Photo of Juanita Beach Park in Kirkland, WA, by heystax, Flickr Creative Commons license.
**
One can only dive into cold water so many times and still find it surprising, right?
When nearly warm air was all around (this is Seattle, so I won’t say balmy), emptying myself into a cold body of water was no sweat, literally. It was also relatively pleasant.
Since the weather has turned chilly and dark, it’s no longer a snap.
As I had last immersed in Lake Washington 10 days prior, I was getting antsy.
And a friend had recently had acquired a wetsuit. The accompanying rubber gloves, he complained, didn’t keep his hands warm. Wow, I thought: If gloves don’t do the trick, am I really thinking of jumping?
I was.
Later, while standing on a Lake Washington dock, I was no longer certain.
I was standing on rough wood in 53 Fahrenheit weather in the early fall darkness.
In two weeks, the dock had changed from busy to empty. The yachts were gone, moved to some warmer or drier spot. From the beach came the wild shouts of a three-year-old boy as he ran sprints with his father.
For a moment I thought, well, this is crazy. The night was clear and colder than usual. The darkness of the Northwest wet season had descended.
Even as I considered turning back, settling on the bench and fitting my feet back into my socks, I thought: No, I don’t want to sit at fireplaces all the time. I don’t want the warmth that seeps in and slows me from taking chances.
Tea and blankets can be pleasant in winter; don't get me wrong. But I knew it was necessary to take the change.
So I pushed off from the dock, flailed in dark space for a second, felt myself plunge into the water.
On the dock, I had thought: It may be colder than you’re expecting.
The water was shockingly cold. I thrashed ten or eleven feet to the metal ladder, feeling that my arms were slower than usual to hit and sink into the water.
Hypothermia wasn't imminent -- but I was more than ready to get out quickly.
The air above the ladder felt almost tropical.
As I sat on the bench and flicked off moisture, I felt indomitable.
This was the me that jumps off docks into cold water.
##
