Dipping my toes...

Cold-water swimming--nuts or not?

I like cold water. To drink, to look at, to wash my sweaters with. Not to swim in. I am baffled by those hearty souls for whom a “refreshing” (aka freezing-my-tushie-off-cold) dip is an eagerly anticipated pleasure, not a form of water torture. You know them (or perhaps you are one), a bit holier-than-thou, humblebragging on the benefits of a daily swim. Are they secret masochists, parading their love of swimming as something they enjoy? Or maybe just plain old crazy.

North Shore before the water warms up (photo by author)

I do—sort of—get the Polar Bears, the Vineyard’s legendary dawn ocean dippers. There, the joy comes from “tradition, friendship, acceptance,” and shared camaraderie. So far as I can tell, they’re enduring the discomfort for community with a side order of wellness, not for the getting cold and wet part. I admire them and have (ever so briefly) considered making my way to the Inkwell some morning to give it a go. But…uh…maybe not.

The Inkwell (photo by author)

It’s the solo swimmers that have me truly perplexed. I know several, and otherwise they seem to be happy, normal people. My working premise is that they just don’t feel the cold in the same way that I do. They don’t mind being wet and don’t despise walking around in a damp bathing suit. They’re thin and healthy, and probably score high on the willingness to “do things that are good for you” scale. People with whom I have—at least on that measure—very little in common.

And so, I decided to do my own small (and highly unscientific) research to test my premise. The results:

Sarah swims because “it’s invigorating and releases happy chemicals in my brain that last all day…. it deeply relaxes me at the same time in a way that lasts.” (Ok, now I’m kind of jealous.)

Liz starts swimming in May (!) and takes her last dip around Halloween. “I do it for a lot of reasons: health, exercise, and grit. But the truth is… I love the rush. I’m not a thrill junky. You won’t catch me bungee jumping. But the rush of cold water is invigorating and also empowering. When you’re wading in it just seems unbearable but you keep going and then you porpoise in head first and then you get into the groove of the glide. The rest of your day is a cake walk!”

Larry swims from June to October, usually in a wetsuit, because “it’s good for both body and soul.” He doesn’t go in because it’s cold, but because he wants to swim. Amy swims “because it clears my head. It’s good for arthritis and circulation. And I like the feeling after two minutes when my skin gets sort of a burning hot feeling.” (Burning hot feeling? Um, nope, not for me.)

And Chris waxes philosophical. He says that a cold water swim “puts me totally in the moment. It’s invigorating and humbling—I’m just a speck of flotsam in the sea. The earth is powerful and bigger than me, but this makes me a part of it.”

Kettle pond (photo by author)

Science supports these claims. with studies showing positive impacts of cold water swimming on the psyche, cardiovascular and endocrine systems, and immune function, with a few caveats like…a slight risk of death from an icy plunge. Today’s article (coincidentally) in the Financial Times explains how cold water, as a controlled stressor, “can train the body to be more resilient,” triggering (among other benefits) the release of mood-regulating neurotransmitters and a significant reduction in stress levels 12 hours later.

But persuasive as the science and all those testimonials are, until the water hits 72 degrees, I still think I’m gonna stay in my beach chair, warm and dry.