Some Like It Cold Polar Plunge Purists Grumble About ‘Warm’ Water But Dive In Anyway
The first day of 1998 dawned with slate-gray skies, 36-degree temperatures and the desire of dozens to start the New Year with a splash.
The mild weather drew hundreds of participants to the Polar Bear Plunge and the Hangover Handicap Run, but a hard-core few didn’t appreciate the obliging beginning to the New Year.
“We are disappointed there isn’t snow or adverse weather,” said Mike Armstrong of Spokane, a veteran of more than half a dozen dives into Lake Coeur d’Alene on New Year’s Day. “This is kind of like you’re cheating.”
Armstrong was sitting in T.W. Fisher’s late Thursday morning having a beer with his brother-in-law and two co-workers. The four had participated in the morning’s 5-mile fun run and were getting prepared for the Plunge.
“It’s a great way to start the New Year,” he said. “Instead of just tiptoeing into the New Year, you dive into it head-first.”
Trista Mangini looked doubtful as she sucked on a Long Island ice tea.
“I’ve heard that your heart can stop beating when you hit the cold water, so that makes me kind of nervous,” she said.
Mangini, 21, was one of the few runners in the Hangover Handicap who had anything akin to an actual hangover. She’d been up ringing in the New Year by dancing at The Ram pub in Spokane.
“I got 1-1/2 hours of sleep last night, but I think I was more tired than hung over,” she said.
Most of the runners appeared more health-conscious. Several, like Lakeland High senior Reid Houck, who stayed up all hours of the night playing Nintendo, suffered nothing more than sleep deprivation.
“I’m sure 99 percent of those here today wouldn’t be here if they’d been drinking last night,” said race official Krystie Robbins.
Among the minority was third-place finisher Mitch Knight, 21, who spent New Year’s Eve at The Cotton Club.
“In the fourth mile, I could feel all the dancing and the beers,” he admitted. He denied having an actual hangover, “but I had about a pack’s-worth of second-hand smoke,” he said.
The run drew 508 registered runners and walkers and dozens of non-registered runners. About half came from the Spokane area, estimated race director Ken Korczyk. Those who registered got a green long-sleeved T-shirt with a jogging polar bear design.
The design paid respect to the dozens of runners, like Armstrong and his friends, who later made for Sanders Beach and the annual Polar Bear Plunge.
As noon drew near, the west end of the beach was bustling with hundreds of people, some carrying towels and others lugging video cameras.
“I can’t believe there’s so many crazy people in one area,” said a woman arriving on the scene.
Wrapped in a fuzzy, ankle-length blue robe, Penny Jones of Rathdrum clutched a cup of coffee while her 8-year-old daughter Casey had stripped to a T-shirt, ready to go.
“The sand’s a little, tiny bit cold,” Casey said, dancing on top of a towel. But she wasn’t ready to back out. “I just wanted to try something new.”
Meanwhile, the old guard kept time at the waterline. Wearing party hats and plastic leis, the Pinehill Polar Bear Club, of Coeur d’Alene’s Pinehill neighborhood, was the closest thing to an event sponsor. The club’s motto is, “Your head’s got to get wet or it doesn’t count.”
“What’s the unofficial, official time, Mr. Timekeeper, Sir!” the group shouted in unison.
“One minute,” shouted the timekeeper, holding up an official, unofficial Mickey Mouse clock.
Then came the 10-second countdown, in which everyone joined, as they hurriedly stripped off the last of their warm clothes.
Then, in a chorus of frenzied screams, the cold-weather bathers splashed or dove into the frigid waters. One dip, and most were back on the beach.
“Mom! My towel,” screamed a desperate girl.
“What a rush, what a rush,” shouted a red-faced man.
Almost as soon as it began, the plunge was over. Towel-heads and drippy drawers left in a clog of traffic, as people hurried home for hot showers or hot tubs, ready to face a new year.
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