deep relaxation.

“We have forgot how to relax. The tank reminds the body about the relaxation response again. But it is not only about stress reduction. Probably the mild altered state of consciousness induced does something beneficial as well.”

She said no health or safety risks have been documented, but there are some conditions when floating not is suitable, such as if a person has a psychotic disease or open wounds on their body. Effects on pregnancy have not been studied, she said.

Why locals float

The Neuro Float studio opened in October. It’s a unique spa service here. Portland has a few similar float tank businesses.

Studio director Sarah Krahn said most of her clients come in to deal with stress or pain, although many customers are also just curious about the experience.

Jerry Heck, a 63-year-old Bend man who used to practice meditation and who enjoyed using a float tank some 20 years ago in Seattle, went into Neuro Float recently just for relaxation.

“We all have a lot of stress in our lives. I didn’t realize I did. It’s a tool to help cope,” he said.

Like others, he added: “If you’re claustrophobic it might not be for you.”

Krahn is trying to market the float tanks to Bend’s athletic community.

Some top-level athletes have used float tanks to loosen up their bodies and to practice visualization techniques aimed at improving performance.

Hackett, the runner, can’t say whether floating has translated into better running, but she believes it has allowed her to keep running without pain and cramping.

Hours after the 10-mile Horse Butte, a local race on a Saturday in early April, she floated.

“(I) woke up Sunday with none of the muscle tightness I usually have after a running event,” she said.

Scotty Carlile, a 27-year-old athlete and student in Bend, said he first tried the float tanks last December because he thought it would be a good time for self-reflection, a good meditation session.

“The first thing that came to mind being an athlete was that I could see it being a good form of recovery — recovering from training or a specific athletic event,” he said. He’s used the float tanks at Neuro Float four times now and plans to return.

“I was very excited to give them a shot with little to no expectations,” he said. It’s relaxing and tranquil, he said, but his first experience “was quite difficult and very mentally challenging because being so still and alone with your thoughts for an hour-plus is tough sometimes in our hectic world.”

But each time he floats, the experience gets “exponentially better,” he said. “I do see the value in giving it more than just one shot. Just like yoga or meditation, you won’t necessarily see the potential benefits after just one experience, although you probably will leave much happier and less stressed than when you arrived.

“The way I’d describe how I feel once I floated is on par with how I feel once I’ve either finished a yoga class, or received either acupuncture or massage. You might want to give yourself a nice and easy transition back into reality.”

He can’t say if floating has improved his cycling, running, or studies, he said. “But so far I’ve definitely noticed an increased ability to stay focused on the task at hand.”

My experience

Tanya Hackett, the runner who is trading work time for floats at Neuro Float, told me about a promotional deal at Neuro Float recently. Athletes who run or cycle at least four times a week are invited to try a free float. So, I called for an appointment.

Checking out so intensely for 90 minutes is way out of my comfort zone. I have deadlines, tasks to complete, a desire for more movement, not less. So I figured it would be a good challenge.

Like all floaters, my experience began in a warm, darkly lit private room on an inversion table.

With my feet hooked in, I pivoted the table backward and rested with my head lower than my legs for 20 minutes, during which time I wore headphones and listened to sounds intended to affect my brain activity by tapping what are known as our “theta” brain waves — the ones that come during drowsy or meditative states. The sounds include ocean waves crashing or something like a thunder storm.

This time on the inversion table is considered preparation for the tank.

I took a shower and gingerly climbed into tank. The salty water felt slippery and was so buoyant that I had to hold on to a handle until I lay down and pulled the door shut over my head. Complete darkness. Silence.

The first 15 minutes or so I was sort of fidgety, bored, impatient.

Was that my phone ringing? Did I turn off the ringer? I worked through a mental check list of all the things I needed to get done that day. I tried to measure the passage of time. Seventy minutes of this? Good God.

It eventually all started to blend — time, space, sensations — and I relaxed.

I started with a float pillow under my neck to hold my head high above the water, but soon it became a distraction and I wanted nothing touching me. My body floated high in the super-saline water and my face stayed dry.

It was fascinating to see what my body did in a fully relaxed state, lacking gravity or structural support. My head tilted back, my lower back arched comfortably.

I had an uncertain feeling that I was drifting or rotating, in the water. Illusion or real? Occasionally I reached out a pinkie finger or a toe to touch the side of the tank to ground myself.

At some point, I fell into a state of semi-consciousness. I think I might have fallen asleep. It wasn’t an out-of-body experience by any means, nor was it entirely void of sensation. (Occasionally I heard the muted rumble of a truck out on Arizona Avenue.)

But lacking any real noise, my breath amplified like Darth Vader’s. My heartbeat reverberated through the tank, and seemed to create pulsating waves in the water. (Not sure if that really happened.) Something gurgling in my stomach sounded really loud.

At the end of 70 minutes, new age music is piped in to signify that time’s up. I reached overhead and pushed open the door, showered the salty residue off my body and redressed.

I was so zen I couldn’t remember where I parked my car. Once I found it, I wondered if I should really be driving. I returned to the newsroom — a large, brightly lit office, densely packed with electronic devices and busy people. It was a little overstimulating. I didn’t accomplish much the rest of the day. Being so zen is not conducive to meeting deadlines. I had to go home.

Like Hackett, I live with aches and pains, especially in my neck. Like Hackett, fully relaxing did seem to ease them, at least temporarily.

And, three days after my float, I had a great run in the Horse Butte 10-miler. Most notably, I didn’t trip and fall this year. I can’t say, of course, that it had anything to do with the float. But I can say I would try the experience again.

The cost

A single float costs $59, but buying multiple floats can lower the per-float price. Visit www.neurofloat.com or call 541-728-0505.