Sometimes I hold my breath until it hurts. And then everything in my vision is shaking. But the shake isn’t fear, per se.

There are moments of anticipation that run through your veins like ice-cold rain—moments when you take the plunge, not because it’s comfortable, but because you want the result badly enough to face the shock.

The shock burns cold, tightening my body as I submerged myself for 90 seconds. Meditate, relax, and move forward. And start the life cycle all over again.

I’ve now gone from hot water (104 degrees, to be exact) to a violent burst of refreshing cold.

The truth is, nerves are just water, and we’re all vessels. How we carry the water, how we let it flow between our fingers, determines whether it moves us forward.

So, here’s to the plunge and the shock that comes with it.

Side note: cold plunges are about 48 degrees. And I’d do it again.