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…

I’ve started much too far into my story.

This morning, I drove up to Deer Creek for a 300-yard (or thereabouts) swim. I met Josh Green, Jim and Connie Hubbard up at the boat ramp. After some nervous banter, Josh and I watched as Jim started into the water. It then became imperative that Josh and I follow suit (ha?), because the clock starts when a fellow polar bear swimmer hits the cold water.

When my feet entered, I became very confident. I immediately recognized that Deer Creek was a few degrees warmer than the Utah Lake beatings I’ve been taking (Man, I’ve really got to start writing in more optimistic terms, when talking about polar bear swims.) So I dropped right on it and started to breathe deep and concentrate, as the steam rose off of the water (it was very cold air, but slightly warmer water.)

Josh and Jim started sort of bobbing out into deeper water. I didn’t want to ask how far we were going, because I didn’t want to be the wuss of our threesome. So I quietly kicked and maneuvered myself after them.

And then it hit me. “Hey, it might be warmer water than what I enjoy at Utah Lake, but swimming makes it three times colder!” It’s true. You can sit very still in freezing water and soon a small blanket of warmth (“warmth”) envelopes you. Your skin literally warms the immediate water around you. But as soon as you move your body, it comes into contact with new, freezing water.

All of a sudden, I got really nervous. And what follows is very confusing.

I know that many will blame the cold and pre-hypothermia for what happened next. Josh was clearly making a move for one of the buoys that sat out, 150 yards (ish) from shore. Without knowing whether I could make it, or not, I followed him. Weird, huh? I have a family, a life (we’re not debating this), and quite enjoy my days here upon Earth. But for some reason, I had to go for it. Maybe I didn’t think that there was any risk. But the fact is- I didn’t know.

If things had gone south, as they do in 40 degree water, I doubt that Josh could have saved me. He’s one of the most competent and able swimmers that I am associated with, but he was also dealing with some pretty freaking extreme conditions. It’s a handful to swim, but quite another to swim in 40 degree water (let alone rescue an incompetent and overconfident buddy.)

Joshed reached the buoy before I did, but when I arrived, I noticed that it was completely frosted over (as Josh noted on his blog, also.) And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of the buoy. I didn’t care that it was chained to some unknown object at the bottom of the lakebed. I didn’t care that all of his associated <strikethrough>buddys</strikethrough> buoys were my mortal enemies. When I arrived at the buoy, I gently bumped it with my hand, grateful to have something that could support me, if I needed it, 150 yards away from shore.

And then, as soon as I touched it, I turned from it. I didn’t worry that it was going to “get me” (although I contend that if it was this buoy’s will, it could have.) Truly, this was a buoy I could trust. I could sense it.

As I swam, head-up (most people don’t dip their head into the water at this temperature, since you lose approximately 124940304849% of your body’s heat through your head), backstroke, breaststroke, I realized that the trip back was going to be difficult. I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. My breathing was labored. My heart was pounding. So I finally caved and decided to sort of let Josh know what condition I was in.

“How’re y-y-y-y-oooou d-d-d-d-d-oin’ J-J-J-J-osh?”, I managed. He replied that he was fine. So the two of us, both liars, continued to plod toward shore. At one point, I figured I had a 78 percent chance of surviving. A minute later, my feet hit the bottom. All three of us, Josh, Jim and myself walked up on the boat ramp so that we could continue to lie about how it had been been a “bit” difficult.

Connie and Jim, both saints, offered me some hot water from a milk-gallon jug. We all poured the water over us to start the recovery process. I noticed that my feet immediately stuck to the alphalt. Apparently, the ground was cold.

I got into my truck and Josh stood there, like a man, outside my truck, still in the cold, and we discussed how things had gone. We both agreed that this swim is better suited for a Swim Safety Device. Things in these conditions (in any open water condition, really) can turn and go wrong, so fast. It’s better to be safe than sorry. Next time, I’ll sport the SSD if we go out into deep water.

On New Year’s Day, there will be a few of us who do the 400 meter swim at the Great Salt Lake. Dang. I’m nervous. I should be. I don’t have nearly as good a relationship with the GSL buoys, as I do the ones in Deer Creek.

What a great swim.

Nervous, but getting ready to go in, anyway.

Me, Jim and Josh, acting like this doesn’t bother us one bit. At least one of us disagreed.

Bobbing for Morons. Fun.

I told Josh that, these events will either create friendships or mortal enemies for life.

Our feet were sticking to the ground! The ground, I say! The Hubbards were awesome to give us hot water and apple juice.

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.

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.

After 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.

At 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.

We 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.

Hurridly, 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.

I’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.)

Perfect conditions and no swim. Uhg.

I got to Utah Lake and hit the south jetty, as has become tradition.  As soon as I got my SSD out of the truck, I knew my swim was over.  I’d forgotten the strap that connects the device to my waist.  The water was choppy and there was no one around, so I didn’t feel comfortable doing my usual mile lap, down the jetty and back.

So instead I jumped in, swam against the chop for about a

Wind was pushing the water in a southeast direction. Makes for a nice half mile back.

minute, then I turned around and came back.  One thing I’ve really tried to do is to be careful when I’m swimming alone.  My only precaution is that Swim Safety Device, and Utah Lake has swallowed up too many people, recently.  She is hungry and need not be tempted.

But as you can see from the pictures, I was the one who lost out, having forgotten my safety equipment.  The

A beautiful scene and one jetski.

water was perfect.  I’m pretty sure that when I left the wind picked up just a touch, which would have been pretty fun.  But that swim will have to be another day.  I have work that I need to do for my employer, so there’s not time to go back.

One more thing I forgot to mention- the jetty, harbor and lake was devoid of any human being (save me and a jetski.)

Man, I wish I had time. The water is even shallow enough my kids would enjoy standing up in this and playing in the waves.

It was perfect, I tell you.

Another day; another day.

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.  :)

Cam takes the Swim Safety Device for a test swim

This afternoon, things were looking good for a quick swim at Utah Lake.  I sent the word out over Swim Without Walls Facebook page and a couple of people responded.

I had heard that a couple of people might come down, so I waited and sat in the truck, charging my phone (since it records my swims.)

I noticed three men in a boat, only about 50 feet off of the jetty, pulling in white bass after white bass.  Each were pulling in a fish in only about a minute at a time.  What is the limit on those things?

My buddy Cam met me (another SWW friend wasn’t able to make it, unfortunately) and we jumped into the stagnant, mossy-green water.  When the wind picks up, a lot of the mossy water issues is alleviated when the water currents move fresh water in, near the jetty.

The water level at Utah Lake was especially low, today.  I wish I could find a website that would explain where the water is going.  It would help me to understand how the water is

In the middle of these rocks, you can see the waterline and why I keep complaining about shallow water.

distributed.

We ended up swimming almost a mile, but something wasn’t right with my GPS, which recorded only .66 miles.  Stupid.  Lying.  GPS.

One of the things that Cam and I noticed about this swim was that, every 20 feet or so, the water would shift from warm to cold, warm to cold.  I wonder what causes that.

Anyway, it was fun and we took our

sweet time.  Cam’s a faster swimmer (just like Patrick and everyone else is), so he would swim out, wait for me a bit, and then we’d continue on.  It was a lot of fun.  Hopefully we’ll start to get a few more people down to the lake to enjoy some group swims.