Plunging into the Cold
Cold Water Immersion has been a thing throughout our human history, and depending on who you ask, it can be traced back to ancient Egypt, Greece, or, honestly, just throw a dart at a map. In modern history it has seen a lot of attention with online storefronts offering many variants of the same thing: a human-sized bucket that you can fill with water and ice and dunk your body into for varying amounts of time. Bonus points if you take a photo of yourself doing it and post it to Instagram (#cringe).
But dig a little deeper (or perhaps we should crack the surface ice of our proverbial frozen pool) and you’ll find a rich tapestry of participants in this tradition of shocking one’s body in an immersion of very cold water. In Nordic cultures, this is called vinterbanding and is often complementary to sauna and steam bathing. In Native American cultures, cold water is also used as a cleansing agent within the context of some spiritual rituals. Of course, in our modern day we’ve seen many ice baths being used as rapid recovery therapies for fatigued athletes. As someone who has taken up long distance running on the cusp of turning 50, I’ve often wondered whether this could be something useful for my own recovery; I’m always looking for something to help me get better faster!
The trend of cold plunging in Cape May is very much alive. Several friends and colleagues have gone so far as to purchase their own plunge pools (typically plastic and inflatable) and even some larger metal stock tanks (yes, I have even perused the aisles at our local Tractor Supply). During my deep dive into how I could increase my cold-plunging efforts, I reached out to longtime West Cape May resident and neighbor, T.J. Belasco. T.J. has been plunging for a while and does so year-round. “I picked up the Ice Pod,” T.J. told me. “[It’s a] very simple inflatable barrel. I keep about 40 plastic water bottles frozen in the outside freezer, so I put them and a bucket of ice in every morning.” Except for the middle of summer, T.J. claims, he can keep his Ice Pod water down in the ideal temp of the high 40s and low 50s. Well, I don’t have an outside freezer and wasn’t sure how ready I was to commit to an Ice Pod, but I wanted to give it a try. Lucky for me the timing was perfect.
January 1, 2024, and my Facebook feed was filled with friends who had gone to Cove Beach earlier in the morning to do a Polar Plunge in the 47-degree ocean (47 degrees, it turns out, is a perfect cold plunge temperature, according to T.J.). While I failed to get up early enough to join the masses, I was able to talk Inga into bringing our dog Zuzu out for a walk on the beach while I did my first Polar Plunge. I arrived at the beach just before 4pm, wrapped in a hooded, fleece-lined jacket, wearing my swim shorts and flip flops, and carrying my towel. We walked together down to the water line. There were a few people scattered along the beach, all fully clothed for winter, taking a New Year stroll. The sky was bright, a mix of open blue and some scattered wisps of cloud. The water was calm; serene, even, with only a small swell of a wave breaking right near the tideline. I decided it would be best to just go for it rather than try and take my time heading in. Stripping off my coat and kicking off my shoes, I trotted down to the water. The frigid temperature was immediate once I hit the water, but I maintained momentum and let the icy cold wrap around my ankles, shins, quads, and then waist. I needed to keep moving before I let my mind get the better of my decision and turn me around. I felt my breathing quicken and shorten, and I aimed for a small swell of a wave to go head-first into a shallow dive.
The cold stung my face, quickly turning to an intense sensory rush, like each pore was electrically charged. In fact, it was more than my face; it was everything on my body both in and out of the water. I eased into a floating position, on my back, and let my toes break the surface in front of me, intentionally slowing my breathing, and instinctively counting…10…11…12…13…. My goal was to stay in for a minute or more, which I quickly exceeded as I became more comfortable in the discomfort.
It was good. Everything was fine. I wasn’t going to die. My wife and dog were only 50 yards away. “Surrender to the cold” became my mantra. After about 90 seconds I made my move towards the shore and eventually went back to my towel. A quick towel-off and getting my coat back on, and the euphoric rush of what just transpired washed over me. My feet, which were now exposed in the cold air, were warm compared to the water, and I walked barefoot in the cold sand, feeling them regain equilibrium. This was wonderful, and I could already tell it would not be the last time I would do this.
In fact, the Cove Plunge became my regular go-to recovery treat after long runs over the spring and early summer. I have no clinical proof that it had an effect on my recovery speed or quality, but I can say unequivocally that it felt damn good.
The jury is still out on whether I’ll purchase an Ice Pod or similar device for the house. I still need an outside freezer to make it work, but as a West Cape May resident I feel incredibly fortunate to have a communal cold plunge pool for most months out of the year.
So, what say you? You gonna take the plunge?
