Getting back to it

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Today we had a neighborhood picnic across the street at the park.  The entire time, I kept looking longingly, over to the small patch of blue that I identified as a pice of Utah Lake.  I knew I had to make at least a trip, today.

So after things would down at the park, I took the Tacoma and drove over to Utah Lake State Park, to see about water temperature.

When I reached my hand down into the water by the jetty, it felt cold, but not prohibitively so.  So I brought  my towel down to the lowest rocks to the water and started in.

It.  Was.  Freezing.

Freezing, I say.  But the temperature wasn’t the only thing I noticed.  The water was up to my neck!  The last time I was able to get into the water at the jetty was last year, when the water was up to just above my waist.

So we have some water to play in, now.  Unless it’s sent to farmlands, etc.

I stayed in for less than a minute, but can’t wait to come back and start doing my jetty laps.

And a video to appease the request of nocturnal bats, who apparently have access to the internet…

Les Mor Miserables Ice Breaker Swim

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Location:  Great Salt Lake Marina
Temperature:  31.4
Distance:  400 yards
My time:  8:44
This morning I woke up at 4 AM and took notice of my heartbeat.  It was…loud.  Distracting, even.  I tried to calm down and go back to sleep, but I just couldn’t relax.  I kept thinking about the Icebreaker Polar Bear Swim that I’d be doing at 12 PM.  Some concern crept in as I remembered part of the warning from the race director.  He had talked about blood pressure and heart issues.  I’m relatively healthy, but man, I don’t feel like myself in freezing water.  So I lay in bed, nervous for my swim, only eight hours away.
We got up at 8 and we got ready for the day.  It takes a lot of preparation to make sure you’re ready for something like an ice swim (only speaking of the day of, here.)  But we finally piled into the van and drove one hour Northwest of Provo, to the Great Salt Lake Marina.
Once there, my nerves set it.  Soon, the first two people jumped into the water (31.4 degrees, because salt water freezes at a lower temperature.)  Only two people went at a time and each swimmer had a dedicated kayak (thanks, Josh and Gords!)  My name was called (along with another swimmer, named Sue) and we walked down the boat ramp and stood nervously.  We were instructed to go ahead and get ready to jump in (take off our hoodies and boots) with two minutes to go, but Sue and I both agreed that we’d rather stay warm up until the last available seconds.
With 10 seconds left, everyone watching started counting down and we removed our extraneous clothing quickly.  Then we started in…
We walked quickly down the ramp into the water and pushed into the coldest water I have ever felt.  This is not an exaggeration.  Anything that I’ve felt that was this cold, was ice.  But mind over matter quickly became key.
Within 20 seconds, my fingers and toes started going numb.  I’ve been thinking for two hours about how I’d describe what it felt like, swimming in this water.  I’m still sort of searching for the right words, but it’s sufficient to say that it was surreal.  Maybe “painful” is apt.  ”Shocking”?  At two minutes in, I was frozen.  My arms struggled to keep their form, my legs dutifully kicked, like I’d taught them, all through 2012.  But soon feeling was gone from my arms and legs.  Not completely, but enough that the last sentence is hardly hyperbole.
I managed to stay in front of Sue for most of the first half.  This was important to me, not because I was trying to win or beat anyone, but because I know that I’m swimming with incredibly experienced and knowledgeable people.  If I could stay with Sue for at least a little while, then I’d be off to a good start.  There was a 15 minute time limit for this swim, so if I had a good start, then I’d more than likely make it back before I was mercifully pulled from the water and into a kayak.
We hit the 200 meter point, where a buoy sat, freezing it’s orange triangle off.  At this point, Sue started to kick my butt.  I mean, she TOOK OFF.  I wouldn’t see her again until we were out of the water.
When I turned around to head back for the last half, Josh (my kayaker and open water neighbor to the North) started yelling at me (encouragingly.)  Every so often he’d lie to me about how close I was and how I was “almost there.”  Being a seasoned marathoner, I knew that he was full of it.  When running the Saint George Marathon, you can be six miles from the finish, but there are still spectators yelling to you that you “look great” (lie #1) and that you’re almost there (serious lie # 2.)
But by default, Josh became correct.  Soon, I really was “almost there.”  The last two minutes of swimming, I’m pretty sure I was grunting like a dying elk every time I took a breath on my left side.
After approximately several hours (in my mind), I reached the end.  I stood up and gave a fake, arms up, triumphant “I’m great” symbol with my hands and was handed my hot water in a milk jug.  I poured that over my body and barely felt it’s warmth.  I was helped into a van, where several other miserable but elated (kinda?) swimmers sat, happy to be done.  Sue was in there, winning at recovering as well.
After about 25 minutes of warming up, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, I managed to find my family in the van.
Wow.  I’ll never do that again.
Probably.
Now it’s time to go watch Les Miserables.
Irony.

