Taking the plunge: the thrill of chill

"C'mon Auntie Cathy!" Vivacious teen voices prod me along. "You can totally do this!"

I sincerely doubt it.

I love the water, don't get me wrong.  But give me blistering summer lake days or give me death.  A swimming hole at bathwater temps or see ya later.

The "bath" currently engaging me in a staring contest gives scant mind to my preference for lavender-scented soaks. Sophisticated this is not: repurposed appliance, janky and unglamorous.  Handily constructed from an abandoned chest freezer--red digital proudly displaying unthinkable number.  Just looking at it gives me goosebumps.

According to People Who Know, (aka anatomists) the surface temperature of human skin generally rests around 92-98 degrees.  So it stands to reason that surrounding the body in chilly 40ish liquid will deliver an epic shock to my system. Lovely.  But the contagion of youth infects me--and I'm no wimp when it comes to a triple-dog-dare.  I work up my gumption, jittering nerves apparent through restless feet.  Here goes nothin'.

I ungracefully scooch in--forcing my body downward--chin skimming the water line.  Water splooshes over the edge, even as my brain begins the shouting: "RETREAT. REPEAT. RETREAT." Fight or flight instincts blaring an ultimatum. Rude.

My youthful relations have blessedly briefed me on this battlefield of the mind. The first minute will be the hardest, seconds stretching to minutes.  The cold is disagreeable on every sensory level and any coherent thought will be of escape.  They aren't wrong. Weakly I attempt to focus; grasping for something, anything, I can control. The teenage spectators are shouting at me to breathe. "No, not like that.  Intentional breathing."  In: 1...2...3...4. Hold: 1...2...3...4. Out: 1...2...3...4." 

Well whaddya know. They're right again.

As brain and body settle into rhythm of breath, it dawns on me. I'm choosing neither fight or flight, but a third option: face and embrace the difficult.  At the 3 minute mark (the minimum plunge time recommended to receive optimal benefit) my ice bath partners break into applause and I emerge as Poseidon, grinning and dripping.  Could I conquer the world?  At this moment it doesn't seem an entirely bonkers possibility!  

From skeptical and reluctant beginnings, a healthy motivation is born. Eight months and counting, I'm on a first name basis with temporary discomfort--and more mornings than not find me wearing game face and swims shorts, preparing to plunge.

For many who dare try it, ice baths are a fad; so much machismo and flexing.  But when practiced consistently they are an incredible low-stakes way to boost mental clarity, improve resilience to stress, and most obviously, help to reduce inflammation in the body.  Maybe not immediately, but eventually.  As with many worthwhile things, consistency is key--the humdrum space where change shows her face.

Additional smarty-pants statistics would suggest that regular cold water therapy boosts our immune system by 29%; as well as providing a whopping 250% increase in dopamine (the "feel-good" hormone) levels that last several hours.  But it's not necessarily so much science that compels my habit.

What does persuade me to repetitively face my fear of the frigid?

For me, cold plunging illustrates well the intriguing overlap of mental and physical. Mind and body. My brain reminding my limbs who is actually in charge.  Proving in an embodied way that hard doesn't equal bad--watching my mental fortitude rise with the water. Apathy rinsed away, I emerge with resilience, energy, and ok, maybe just a leeetle flex. (I've earned it) Dividends of a discipline.

Note:

Close friends and family aside, not many are aware of this oddball routine I embrace.  There exists a paradox wherein the more you talk about a habit (rather than putting the energy toward doing it) the less likely you are to follow through on your intention. Reason being, we are creatures wired to get a buzz more easily from the act of talking about our goals than we do with implementing them in actuality. Eight months have elapsed since my first ice bath.  So hopefully I'm safe from that particular trap!  Now you know.