Plunging

You know the world has gone absolutely bat-shit crazy when the New York Yankees allow their players to have facial hair after a 50-year club ban. You still won’t see any long locks on their swelled pin-striped heads since that rule remains intact. Also, current team owner Hal Steinbrenner (son of George) has put the kibosh on playing Frank Sinatra’s iconic song “New York, New York” over stadium loudspeakers after a Yankee loss. It will still play when they win, but they’ll rotate through a number of different tunes after a loss, such as “That’s Life” by Ol’ Blue Eyes and others, to soothe fans.

I’m hoping for a soulful rendition of “Something Stupid” in the Bronx the first time the Tigers play them this season.

As Rebecca likes to say, traditions are made to be broken.

I know all of this because our beloved Detroit Tigers blanked the Stankees, as they are called by most Detroit fans, 4-0, Sunday in a spring training game at George M. Steinbrenner Field in Tampa. Bravo, guys!

Since I haven’t posted anything political in a while, I also wanted to acknowledge #47’s bravery in tackling some dire issues so quickly in his new administration. Thank you for saving us from our long, national nightmare of using paper straws and suffering the scourge of pennies.

Moving on.

From what I hear, there may be no better time than now to jump in a lake. That said, let’s cut to the subject of today’s long-delayed post: “cold plungers.”

That’s right. As February’s onslaught of bitter temperatures and arctic blasts continues, cold plungers are suddenly hot. Not here in Florida, obviously, but definitely in places such as Michigan, as in above and below that big bridge, including the Upper Peninsula. (Note to self: Text great-nephew Michael at Michigan Technological University in Houghton to see if he’s considered plunging or, God forbid, already taken it. Horrors!)

I recently read an article in Bridge Michigan – the Wolverine state’s nonprofit, nonpartisan news source – about plunging. Apparently, from the Motor City to Copper City, winter swims and cold plunges are all the rage. There are even organized groups and events.

You may question the sanity of these people. I certainly did. And not just because I whine when the Gulf of Mexico (sorry, I refuse to call it anything else because I am an AP Style maven) registers an intolerably tepid 67 degrees in February.

Apparently, people plunge for health reasons – mental and physical. According to our nation’s medical researchers who are still employed, while benefits of this practice are limited at best, cold plunging is associated with surges in dopamine and endorphins. Who knew?

Honestly, I prefer my dopamine in the form of a warm latte, salted caramel dark chocolate or avocado guacamole on a lightly-salted Tostito chip with a margarita chaser.

Second, I’m afraid I can no longer surge much of anything, particularly endorphins, no matter how hard I try, except for that nagging pain in my lower back.

But cold plungers say they get a whole lot of something out of the practice of jumping into a freezing cold body of water in the middle of winter. And who’s going to dispute a plunger? Without hesitation, they shed their coats and boots and strip down to bathing suits. Then they run headfirst into the frigid water.

Good times. Sounds a lot like torture to me.

As my friend Emily emailed, in lower case without commas for emphasis: “i will never ever ever ever understand this.”

Actually, they say once you try it, you become addicted to plunging. Kind of like using illegal narcotics, only slightly scarier.

I’ve heard people – and, by that, I mean Finnish people – say it makes them feel alive. “It takes the edge off. Makes winter a lot more enjoyable. As a matter of fact, it’s something that we look forward to,” said no one I know ever.

And, apparently, it’s an effective treatment to reduce inflammation in your joints. (You first, dear Big Sis.) Honestly, I’d rather give up carbs.

Those stoic Finns with all of their endearing quirks that make them so special: leaving shoes off indoors, embracing silence over small talk, ending work days at 4 p.m., enjoying saunas in the nude and leaving notes to avoid confrontation.

There’s a good chance I may be Finnish.

The first traces of Finnish immigration to Michigan’s U.P. began in 1864 when a copper mining consortium recruited a dozen or more men who had been working as miners in northern Norway.And then, after one of the wives got tired of making her husband fancy sandwiches, she invented the pastie, a meat and vegetable pie that rhymes with nasty. Plus, it was considered America’s first fast food. (I may have made up that last part.)

Anyway, to confirm my skepticism about the allure of cold plunging, I asked our favorite Finnish friend, Janice, what she thought and whether she might give it a try this winter.

Janice: “What? Plunging? No way. Sounds like something stupid.”

(Main photo at top by Sharon McDonald)

(YouTube video: This catchy father-daughter duet by Frank and Nancy Sinatra was released in 1967 and became an international hit topping the Billboard pop chart. At the time, Frank was 51, and his daughter was 26. It was originally written and recorded in 1966 by Carson Parks with his wife, Gaile Foote, as Carson and Gaile.)