The annual Polar Plunge makes its way to Madison's Lake Monona Saturday. The cold-water dive raises money for Special Olympics and also lets participants face their fears and test their limits in a challenging-but eminently harmless-environment.
Overexposure to cold water can cause hypothermia, a condition in which a person's body temperature is dangerously low. A hypothermic individual may suffer frostbite or respiratory problems and eventually death from losing too much body heat.
But Desiree La Charite, a UW Hospital emergency room physician, said a jump like this is safe for participants in good health.
\You're only in the water for a few seconds. That's not enough time for hypothermia to set in [for the average healthy person between 18 and 60],"" she said.
La Charite advised divers to be properly prepared by eating and drinking a small amount about half an hour before taking the plunge. She also suggested divers wear clothes all the way up until the dive, shedding them only moments before doing the plunge, and warming up immediately afterward.
The biggest risk is actually dehydration, because the body loses fluid through shivering and breathing. Some divers drink alcohol beforehand, thinking it might keep them warmer, but La Charite cautioned against this.
""Drinking [alcohol] can make it worse,"" she warned. ""Alcohol dehydrates you and makes you less conscious of the fluid loss.""
If you've never done a cold-water plunge, here's a glimpse of the thrill you're missing.
The hole sits menacingly in front of you, about twice the length of a parking space, with freezing water lapping the edges. You walk along the ice to the far side of the hole, wearing cheap flip-flops so your feet don't stick to the ice. But the flip-flops offer little protection from the ankle-deep icy water in which you're standing.
As you get into position on the lip of the hole, something strange begins to happen-you stop noticing the cold. It's as if your brain is preparing itself for what you're about to do.
On the other side of the pool are medical personnel and rescue divers to help if anything goes wrong. But you're not thinking about them-you're staring transfixed into the ice bath, simultaneously thinking about what it will feel like and trying not to think about it at all.
Fortunately, an announcer is on hand to count down. Otherwise, you might stand there so long that you become paralyzed with fear. You feel a rush of adrenaline. The announcer counts down quickly: ""Three ... two ... one, jump!"" and, by gosh, you do. There's no time to even think about it.
The next few moments are a blur. Before, just your feet were cold. Now your entire body is enveloped in a chilling blanket of mind-numbing cold. The air goes out of you in a whoosh, your stifled heart pounding in your chest. Instinctively you swim. The water is only chest-deep, but your only thought is to reach the wooden staircase a few feet away, to get there right now.
You flap your arms madly, and though you've only been in the water for a few seconds, by the time you reach the staircase you can barely feel it. Your numb foot hits one rung, and you step on it, frantically pulling yourself out.
Once you've thrown yourself onto shore, your next thought is to run, run quickly, run to the hot tubs on shore. Never before has a 30-foot run seemed to take so long. As you run, you're vaguely aware that you're no longer wearing your flip-flops. They're somewhere at the bottom of Lake Monona, and you don't care at all.
You reach the hot tub and scramble in. Instantly, your discomfort melts away, and your whole body is delightfully warm. You sit and soak, and then it hits you: the thrilling exhilaration of what you just did. The adrenaline is still flowing, and you feel like you're king of the world. Heck, if you can survive a polar plunge under frigid conditions like these, there's nothing you can't do. You relax, inhale the steam contentedly, and smile from ear to ear.
Diver Tom Minahan of Sturgeon Bay, Wis., summarized why he will be an active Polar Plunge jumper for life: ""Our lives are not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the times that take our breath away.""
Dinesh Ramde, a graduate student in journalism, had a very lonely Valentine's Day. If you want to go out with a science nerd who likes to jump in ice-cold water, e-mail him at dramde@wisc.edu.
