What the hell was I thinking? Jumping into Lake Ontario in February is quite possibly one of the craziest things I've ever done. But that means there are quite a few other crazies in Rochester — 1,300 to be exact.
That's the number of people who took to the 34-degree water on Sunday, Feb. 8, during the 9th Annual Polar Bear Plunge to benefit the Special Olympics. The event raised about $200,000.
When the story idea came up, I was game but definitely not psyched about splashing around in the icy lake in the middle of winter. During the weeks leading up to the plunge, each person I told had a different tip they'd heard about what to wear — the less clothing, the better; sneakers are a must. And it all makes sense. Freezing cold water and wet clothes don't exactly make for a pleasant experience, and losing a toe to frostbite doesn't sound like much fun either.
The morning of the plunge, I decided my best bet would be to wear a T-shirt and running shorts. I did decide to wear a bikini top underneath, but only so I wouldn't have to wear a wet bra the rest of the afternoon. Gross.
When I got to Charlotte Beach, I was stunned. Usually, it's a ghost town during the winter months, but the day of the plunge, there were so many people there you would've thought it was mid-July. Except for the February air.
Last year, it was a frigid 10 degrees, but the plungers lucked out this year. It was a relatively mild 35 degrees, and the water was 34 degrees. But to me, it really makes no difference — cold is cold. I won't even get into a pool in the summer unless the water is at least 80 degrees.
When I got up to the registration tent, it already was filled with groups of plungers of all ages, dressed in zany costumes, matching T-shirts and funny hats. There were girls in bikinis and guys in swim trunks, and all were eager to take the plunge. I was one of the few people going at it alone.
The bathhouse was the designated changing room. It was complete chaos; people were changing in the middle of the room and clothes were strewn everywhere. Thankfully, my boyfriend was there to be the designated clothes hanger.
Spectators lined up against the gates, while plungers waited in the tent. I decided to befriend a random guy dressed as Elvis and his friend in Hawaiian-print trunks. They said they decided to take the plunge because they just wanted to do something crazy. I'm sure other people did it just to put it as their Facebook status.
When they announced it was time to plunge, half the people were already running toward the shoreline. I held back for fear I would be pushed in with the mob.
Elvis and I walked down to the beach, but I picked up speed when I saw the water. It was the consistency of half-frozen ice cubes and street slush. I was expecting the water to feel like needles on my skin, but when my feet hit the water, I was somewhat relieved. That's not to say it was warm enough to wade in (although some people did), but it was tolerable for the 30 seconds I was submerged.
I was planning to go in up to my waist, but when I turned around and saw a hoard of overexcited plungers running and splashing toward me, I knew I had to get the hell out of that water. Along the way I let out a few screams, not because of the temperature of the water, but because I thought for sure I would trip on the pieces of floating ice or get trampled.
Thankfully, I got out in one piece. Volunteers were there handing out towels and checking everyone for frostbite. Just kidding. Although my socks were filled with ice and my legs were freezing, I couldn't have been more excited that I did it. And I might just be back next year — except with a Kentucky Derby hat and a group of crazy friends.
