I am a large flippered marine mammal

 


Spring is in the air here, and I finally plucked up the courage to go ice swimming. A friend of ours is an enthusiast and has been trying to get us to go for a while. So with A. warm inside at the grandparents, we all went of to Lake Shartash on the edge of the city for a dip.That is to say, I was planning to freeze myself, M. was happy to stand with the towel (and the necessary bottle of strong booze for afterwards).

We got there and there was a man with a chainsaw cutting through the ice by some iron steps leading down into a swimming-pool deep dark (really dark) square of water. When we asked if we could have a swim, he said the girls could go ahead, but the men could only swim if they helped to clear the ice first. (Maybe he meant that he didn't care if the girls swam amongst the icebergs or not)....So, I picked up a spade and started fishing out massive pieces of ice and throwing them over the side. Sounds easy, but I was wrapped up like the Michelin man and the floor had been well soaked with water from cutting the ice and was now a bit slippery. I had visions of sliding over into the water with all of my gear on - knowing my generally clumsy approach to life, this isn't outside the boundaries of the impossible.

Having cleaned the pool, you basically get undressed as quick as you can, put on some cheap flip flops, run up the stairs, try not to think too much about it, climb down the stairs (I was recommended to do this quickly rather than slowly) until the shoulders are submerged and then flap about a bit looking tough before realising that you can't actually breath, let alone even consider an attempt at a new personal best ice-swimming lap record, climb up the steps (climbing back out feels like in slow motion, but actually that's more to do with not being able to feel your toes and fearing slipping and falling back in), get the flip flops back on and the towel around you, in whatever order of personal preference (I went flip flops first if you're interested), then start to get dressed.

The result: it's cold. Then, it gets warm....then you realised you are a fool and your socks and shoes are wet. SO, back on with dry clothes (hooray), pull on wet socks (boo), grab your stuff and walk briskly back to the car. As for drink - all we had int he house before we left was a rather  nice bottle of cognac (in its own presentation box no less) and some rotten, foul German 60% plum crap. Cognac was my beverage of choice, and so out with the shot glass, fill it up and down the hatch. NO EFFECT. And there was a car with 3 under 2.5 year olds with us, so I felt it would be positively wrong to drink another one.

Before me went a brave middle aged lady, and made it look easy. Then our friend, the enthusiast, who made it look unpleasant, but amusing. Then me. It was fun. It was really good fun. By the afternoon, I was already thinking, I'm so extreme, I could go and do this again. Piece of cake. Jack Osborne, the self-proclaimed Adrenaline Junkie....sees this clip of me and can only think of what he still has to do in life. In the clip, it looks like I am only in the water for a few seconds. It felt like I was in there for a bit longer than the video shows.