There is a cadre of reasons why we Jump into one of the coldest lakes in the Black Hills each May Day
This year, May 1st came after the conclusion of April (like it does every year). But this year’s April was not only the coldest April we’ve ever had in the Hills, but more snow fell in the month of April than has ever fallen in any month the Black Hills in recorded history (Now, I’ll encourage you to take a moment and ponder that a little bit if you need to… let it sink in). On top of all that it was also about 38 degrees at Pactola last night. I think you’re beginning to grasp what I’m getting at, it was COLD. Really, really cold. So cold in fact that no person in their right mind should wake up in the morning and say “I’m going to jump in Pactola today. ” But I did, and so did a handful of others, each with their own reason for doing it. The true essence of it all is it is our own goofy ceremonial closing of winter and a welcoming of the spring time.
Back when I was in High School, a couple of friends of mine and I jumped a few consecutive May 1sts in a row, mostly just because we were stir crazy from winter and hungry for lake time. The tradition faded and it wasn’t until years later when I was trying to think of something to celebrate my first year of sobriety that I decided to bring it back.
The jump, though, is about far more than sobriety, and my sobriety is about so much more than not getting wasted. It all marks a moment in time where I had had enough. I was done sucking at life. I was done being controlled by anything other than myself. Each year, I jump to remind myself that each choice we make is ours to make, and we walk our paths because we get to choose which fork in the road we take. That’s my reason for the jump, if you ask anyone else, they will probably tell you something totally different.
What always amazes me though, is that I hatched this hair-brained idea. I say, “I am going to jump in a cold-ass lake, and if anyone wants to come too, they can.” Each year I drive up there knowing that people are sane and by all accounts and purposes, I should be jumping alone. Each year, though, I am eternally delighted when I arrive and car after car pulls up next to me and I am amazed as my incredible friends and family pile out (cursing me the whole time) – they shiver as they change into their suits and wrap themselves in blankets an turn blue as we wait until everyone is ready. Then, as a group, we climb out on the dock, and squawk, clamber and second guess ourselves until the inevitable countdown begins.:
Photo by Kabe Termes
10, 9, 8…. Someone screams…
7, 6, 5… “oh god, oh god, oh god”…
4, 3, 2… “THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!!!”
1!
….. And then the strangest thing happens, against all of our better judgment, and without a moment of hesitation, we all jump. Everyone plunges into the freezing water and then simply switches into survival mode for the next 6 seconds. The only thought that runs through our head is “GET OUT OF THE WATER!!!” We collect ourselves on the shoreline; check yourself over to make sure you didn’t forget an appendage in the cold water. You shiver, you shake and you start to dry off and then you know, it’s done. You did it. It’s over. We all stand there and come back to our senses and we laugh and we hug.
… it’s an incredible thing.
This was our 3rd year of jumping and each year has been entirely different. The first year it snowed on us while we jumped and last year we jumped under a full double rainbow. This year, it was cold. The jump for me is like hitting the reset button each year; it punctuates our accomplishments and wipes the slate clean for the next things to come. I don’t know why Dylan does it, or why Todd jumps every year. I don’t know what compels Amy or Kim or the little girls to jump. I know why I jump and I know that having all these incredible people there by my side assures me that we are capable of accomplishing unbelievable things… even if they are kind of absurd sometimes.