Sublime

Olsson and I emerge from the shady tranquility of Golden Gate Park, stopping to face the wind-ripped Pacific Ocean. We’ve just jogged a few miles, inhaling fast and exhaling very long breaths to a count of about seven or higher, trying to keep our lungs roughly half full.

And contrary to what most of us might think, no amount of snoring is normal, and no amount of sleep apnea comes without risks of serious health effects.

Mike’s own instructional video on mewing has been viewed a million times.

As the intensity of exercise increased during this phase, the rate of breathing decreased. At the final, 200-watt stage, one subject who had been mouthbreathing at a rate of 47 breaths per minute was nasal breathing at a rate of 14 breaths a minute. He maintained the same heart rate at which he’d started the test, even though the intensity of the

the respiratory equivalent of fasting.

Respiration, I’m hoping, can also lead to restoration. Starting today, I will attempt to heal whatever damage has been done to my body over the

rhinology research

At three hundred feet, we are profoundly changed. The pressure at these depths is nine times that of the surface. The organs collapse. The heart beats at a quarter of its normal rate, slower than the rate of a person in a coma. Senses disappear. The brain enters a dream state. At six hundred feet down, the ocean’s pressure—some eighteen times that

Nayak first recommended a “Drano” approach in the form of a saline nasal rinse, sometimes with a low-dose steroid spray, a treatment that costs next to nothing and can be self-administered.