Christmas Eve-Morning Polar Bear Plunge in Utah Lake

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At 8:20 AM, this morning, Kris Cole and his family met me and my family at the Nelsonshack (the real one).  We then drove down to Utah Lake for the first Christmas Eve Day Oh-Man-Please-Don’t-Let-This-Be-Annual Polar Bear Plunge at Utah Lake.  At about 8:30, Kris and I walked down into the barely-unfrozen water of Utah Lake.

Minute one:  I was shocked.  Kris didn’t just jump out, as I’d expected.  One of the first things your brain does, when you haven’t done this before is order your body out of the water, ASAP.  As soon as we were in the water, I kept telling Kris to to “breathe, breathe, breathe…” and he did.  He actually sat in that 34-ish degree water (coldest I’ve been in) and invited the pain.  It was great.  After about a minute, he called it good and stepped out to dry off and warm off.  Very impressive for a first time winter dip.

4:30 minutes:  Soon, the routine for getting my updates on time was for me to shout up to the van where Wendy was, with one word:  ”Time!”  When she called back, “4:30″, I admit it was a bit discouraging.  There was a secret part of me that wanted to see if I could stay in for 15 minutes.

9:30 minutes:  When I got the report that I was 30 seconds from 10 minutes, I really didn’t feel that 15 minutes was going to happen.  I was already chattering and felt colder than I’d expected.  But I stayed in and just hoped that things would settle down, again.

12:00 minutes:  Sure enough, things calmed down and I felt a little bit of warmth come over me.  It actually scared me.  I know that the lake didn’t heat up.  My guess is that the warmth that I felt was false.  It was probably in my mind, so I knew that my time was winding down for how long I’d stay in.

14:00 minutes:  But then I got the report that I’d been in for 14 minutes.  That was a relief.  I knew I could make it to 15.

15:00 minutes:  Wendy let me know that I’d hit 15 minutes, so I went for a little, 10 second swim.  I put my head under and swam that way I normally would during the summer.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.  One of two things had happened:  1.  I’m getting better at handling cold.  2.  My body was in “shut-down” mode, so it wasn’t too painful.  Either way, my time was up, so I got out.

Those who go with me have no idea how comforting it is to have someone who’s able to rescue me, should something go wrong.  Earlier this week, it was Rob Reimer.  Today it was Kris Coles.  He stood there, wrapped in a blanket (and was probably freezing.)  But he stayed with me to make sure things were ok.  I appreciated it so much.

Why?

I keep getting asked why I do this.  I’ve been working on an answer.  But I’m afraid that there is no satisfactory answer for the question.  Let me do my best, though:

1.  Because I can.  There is something very satisfying, knowing that I’m pushing myself.  Hard.  There really is truth to knowing how alive you are when you become uncomfortable.

2.  Because others suffer much more than I do.  One of the most unbelievable things for me to understand, is how people can survive without the modern comforts of home.  I have heat, food, and shelter.  There are so many who don’t.  When I immerse myself in freezing water, it helps me to appreciate the wonderful things that The Lord has given me.

3.  Health benefits:  There are many studies that show that dipping yourself in cold water helps your body combat disease.  There are also studies that show that it’s bad for you.  So sort of a typical medical study done on something a bit excessive.  I subscribe to the health benefits ticket, because I feel really good when it’s over.  And I feel good all day.

