Whoo-eee! That's Cold!

Yes, there are inexplicable mysteries in the world. Some have been discussed ad nauseum by the public at large (the pyramids, crop circles, Leonard DiCaprio, etc.) and some are probably only mentioned by Jerry Seinfeld (Why do we say something is "brand" new? Can something be brand old? And why do we say the "very" first time? Can there be a very second time? etc etc.) But other mysteries don't receive widespread attention; so it becomes my job to publicize these oddities and raise questions to increase public awareness, and possibly generate funding for research.

Today's question is: Why do people swim in lakes when it's SO freakin' cold?

OK, I guess I do understand the people who are training to swim the English Channel, or who have a walrus fetish or something. And there are those who were always picked last for Bombardment in gym class, and therefore feel compelled to prove that they've grown up to be as tough as Gary Busey. But why would anyone else be swimming in icy water when our fair city has many heated indoor pools that are open to the public?

There's a doctoral thesis in this for somebody. It probably wouldn't put you in Stephen Hawking territory (or even at the level of, say, Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar), but at least you might be credited with naming a new psychological anomaly: You could call it "Deep Unconscious Metabolic-Based Arctic Swimming Syndrome" and maybe even develop some sort of acronym to go along with it.

Anyway, you can probably deduce that the reason I bring this up is that I went out to the lake on Monday, and yes, did get into the water. I was curious whether I could tolerate a 57° immersion without a wetsuit, so I waded into the water up to about mid-thigh and waited to see how long it would take to acclimate. The skin on my legs turned a lovely shade of fire-engine red, and my toes felt like they'd been trampled by wildebeests. I tried to go into Kwai Chang Caine mode and zen out to the point where I could philosophically accept and embrace the chill...but just wasn't successful in channeling my inner Shaolin. I climbed back onto shore and grabbed my wetsuit.

That, my friends, was an ordeal in itself. Neoprene is more closely related to Velcro than to Teflon, and doesn't cooperate all that well when you're already cold. Plus, I bought the suit a couple of decades ago when I was, um, less muscular (ahem), and it's a tad tight these days. Fortunately, a couple of other folks on the beach took pity when watching my wiggling, and helped me get the darn thing zipped up. I couldn't breathe very well since it was crushing my chest, but at least I was warmer. I put on my cap and goggles, and sloshed back into the pond.

The worst part was the brain-freeze feeling from putting my face into the water. It just plain hurt, and I couldn't keep my head down for the first few hundred yards. But eventually, I either got used to it or lost all sensation (hard to tell), and was able to get in a pretty good swim. At the end, I was feeling so good that I fed the onlookers the straight line "My face hurts", with the full expectation someone ashore would say "No kidding; it's killing me!" But no one took the bait. (I guess there's some empathy among the icewater swimming community.)

I even peeled the wetsuit off and swam another couple hundred yards without it. It's amazing what the body can do once it gets used to the conditions. Of course, there is a price to pay -- when I got home, I completely depleted my water heater's contents while I stood in the shower, and still had to wrap up in blankets afterwards to re-warm myself to my normal comfort level.

Was I glad I did it? Well, sure. I mean, I had already driven all the way into the park; might as well get some exercise out of it. But would I do it again?

Why not? In about a month. Let's get the snow season over with and throw in a few 90+ days and I'll be right back out there. In the meantime, I'm going to nuke a cup of hot chocolate and throw another log on the fire.

Have a great day!