Lake Michigan In October

I live in Wisconsin, so it’s pretty safe to say that I am used to cold temperatures… to a degree.  No amount of upper-midwest living will ever make you able to tolerate below-zero weather without some amount of whining.

I practically grew up on my dad’s sailboat.  In the summers, it is one of my favorite places to be.  It’s usually about 10 degrees cooler on the lake front than the rest of the city, plus you can almost always catch a breeze, and the lake never gets super warm so there’s always a way to cool down.  And believe me, I love swimming.

I’m very particular about swimming though.  If the water is 80 degrees, I’m miserable.  I don’t like the feeling of jumping into a big bowl of sweat, which is what warm water feels like to me.  I like refreshing dips instead.  If I’m not jumping into a pool, I prefer to be in extremely deep water.  This may sound contrary to most human being’s survival instincts, but I can’t stand touching the bottom of lakes.  I hate wet sand and seaweed especially.  Plus, the Milwaukee shoreline can get really rancid when the conditions are right.

Essentially, if we’re about 5 miles out and the water is about 200 feet deep, I’m a happy little fish.

Sometimes I wonder if *maybe* my body’s internal thermometer is broken.  I’m almost never dressed properly for the weather, for one.

One time, in October, my dad and I decided to take a few friends of mine on a sailboat ride before we had to take the boat out of the water.  The Boyfriend and I had just started dating, my two bestest friends in the world were available, one of Josh’s dude-friends was available, so what better way to spend a sunny afternoon?

What my dad didn’t count on was me wanting to jump in the lake one last time before the sailing season was over.  I even went so far as to wear a particularly horrible old sweat suit to hide my swimming gear so he wouldn’t know my intentions.  

We get out there, everyone’s having a grand ol’ time when suddenly…

Keep in mind that I was an adult, not a child, when this happened.  I was 23 or 24 at the time.

My dad probably figured that it would be so cold that I would immediately get out as soon as I got in.  And if I were a NORMAL person, he would’ve been right.  His knowledge of a human’s tolerance for coldness was in direct conflict with his knowledge of his daughter’s previous behavior.  But in my dad’s defense, had he said ‘No’ and stuck to it, he would’ve been subjected to hours of unadulterated whining. 

So my dad gave in.  He pulled down the main sail, stopped the motor, dropped anchor and told me to go for it. 

And go for it I did!  I didn’t even use the ladder to climb in.  I just took a flying leap off of the back of the boat in to ice cold, October-in-Wisconsin water.  And it was GLORIOUS!

After a few minutes of watching me gleefully doggy paddling around, two of our guests thought they’d hop on in too.  I must admit, I was having a blast so it really must have looked like fun.  Josh’s dude-friend decides to climb in using the ladder.  He stayed in for all of five minutes.

And one of my bestest friends who came along (and is from CANADA, which is supposed to be COLDER) decided to give it a go as well.

 

She got out right away.

Of course Josh wouldn’t come in.  One of his biggest fears is deep water.  After about a half an hour, they all started getting bored.

After an hour of unadulterated nagging, I finally decided that it was getting a little chilly and I had ruined everyone else’s fun enough for one day.  So I climbed back up onto the boat.  What I wasn’t expecting was to be hit with the most violent case of the shivers I’d ever experienced in my life within 30 seconds of getting out.

Within 5 minutes, I couldn’t even talk.  I had managed to dry off enough to get into my sweats.  Josh, being the fantabulous boyfriend he was, sat below in the cabin with me and held me close to him for warmth as I shook violently under a blanket.

Everyone else pretty much figured I got what I deserved… and they would be absolutely right.  I was warned about the temperature of the water.  I was nagged mercilessly to get out.  I knew it was October and I had lived in Wisconsin my entire life.  Really, I should’ve known better.  But my friends and family made one fatal flaw that day.

They assumed that I actually think rationally.

My lips turned blue and I got incredibly dizzy and disoriented (being in the cabin of a sailboat can do that as well) but I didn’t go to the hospital.  When we got back to the cars, I cranked up the heat so high that my dad and Josh had to open their windows.  A hot shower and about eight spare blankets later and I was feeling right as rain.

Sometimes I feel really sorry for my parents.