It’s a Saturday morning. You wake up in last night’s clothes, with a splitting headache and a memory of going a little too feral in The Rule the night before. But you look outside, and the sun is shining. If you’re me, that’s all you need to force yourself to put on a bathing suit, bundle up, and trudge down the Scores to Castle Sands. Shivering against the winter winds, you slowly peel off your layers and inspect your surroundings. After a minute or so of waiting, there can be no more procrastination: It’s time to cold plunge.
The health benefits, both mental and physical, of living by the sea are well-documented and plentiful, but it’s one thing to live near the ocean and quite another to consistently brave the North Sea in February. Having become a rather seasoned sea dipper, I find that my swims have a way of changing my day and making me feel more peaceful, present, and grateful.Â
Different types of swims leave different effects on my mood: When I’m sprinting into the water on West Sands at sunset, surrounded by ten other girls, giddily shrieking as we splash each other, I feel euphoric, invigorated, and incredibly alive. When it’s 7 am on a Sunday, and I’ve ventured down to the tidal pool by myself, I become deeply contemplative and existential – a different way of feeling alive.Â
Of course, the physical act of entering the water and the first minutes succeeding it aren’t pleasant. Everything in your body screams at you not to enter 6° water (43° Fahrenheit, for the other Americans), and plenty of times the first step has felt so punitive that I’ve nearly bailed. The sensation is akin to being stabbed by thousands of tiny daggers. Have I sold you yet?
To get through those moments, I have little advice other than “you just have to do it.” I try to remind myself of three things: the effort I’ve already put in to be there, how good it’ll make me feel, and, above all, how I want to be the kind of person who shows up for herself and does the hard thing.Â
I don’t typically consider myself a particularly tough or strong-willed person, but there’s something about this consistent commitment to mind over matter that has made me more secure in myself and my own capabilities. In high school, my cross-country coach frequently advised his runners to “get comfortable being uncomfortable”, and I can think of no better example. (After all, I find that the discomfort fades quickly as you start to become numb.)Â
What’s more is that these dips offer an opportunity that can be hard to come by amidst the chaos of university life. It may be cliché, but I’m a firm believer that the chance to slow down and immerse ourselves in the physical environment around us (notably without our phones) is one we should welcome whenever possible. If I’m alone, I’m free to introspect and talk to myself about whatever’s taking up space in my head – an essay I have to write, my crush of the month, and sometimes just how cold I am. If I’m with my friends, we’re probably having a handstand competition or aimlessly doing flips. Focusing on this complete captivation with my surroundings and being unabashed at my joy in them feels almost childlike, in a very freeing way.
I swim nearly every week for at least 5 to 10 minutes per session. (In all honesty, the length of each trip is decided by when my head starts to hurt from the cold.) Still, this is another reason I value my sea dips: they’ve instilled in me the value of finding and maintaining a practice that makes me feel alive. If cold plunges aren’t that practice for you, that’s totally fine. But I can’t underestimate how important it’s been to find an escape I’m disciplined about, that reliably makes me feel better, and gives me perspective when I need it.
I often find that swims feel the best when I’m feeling my worst. Whether it’s a hangover, stress, or if I’m just in a funk, sea dips leave me feeling refreshed, overwhelmingly calm, and much clearer; any mental fog I had before has dissipated. Most importantly, I’ve never left a swim regretting it.
It may seem counterintuitive that there is sometimes nothing more soothing than putting your body in mild discomfort for a little bit. However, my sea dips have taught me to reflect, to take constant joy in my surroundings, and to be present. Now it’s your turn to get comfortable with the uncomfortable and dive in.