It snowed yesterday; by the time we were driving back from dropping off Eliza in the evening, it was a magical winter wonderland.

When I woke up this morning, snow still coated all the surfaces, glittering and white. A bitter wind made even letting Lulu out for a pee feel like an ordeal.

Swim?

Are you kidding me?

But swim I must and so after a perusal of the hourly weather forecast led me to believe things were only going to get worse, I wrangled Kevin, and off we went. By then I wasn’t going to make the Cold Water Addicts’ regular meet up and I was happy to avoid the drive anyway. Instead, we went to Willow’s beach, which is only a few blocks from our rental. 

Snow speckled the beach and clung to the bushes and trees. Wind raced along the sand and water, making the sea roil dramatically. The air temperature was 33 degrees F, but with the wind chill, it felt in the 20s. Truly I’ve never felt quite so ridiculous as I did stripping off my outer layers and venturing into the water in those conditions.

Once in, things only got colder. I waded out already shivering—took a look at my thermometer and was not shocked to read 46 degrees. I think it’s officially my coldest swim, but I’ll have to go back and check.*

My hands ached if I put them in the water, but I soon realized that the wind made them even colder outside. Everything was colder out of the water. At that realization, I slipped all the way in and started swimming. Once I was in and moving, it didn’t take long before I felt great. It was as if that cold, roiling sea was imbuing its energy directly into my body. 

Afterward, Kevin wrapped me in a towel and we ran for the car. 

*I checked and it wasn’t my coldest swim. 46 is 7.77 Celsius and in January it was 7 when I swam here. Though today was undoubtedly the coldest air temperature.