Coupeville Sports

Wet suits are for fancy lads.

It’s like a jacuzzi, isn’t it?

Mark it down. April 9, 2013 at 3:11 PM, I lost my freakin’ mind … again.

After a five-month absence from her gentle caress, I got all up in Penn Cove’s very cold business today, marking the start of my third year of meeting her face-to-face wearing just a swimsuit and dive gloves.

167 days in 2011. 133 days in 2012. Most of those days twice a day.

It was time to get back on the horse. Time to get back in shape. Time to slide down the Hill O’ Death in front of my house and plunge into the probably-warm-cause-it’s-semi-sorta-springish water and … SWEET SON OF A GOAT-LICKIN’ WHORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep, just as cold as I remember.

The good thing is, Penn Cove doesn’t really change all that much. A degree here or there, it’ll be the same in August as it is now, and the same in October as it is in August.

It’s the stuff outside the Cove — the sun, or lack of it, and, sometimes, the snow and/or frost I have left foot steps through — that make the day different.

Once you’re in the water, it’s all mind over (cold) matter, as you convince your body it really wants to do this. I go straight in, dunk myself, and stay up to above my shoulders and run the shoreline, under water.

Wet suits are for fancy lads. The diving gloves are a concession to my fingers, and the best purchase I have made.

Can I keep it going? Will I go back down the hill tomorrow? Can I top 2011? Will I get back in shape?

We shall see. One frickin’ cold step at a time.