Swimming With the Polar Bears

Today I did something I never thought I would do: I intentionally ran screaming into 45 degree water. And I was sober. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? Well, my good friend Brenda told me she was writing an article about the Polar Bear Club for the New York Daily News and asked me if I would like to take the plunge with her. When she told me her swim was scheduled for my birthday, the whole event seemed like kismet, and I knew I had to do it.

I am generally a warm water girl. I grew up in West Palm Beach, where the ocean was always above 75 degrees, even in February. I would never swim in my parents’ pool unless the water was more than 85 degrees. On several occasions, I have been canoeing or at the beach in New York, and I have been completely satisfied with only dipping a toe in the frigid water. My fiancé doubted that I would complete the Polar Bear swim today.

The gods were smiling down on me today, my 28^th birthday. For mid-December in New York, the temperature was a balmy 47 degrees with not a cloud in the sky. Jared and I met Brenda at Coney Island, and all the Polar Bears greeted us like new friends. They offered tips on how to maintain body heat and they emphasized that it was not a competition—if we weren’t feeling well, we should leave the water immediately.

There were approximately 50 swimmers at Coney Island today. Many were grizzled vets with thick Brooklyn accents, and some were newbies like us. Before the swim, we gathered in a huge circle in the sand and did jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. And then we charged the water.

I ran screaming in the wintry water, holding hands with Jared and Brenda. Immediately my lungs began to contract, and I had trouble breathing. I was taking deep breaths, but I couldn’t get enough air, and there was a searing pain my chest. The water was freezing, so cold that it felt like a thousand needles against my skin. Fortunately there were 50 crazy people in the water yelling and screaming, so I had a distraction from the pain. I got in up to my neck, which makes my swim official by Polar Bear standards.

In order to become an official Polar Bear, you have to do 12 swims in one season, which is not going to happen for me. I am a proud Polar Bear Cub, and I will have bragging rights for the rest of my life. Now I know that I can do anything I set my mind to—even swim in freezing cold water.