The Christmas Olympics

Polar Plunge

I awoke Saturday morning with a new sense of invigoration coursing through my veins. The games were finally turning in my favor and today we would swim, something I was decidedly good at; not even my sore back or lack of texts from Sarah could dampen my spirits.

I plucked the tags off the new bathing suit I bought for today's competition; that hadn't bene an article of clothing I thought to grab in my haste to rush out the door of my apartment in Baltimore, so I'd run to the sporting goods store and grabbed the first one that fit.

"I'm gonna freeze my tits off," I muttered when I pulled on my bathing suit. I layered as much as possible and pulled a beanie snug over my head. The citizens of Maple Springs had to be absolutely insane to jump into the freezing lake in the middle of December.

"You ready?" I asked my brother, peeking into his room.

"Physically? Yes. Mentally, no. My balls jump right back into my body the moment I hit the water."

"You might want to get that checked out. That's anatomically impossible."

"Thanks, Doctor Whitley," Miles said with an eyeroll.

"Anytime, Doctor Whitley."

Miles and I arrived at the small lake nestled against Maple Springs. There were two competitions scheduled today: a snowman building contest—which I'd empathically rolled my eyes over, to which Miles responded that not all of the events could be athletic, especially if I was going to throw snowballs and elbows at people, to which I'd replied that I had apologized, though Miles didn't think it was sincere, and I honestly didn't blame him—and the polar plunge: a dip into the freezing temperatures of the lake.

For the snowman building competition, which I still maintained as the lamest of all the games, we were told to bring anything we wanted to decorate our snowman with from home, but we had to incorporate a carrot nose and two eyes made out of coal that would be provided.

"So we're building Frosty?" I asked, dropping my bag next to Miles' while we waited for the judges to signal the start of the competition.

"Duh."

"I still think this is stupid. Why are we building snowmen? It's called the Christmas Olympics. Not the Christmas arts and crafts. This isn't the Great British Bake-Off."

"You need to take it down like ten notches," my brother teased. "Sorry you won't be able to show off your athletic prowess all day. Save it for the swim."

I shook my head and looked around at the other competitors, pulling their items from their bags and laying them around. People had color scarves and silly hats. I glanced in my bag: I brought my stethoscope and doctor's coat with me so at least someone would be getting good use out of them.

I noticed Arden among those in the crowd; she hadn't noticed me and was chatting with a few other people, Josh among them. I found it rather surprising that Arden hadn't made it a point to come over and stick me with some barb before the competition, as had been her ritual since the Turkey Trot. I rolled my eyes. Dramatic. It was just a snowball. And I'd said sorry. What more did she want from me?

The judge called our attention with a loudspeaker, delivered the instructions. "You have thirty minutes to create a snowman. You need to use the carrot and coal we've provided, but everything else is up to you. Once everyone's finished, we'll have whoever's around to cast a vote." The judge looked around. When we all seemed ready, he started the time.

I quickly bent down and began rolling my three different sizes of snow to construct Frosty's body. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd built a snowman; Sarah wasn't the 'go out and play in the snow type', so I hadn't built a snowman, sledded, or thrown a snowball since I'd met her. Well, that wasn't true—I'd thrown one snowball at her playfully and she didn't talk to me for a week. Maybe that's why it felt so good to throw multiple snowballs at Arden.