I’ve never considered myself an evangelist, but I find myself wanting to shout from my sixth floor condominium: Try a hot sauna and a cold plunge!
There’s this little truck that comes to a Chicago area beach three mornings/week. It is fully equipped with a sauna that seats up to six people. Folks can register online for a 30 minute slot.
Back in August, my sister, Kitty, and I experienced this sauna for the first time. I quickly learned not to sit on the upper bench; it felt like my face was melting. Afterwards, as we took a refreshing dip in Lake Michigan, an idea began to form. What if we were to repeat this experience monthly through the winter? We decided to find out. Now, I realize that this sounds like a trite goal in the midst of so much political turmoil. Isn’t there a better way to contribute to the world? Probably.
And yet, there is an odd sense of community in the sauna truck. I’ve sat in the sweltering heat with an older gentleman who explained the science of moving one’s body from hot to cold temperatures, a 40-something couple who talked about the stresses of homeschooling their two teenagers, and a woman from Sweden who grew up with the weekly sauna as a way of life. Nobody mentioned their political affiliation. It didn’t seem to matter as we sweated together and anticipated the shock of Lake Michigan. We were all in this together.
A few weeks ago, I awoke to a few flakes of snow and a temperature of 33 degrees. More snow was on its way! Not an ideal day for plunging into Lake Michigan! Since I had already signed up, I was committed to giving it a try.
The sauna went pretty well. I was getting used to the intense heat. It was the cold plunge that I was dreading. The others seemed to have no qualms about moving into the 47 degree water. Surely, I could do it, too.
Kitty and I left the sauna, trudged through the snowy sand, and waded into the frigid water. My legs stung! (Pro tip: I wore a pair of water booties which protected my feet from the frozen rocks.) The water was shallow; I thought we’d never make it out far enough to go under. Finally, Kitty asked if she could take my hand before plunging, just in case she found it difficult to breathe. 1-2-3 and she was under! And back up! And starting to move towards shore!
Wait – I hadn’t gone under yet! I stood there pondering whether I really wanted to do this. I was pretty sure that I’d eventually get around to it. Kitty, with her icy hair, grabbed my hand and yelled, “You have to do it now!” I immediately responded by dunking all the way under. It was COLD! Then, we both ran back to the shore for a few congratulatory photos before putting some layers of clothing on.
As I returned to my car, the snow had intensified. It took a long time to clear my windows; it would be a longer drive home. Typically, I would be very impatient with a drive like this. Instead, I slowly maneuvered down the slick roads and stared in wonder at the big snowflakes. It was so beautiful, and I felt so present and so energized. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt better.
Now, I realize that a hot sauna and a cold plunge aren’t going to heal our broken world. But is it possible that they might contribute in some small way? In building community. In cultivating presence. In energizing folks to take the next best step. (It sure beats scrolling through depressing news!)
We are all in this together, so I’ll shout it once more: Try a hot sauna and a cold plunge! And let me know what happens.
With joy,
Bridget
Copyright (c) 2024, Bridget Purdome, ThePearlDivers.com. All rights reserved.
We’re all in this Together
