Okay, so I can swim – but in the winter? What’s up with that?

I wonder about that too. What weird compulsion do I have to jump into very cold water and attempt to swim? I don’t have a coherent answer – other that it gives me a real high. And, I guess there is something in me that enjoys going against the grain.

When I was a kid and walking on the Brighton Beach boardwalk with my older cousins I recall seeing old fat guys jumping into the ocean off season and thinking that would be a kick. And the day after each New Year I’d see the photos in the news of the Coney Island Polar Bear Club frolicking in the surf and thinking, “I should have done that!”

And one year I did.

By that time the annual plunge became a fundraiser for Camp Sunshine and at least I would have a plausible reason for jumping into the ocean in the winter. In those days it wasn’t such a mob scene; probably just a few hundred people. I certainly didn’t stay in more than a minute but the excitement was there and I started showing up on Sundays. It was somewhat disorganized but at some point I did the required number of “swims”, was voted in as a member, and got my patch.

I go to Coney Island most Sundays from November to April and join the crew – which really is a community. What I like best is that the community takes in all of what New York City is – old, young, men, women, races, religions and classes. With few exceptions I haven’t a clue what anyone does for a living. On occasion I will run into a member on the street – it always takes a while to recognize each other with clothes on.

So what is it really like to be in very cold water? Honestly, I am always a bit nervous as I wade in. But then we form a circle, scream and play – the camaraderie is infectious. After the first minute the cold doesn’t matter because I am really “in the moment.” How often can we really say that and mean it? Well, it’s true for about 8-9 minutes. At 10 minutes the realization that “Man, it is really cold!” hits me over the head (and all my digits) and I know it’s time to get out. Altogether it is as close to a Zen-like experience as this Jewish kid will ever get.  Diane, upon watching us come out of the ocean once observed, “I’ve never seen so many happy people.”

This year in anticipation of China I decided to ramp up the experience and actually swim – not just play. I’ve forgone rubber gloves and booties (“going commando”) and wear goggles, ear plugs and a cap. For most of my ten minutes I do the breast stroke in and around the screaming masses. I’ve even gone out with the CIBBOW’s on a few Saturday mornings – serious swimmers that I can only hope to emulate someday.

The whole winter swimming thing is catching on. In fact the club has to limit new members. And a few of the members are going to competitions around the world in addition to my China-bound excursion (which we’re still not sure if it is a competition… or a festival…or a photo op) . There is an International Ice Swimming Association – members need to swim 1 mile in 41F water. Not many members yet – that takes some years of training. But if you do it you get a really neat red jacket. Very cool!