Even on the warmest of days poolside, I transform into a purple-lipped, goosebumps riddled, quivering mass. So, it seems very unlikely that I would willingly participate in a dip into the Boulder Reservoir on a winter’s day, much less plan it as a surprise adventure for the boyfriend on our anniversary (trés romantique, eh?). And yet, not so unlikely as a “Hey 2010, I’ll show you” preemptive reaction (…new year’s day is such a bully). No matter how trite it may sound, the “new year” still holds a modicum of power for me as a time for about faces and full speed aheads. Rather than fix on resolutions for change, I planned to shock my system to “reset” anew (as the Polar Bear Club ‘bers call it).
In its 27th year as a New Year’s Day jump the Polar Bear Plunge, much like other cold-water dunking rituals around the world and throughout history, is thought by some to stimulate the brain, relieve stress, and even shake up the psyche. All that and it makes a great story. More than 900 extremists participated this year, and though the line was long, once we hit the sand and everyone around us began to strip down to their water wear, time sped up. Before I could hesitate, much less realize I was losing feeling in my bare feet, the countdown was beginning for our group to rush into the frigid waters. I was in squeal mode and unexpectedly “cold” wasn’t my initial reaction as sand raced into water. My mind couldn’t catch up to my action in time enough to process it as “discomfort” – instead it translated the moment as pure exhilaration. And even more surprisingly, that purple-lipped, shivering body I’m more accustomed to calming post-poolside was no where to be found. Ah, to new beginnings.
Pre-Plunge and Post-Plunge
Certified Plungers
Boulder Reservoir, January 1, 2010