The One Where I Took an Ice Bath

So I was rereading some of my old columns from college, and I stumbled upon this glorious piece of non fiction. What in the world was I thinking. . .

"What you think about in an ice bath for 12 minutes?

T minus 30 seconds: Before you get into the ice bath you think, “Wow a bikini, scarf and hat is really an underrated look. Someone should bring it into style.”

Minute 1: When your feet first hit an ice bath (which is really your bathtub with water and ice from four of your neighbor’s freezers) you think . . . In fact, you can’t really hear yourself think at all, because you are too busy screaming “Dear God!” and “Whose idea was this?!” and of course “Ah!” at a high pitched range that caused dogs to start scratching on your apartment door. Just kidding RAs.

Minute 2: Still not much thinking going on. Hate myself. Hate this idea. Hate whoever invented ice. Feel like crying. Remember I don’t cry and try a cute little whimper instead . . . leads to more shrieking.

Minute 3: At minute three you start thinking, why are there five people in my bathroom laughing at me and why is my friend Sean singing me a lullaby from the side of the bathtub? (Allow me to reiterate here that I am wearing a swimsuit). And why aren’t any of the people stopping him from throwing ice cubes at me? Scream some more.

Minute 4: Apparently you’re supposed to go numb around minute two. At minute four I am still cold, and still screaming.

Minute 5: Entire lower body has gone number. It’s not bad actually, this ice bath. I move a little. Bad idea. My roommate tries to leave the bathroom. I stop her with a line from the “Blair Witch,” “I’m so scared.”

Minute 6: Around the half-way-point I begin to wonder if this is colder than the water that killed Leo in the Titanic. I decide it must be. I decide him and Kate Winslet are weak, and I think I may audition for the sequel.

Minute 7: Watch video footage of me getting into the ice bath, which my roommate so kindly captured. Not my best look. Think about how refreshing it would be to have a straw with me in the ice bath. I’m getting kind of thirsty.

Minute 8. I remember what I am trying to accomplish in the ice bath. I have been very sore from exercising and my friend Nick suggested this therapy, him being a runner and all. I curse his name then I remember he bet me a dollar. Think about all the things I could buy with a dollar.

Minute 9: A candy bar. A bottle of water. Two Stamps, with change to spare. I could bet someone to take an ice bath. A ride on a carousel. Four gumballs (if he gives the dollar to me in quarters). 1/5 of a five dollar footlong. A Red box film. A McDouble, though I’m more of a fan of the Double Cheeseburger, which is extra these days, fascists.

Minute 10: E6 Famous Amos cookies from the vending machine. Lottery ticket. A taco. 10 copies or if my printing quota was out, 10 prints.

Minute 11: Notice my legs are a bit red. Well, a bit more than a bit. I poke them and they float to the surface. This amuses me for approximately the rest of the minute.

Minute 12: I wonder what all the fuss what about. This wasn’t so bad, this sitting in ice thing. I emerge from icy confines of hell. Legs feel sort of asleep and look sunburned. They are amazingly fun to poke and to jump on.

Next Day: Wake up with the swine flu.

Coincidence? You decide.

And still no dollar."

Editors note: please know that the dollar was in fact paid after the publishing of this post. It still hangs on the bulletin board in my kitchen along with a note from the Bet-or. Should you ever break into my home please try not to steal the dollar - even if it is the only one you find.