I really enjoy a cold dip.

On a hot day, or a rainy day, or sometimes a snowy day, a quick dip in an icy cold body of water is right up my alley.  Swimming around a bit can really bring me back to life when things are a little off.  If I feel a bit sleepy, it will wake me up.  If hungover, I’ll spring right back to sobriety.  If bored, it brings some adventure to the day.  If cold, sometimes, somehow, it makes me feel a bit warmer.

My friends and family have been known to mock me for lacking nerve endings in my body, or for being a duck, or fish, or other watery creature.

Today, I decided to try the Coney Island Polar Bear Swim.

As you can read on their website, they club is the oldest of its sort in the country, dating back to 1903.  They swim every sunday throughout the winter and welcome guests to come try it out.  Apparently their reputation has gotten around – they’ve been featured on the Daily Show and Seinfeld – and I first heard about them from a like-minded swimmer/burner/coworker a few weeks ago.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, imagining a couple hearty souls changing into swimsuits on the beach, and was pleased to see they had really established a comfortable arrangement.  Arriving on the Coney Island boardwalk at 12:30pm, I first noticed a street sign designating “Coney Polar Bears.”  Inside the meeting area, over 30 people socialized in swimsuits drinking tea and hot chocolate.  Someone met me at the door, handed me a waiver, and introduced me to the president of the club, a friendly fit man in his 50s or 60s.

Entering the water – note the excited photographers stage left

I changed into my bikini and wetsuit booties (recommended for potentially sketchy beach conditions).  The president called up the First Time Bathers: myself and two other women about my age.  He explained what would happen.  First, calisthenics on the beach: “We’ll do 6 or 8 jumping jacks, really an invigorating work out.”  After entering the water, we’d all join hands and make a big circle.  Then, you play, or whatever you want to do.  “It’s not a contest! When you get cold, just get out.”

“I’ve been doing this for 30 years!  I hope you enjoy.”  He concluded.

Circling up

We took photos, walked out to the beach, and handed off our towels to non swimming boyfriends, girlfriends, and other buddies.  A hoard of people from the boardwalk followed us to the water’s edge, cameras drawn.  Jumping jacks complete, we entered the water.  It was really cold.  I would estimate maybe 44 degrees. (ok, just looked it up, actually 40 degrees.)  We held hands and cheered.  I dunked my head, feeling great, legs getting pretty numb, and ran for the beach.

I was the first one out.

Quick evacuation while the rest of the team plays on

I considered this for a moment while I toweled off.  Although allegedly it was “not a contest,” I still couldn’t help feeling like the lamest polar bear.  “I’m going back in,” I told Eric, and misinterpreting that to mean that I was ready to change, he responded, “ok, I’ll follow you.”  He got the idea when I handed him back the towel.

As I reentered the water, the other polar bears were jumping up and down in the water, throwing frisbees and balls, swimming back and forth, as though they were not on the verge of hypothermia.  I jumped around for a moment also and dunked again.  Noticing that my legs were alarmingly red, I decided I was actually done this time, and ran back out of the water.

red, red legs

Still, no one else had come out.

As we walked up back to the changing room, I took another glance at the 30 or so people still frolicking in the water.   These folks had taken swimming to a whole new level.  My dip and run strategy had marked me for the JV polar bear I was.   The blood was starting to return to my legs and it felt like I had gotten into a hot tub when really I was just standing on the beach.  Apparently, I’m going to need a bit more practice.