Yesterday started with a kick.
No dares, no taunts, no drama, just a quick dip in an icy Montana river on a January morning.
Never mind that we haven't been in since early September, when we deemed the river and the nights too chilly to continue our summer tradition of doing laps on the stretch of the Whitefish River that runs outside our back door.
When Hot Husband casually dropped this idea into a conversation this week, I was surprised to find zero resistance within me. The river is so close to a warm shower and hot coffee, so why not?
Moments before the jump, Hot Husband and I passed each other short, furtive questions about footwear (FiveFingers), strong current (there was none), and where to put the towels.
Then it was time.
Now, I'm a girl who loves hot tea, cozy sweaters and curling up next to the fire. Standing in the snow in a bikini is not really on my list of great things to do any day, any time.
But I did it. We slid down the snow to the water's edge and waded in. The breath I took after dunking in up to my forehead was sharp and desperate, but full of life. I barely remember sprinting up and out for the steamy shower.
But I fully felt the power of my lungs, the tingling of my nearly-numb legs, and the shout that released itself.
Would I do it again? Totally. Except . . .
: I'd take a smaller shot of vodka before the jump. Or have something in my stomach.
: I'd go a second time. Seriously.
: It would be awesome to have a wood-fired hot tub for warming up. A girl can dream!
|The river, pre-dip|
|Preparing for launch|
|Wading in . . .|
|. . . wading out.|
|Heading for a warm shower!|
(We went cross-country skiing, too.)
River photos courtesy of 8-year-old Monkey Boy