Polar Bbbbbbrrrrrrrr!

A few days ago, I mused aloud, “Do you think any one will do the Polar Bear Plunge with me this year?” and Dwayne said,  “I will.” 

Or something like that. 

Which is how we went from this….

 

 

to this:

 

Last year, it was mid-50s and sunny.  This year, we had the same sun, but there were frozen puddles still solid back out our house.   I also had a more specific goal this year—to swim to the nearest buoy.  And, hopefully, back again. 

 

We are the two heads closest to the buoy.  (And I saw at least a handful of women in bikinis.  Someone willing to risk hypothermia for no particular benefit probably isn’t too concerned about wearing a skimpy suit while doing it.) 

 

Made it!  

 

 

“Babe, hold my hand—I can’t feel my toes!” Actually, I couldn’t feel most of my body.

 

Kyla and Piper wore their suits so they could do a cub dive after we swam.  They both made it to their ankles before these were snapped:

 

Evelyn got to be an honorary family member for a little while, so she got a Polar Bear photo, too.

 

Whether you consider me brave, adventurous, idiotic, or worse, you have to admit—I rock that braid!

 

We have a bit of dilemma for next year.  If I do it for a third time, it gains momentum and I will have to keep doing it.  This wouldn’t be so bad if we spend New Years in Mexico.  Maybe we’ll work on that.