Day 3 - Polar Bear Dip

I don't normally think of the gym as a place where I might find myself doubled over in laughter, but yesterday all that changed.  I had met a friend of mine, Debsie, and her two kids at the gym for a workout and swim.  The "gym" is actually a swim and tennis club that includes a small, albeit functional, workout room with various equipment and cardio machines.  The club recently stopped heating its big pool and is now heating only the covered pool, which is outside but protected from the elements by a pergola.  The pool is heated to 85 degrees plus and is quite comfortable, too much so in my opinion, as the warm water lulls me into swimming only slow motion laps.  But I digress.

So with our cardio workout and a few laps in the heated pool complete, the kids decide to go check out the jacuzzi, which happens to be next to the big unheated pool.  We ask them to dip their feet in the big pool to see how cold it is, and then we have the great idea that a polar bear dip might be fun.  Yes, fun.  The kids check it out and don't seem all that diswayed by the chilly water, so we get out of the warm pool, gather our belongings, and walk in the rain over to the big pool in our swimsuits.  It's a cold walk as the air seeps into our wet suits.  Debsie's teeth are chattering.

We agree to jump in all at the same time, but somehow that doesn't happen.  While I am moving to jump in at a location near the ladder, anticipating a quick exit, one of the kids jumps in.  He seems undaunted by the cold, swims into the shallows, exits, and then heads to the jacuzzi. 

Still not quite ready to take the plunge, the girl and I stand on the edge while Debsie makes a go for it.  We watch her, wondering if maybe it's just not that cold.  But when she bursts through the surface of the water, arms flaying, water splashing every which way in her frantic attempt to escape, we know with absolute certainty that the water is indeed cold.  We continue to watch as she first bobs left, thinking that she'll follow her son's path of exit, quickly changes her mind and instead tries to hoist herself up and over the edge of the pool, a feat she has not been able to accomplish for probably a decade but was optimistic that the surge of adrenaline induced by the frigid temps would be enough to spur her to success.  She was wrong. 

Now she's stuck in the water, still flaying her arms, still screaming, and her face is beet red.  Ear-to-ear and chin-to-hair line beet red.  I am laughing hard, doubled over, vaguely aware that I am in a swimsuit and hoping to God that no one else but us is around to see my bent over ass but unable to stop both the laughter and the bending.  Debsie's laughing too.  Splashing and red faced and laughing as she makes her way to the ladder.  Finally she emerges and is off to the jacuzzi. 

Now it's just the two of us left.  Debsie's nine year old daughter and me. 

We jump in and come up screaming.  As I am fighting my way through the ice cold water to the ladder, it occurs to me to hold back and let the little one exit first.  But I am to cold to stop.  I reach the ladder a split second before her and hesitate for just a moment, long enough for her to rest a foot on the bottom step.  But she doesn't, and not one to waste such an opportunity, I glom on, pull myself out, then quickly turn around and offer her a hand, but she opts for the ladder rails instead, already three quarters of the way out of the pool. 

We sit in the jacuzzi and laugh about Debsie's red face and frantic bug-like splashing.  I'm hoping all that laughing (and splashing) resulted in an additional calorie burn.

What sort of exercise is this?