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Bringing in The New Year With a Splash

kkennedy
Explorer C

Nothing prepares you for the cold rush that takes your breath away.  Your limbs contract and pure survival mode kicks in to get you out of the freezing water.  The problem is, the air is even colder.

And that’s how I started out my New Year this year, at an ice dive just outside Minneapolis.  Let me just start out by saying that by nature, I’m a lizard.  Heat makes me happy.  If there is a spot of sun baking the ground, I’m out in it.  Cold is something I just avoid.   So what the heck could make me jump into Lake Minnetonka on a day when the wind chill was down to somewhere in the single digits?  Yeah, I’m questioning it myself.

Back in October I got an email from one of my best friends who lives just outside Minneapolis, “Hey Kari, there’s an ice dive on January 1.  You need to come up.”   She’d done it the year before, and I’d seen the video coverage from a local TV station there.  I cracked up.  But now that she was poking at me, could I actually do it?   I felt the pressure.  You see, I’ve conned Deeann and her husband, Greg, into several events—triathlons, half-marathons—so it was hard to pass up their invite. 

I responded with several single line e-mails:

“I have to wash my hair that day.”

“I will have a cold.” 

“I stubbed my toe and can’t swim.” 

Days later, I finally relented, “Okay I’m in.”  I’m a total sucker for a throw-down, even if it is one that involves serious cold.

Fast-forward to December 31.   I left Dallas that day where it was nearly 75 degrees, and as the flight into Minneapolis was on approach, I noticed the cold grey of the ice on the lakes below.  I felt a shiver.  What the heck was I thinking?  Is it too late to catch a flight back home and say I never made it?  Ah, too late.  They knew I was here.

I didn’t sleep much that night.  I kept waking up to hear the icy wind blowing through the trees outside their house.   We got dressed in bathing suits and shorts, put fleece on over it and slipped our way to the car for the long, torturous drive to the lake.   

The wind ripped through us as we got out of the car.  Flags were standing out fully in the wind.  Deeann and her siblings giggled with insane delight.  Her husband, Greg, and I gave each other a look.  He hadn’t done this event before, and I think that if I’d have bolted, he would’ve been quickly behind me. 

Everyone is labeled by how many dives they’ve done through the years. Those wearing shark jackets had ten or more dives.  Greg and I were Guppies.  Beginners.  Rookies. 

About thirty people at a time were herded from the holding area to a tent like cattle to the slaughter.  Wind blew up from under the edges, and my toes were going numb in my shoes.  The excitement continued.  I shivered, but am not sure whether it was fear, excitement, or just cold.  Finally we were sent out to the dock to await our turns for our short 32-foot swim to the other side.

You could hear screams much like you would coming from a roller coaster at an amusement park as these hearty souls took their spots and jumped into the icy water.  We were at the end of the line so the wind just kept blowing the cold through our robes.  My toes were like little popsicles.

Greg and Deeann went before us, but I don’t remember it.  I went with Deeann’s brother and sister, Dawn and Bill.  We stripped off our robes, handing to the person who would return them at the other side, then stood in only our shorts and a tank top.  Eep!   We took our spots at the jump line while Greg and Deeann were climbing out at the other end.  I hollered to the announcer that I was from Texas and the crowd went nuts.  They’re used to these events up there, so they were laughing at the crazy Southerner. 

I don’t remember between the time Bill grabbed my hand to go, and hitting the water.  It was a shock!  My breath was gone.  I had to still swim UNDER a rope to make the whole thing official.  My limbs wouldn’t move (all that “I’m gonna swim it “ bravado disappeared).  I grasped for the pole the firemen use to drag us to the ladder to exit.  I remember wanting to yell or something but nothing would come out. I couldn’t even cuss, but in my head I certainly was.  I could hear someone telling me over and over, “Don’t try to talk, just swim.”  I can’t even describe the cold that permeated the body. 

As I climbed out with the help of a fireman, I grabbed my robe and didn’t look back.  I don’t know that I’ve ever run faster to get to the warm building to thaw.  I’m not sure of my sanity at that moment, but looking back a few days later, it was fun.  It was a life’s checkmark.  Done.  Nearly 900 other jumpers started their new year out the same way, most of them returning divers.

This event at Lake Minnetonka raises money every year for a charity.  This year it was the Semper Fi fund which provides support for injured service members.  Seriously, you should try this once in your lifetime just for the experience and to bring in your new year in a unique way. 

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