I’ll work harder to articulate these thoughts, but those are some initial feelings on cold water swims.

11 minutes in Utah Lake (it’s snowing!)

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20121215-111529.jpgThis morning, a new friend (although I’ve known him in church circles for a while) picked me up at my house and we drove down to Utah Lake for a polar bear swim that we’d sort of committed to, on a whim, last night at 10:30 PM.

I was nervous, because the last time I’d been to the lake, which was a couple of weeks ago, it wasn’t as cold. My little brother, David, had gone with me, and I’d only stayed in for 1:17 minutes (and most of that time was just at waist level.

We jumped out of Rob’s warm truck and stripped to our jammers, started the clock, then jumped in.

20121215-111535.jpgAfter about 10 seconds, Rob jumped out.

That’s when I realized that this trip to Utah Lake was a set of two missions, not one. Rob has done his fair share of polar bear swims and has some experience with some pretty cool cold-water adventures, like a bridge jump at New Year’s, and he jumped into Lake Samammish, which is in Washington.

He quickly took up post keeping me distracted, by talking to me and periodically watching the clock. At 4:20 minutes, I knew I was good for 5. At 6 minutes, I knew I was good for 10. So I sat, stewing in Utah Lake, while Rob laughed at what must have been 10 minutes of some of the stupidest stuff I’ve ever conceived and, without filter, shared.

20121215-111539.jpgAt one point, I realized that most of the pain that I’d felt in the first two minutes was gone. I’d gone past that and was experiencing my hands and feet beginning to numb.

Rob started taking video of me at about 10:30 minutes, and when he’d finished, so was I. I started crawling out of the water, onto the unforgiving boulders and rocks. Normally, this stuff doesn’t bother me, but without the ability to form my feet around the rocks and feel what I was doing, I felt like I was just smashing and cutting myself, as Rob helped me back to his truck.

20121215-111543.jpgWe took a quick picture outside of his truck. Then, stammering and shivering (I hadn’t really started shivering until I’d gotten ouf of the water, I piled into Rob’s truck, where a heater started to dethaw me.

At first I was just cold and shivering. But as we started to drive away from the park, my fingers (tips, mostly) started hurting like I’ve never felt before. Hammers were pounding at the tips of my fingers as Rob and I laughed and I whimpered (at the same time.)

This pain lasted until I made it home and managed to grab my stuff and head inside.

20121215-111547.jpgHurridly, I made my way to the bedroom and locked the door. I started a hot shower andjust stood there, letting the cold wash off. Everything stung. My feet burned and my body shivered.

Once I’d warmed up a bit, I transitioned into bath mode. I soaked for a good 15 minutes and finally felt good enough to get out and dry off.

20121215-112648.jpgI’m now writing this, all warmed up and feeling good. My fingertips still feel funny. Like some of the nerves are still making their way back. I keep feeling pinpricks all over my body.

But I’m proud. I’ve been watching the Wasatch Polar Bear guys in SLC doing this stuff and they’re just awesome. So today was Utah County’s answer to the example set by Josh, Goody and crew. Without the stuff that I’ve read from those guys, there’s no way I’d push my body into the cold like this.

Thanks, guys!

And thanks to Rob, who absolutely made this possible. There is no way (NO WAY) that I could have done this without him.

PS: My time ended up being 11 minutes. I could have stayed in longer, but, as I told Rob, I’m just getting to know the limits of my body in cold water, so easy does it.

(Here’s a little video of me, just before I could get out.)

Gathering water levels, clarity and temperature information on Utah Lake

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For a few weeks, I’ve been half-heartedly (I have a full time job, too) searching for a website that could give me more information on Utah Lake conditions.  It would be awesome if you could daily, or at least weekly, find out how deep the water is, what the temperature has been like.

So I reached out to @UtahLake (Utah Lake Commission) on Twitter and called the Utah Lake State Park, who referred me to their website.  But I don’t see anything like what I’m looking for on their web site.

I finally emailed the USU Water Quality Extension guys to see about me gathering this every couple days and sending to them.  Sometimes the easiest way to get what you’re looking for is to buck up and do it, yourself.  :)