Flirting With Hypothermia, Part 3 - When the Water Only Hurts

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

I made it.

I made it to the lowest temperature the water will be this winter.

I’m damn proud of myself for that. Of course, I am. 39° is no small feat. Especially in the absence of neoprene.

Bathing suit, water shoes, swim cap with or without goggles – that has been my go-to for these swims.

When I started doing this, I wasn’t sure I would be able to go all winter.

Cold water swimming is a different animal once the water dipped below the 50° mark. Once the water falls down into the 40’s, it hurts. Like a lot.

I stay in for about 20 minutes when the water was in the upper 40’s, and about 15 when the water was in the lower 40’s.

Then it fell to 39.

From getting in to my waist to dipping my hands to fully submerging to swimming to getting out of the river, I stay in that water for anywhere from 8-11 minutes, and I’ve done that at least 3 times.

Except for adding a swim cap to keep my hair dry enough and keeping my head and face out of the water most of the time (no brain freeze), I made no other change to my routine other than staying in for shorter swims.

I’m impatient for the water to hit the 50° mark again. The water is starting to go up, but it’ll be a while before it’s in the 50’s.

There is no pleasure at the edge of this pain.

The best I can hope for is enough numbness to make the hurt tolerable. I can only acclimate so far to water this cold.

My swim buddy handles the water differently than I do. She rushes in, fully submerges, and shrieks as she stands waist deep and waits for me.

I still do the walk. I stop at my waist and wait for the torment to become bearable.

Cold burns.

How odd is it that the polar opposite of hot burns as much, yet without frying your flesh?

The lower half of my body – legs, hips, and waist – feel the sharp pricking of invisible pins and needles. My bathing suit provides some layer of relief for my pelvis, but not much.

It hurts so bad that I scream “WHY?! Why am I doing this?!”

As much as I’ve heard and read that cold-water swimming is good for me; at this point, I’m in it for the ego probably more than my physical and mental health.

Sometimes I’m tempted to get out. But I’m already here. Besides I can’t lose face with my swim buddy, and it’s only 10 minutes of torture.

I grit my teeth until the pain is tolerable and my legs are almost numb.

Then I thrust my hands in. Of course, I scream again.

I can feel my heart pounding from the stress and fear of it all. This is completely counter-intuitive for modern day humans accustomed to the easy comfort of a thermostat.

I struggle to regulate my breathing and my hands hurt like hell.

Finally, the pain is tolerable. I psych myself up to go under. Then I start swimming.

My breath comes in short gasps and all I can say is: goddammit motherfucker shit this sucks oh fuck Fuck FUCK!!!

The water burns at the edge of my neck between water and air. Sometimes I submerge to give myself some relief. I know it’s bad when I have to go into the cold water to rid myself of the pain at the edge of water and air.

My swim buddy is flailing and shrieking a few strokes away. We’re in this together, yet alone. We are each immersed in our own relationship with endurance of something so wretchedly uncomfortable.

I’m counting strokes to determine how many minutes I have to keep doing this. Counting distracts me.

Breaststroke is agonizing, so I switch to side-stroke. I don’t know why that gives me relief from the agonizing numb. Maybe it’s because I have to switch sides and that small change makes it somewhat bearable.

Shit goddammit shit fucking FUCK!!!

My swim buddy and I screech and holler and laugh.

I submerge fully again, and the gesture is bizarrely soothing.

When the water is this cold, there is no workout. I can’t swim as far or as fast in this temperature as I could before. My hands never fully get used to the stinging pain, and they stiffen quickly.

I never reach an easy breathing pattern. There is no euphoria while in the water. That comes later during the rewarming.

At least that’s the way it works for me.

At last, we’ve done this long enough and it’s time to get out of the river.

We’re more conservative and careful in water this cold. We don’t stay in so long, and I don’t feel like I’m tripping on mushrooms when I get out. I’m sure I would if I stayed in 5-10 minutes longer.

But this water could kill.

So the magic mushroom trippiness can wait until the water is back in the 50’s and there’s a more generous margin of error.

We rush to our cars to change clothes and start the process of rewarming.

We have our rhythm down.

My clothes are lined up in the order to dress in, so I don’t even have to think about it.

Wool hat on before peeling down the top half of my suit. Once the struggle is over and the first layer is on, I’m relieved.

My flirtation with hypothermia will not end in tragedy. At least, it won’t today.

I like soft wool that fits close. My swim buddy has made life easier with a large sweatshirt and pants that she can throw on without precise coordination from her hands.

This is the moment of reward. The endorphin rush is phenomenal now that it’s over.

Instead of sitting on the beach, my swim buddy and I sit in one of our vehicles with the heat on full blast. We sip hot tea, bullshit about our personal lives, and laugh at the sheer lunacy of what we do. What we just did yet again.

The laughter is the best part.

Maybe that’s why I keep doing this.

Well, that and the bragging rights, of course. Who doesn’t love getting mad respect for doing something crazy?

Update February 13, 2021

I spoke a little too soon when I wrote this piece. Due to the latest snowpocalypse in Portland, the water has dropped to the low to mid 30’s.

My swim buddy and I hit it at 35 degrees yesterday, after walking barefoot across the snowy beach. It was agony, and I didn’t even last 3 minutes.

But I still did it.

If anybody would like to read “Flirting with Hypothermia, Part 2 - Riding the Edge of Pain and Pleasure,” click HERE.