I’ve been served a ton of social media content lately about people cold plunging because it “teaches them that they can do hard things.” I feel A) a little superior because I feel like I was early to the cold-plunge party, and B) a little annoyed because I’m a big believer in the fact that we could also just do things because they make us feel good. I don’t necessarily cold plunge for whatever purported health benefits. I enjoy a cold plunge because the first time I dabbled in a little contrast therapy, the feeling I got afterward—an insanely relaxed calm—was the exact feeling I got back in 2012 when a very generous (arguably too generous, sometimes I wonder if the man still has a liscense) urgent care doctor prescribed me a shit-ton (an official scientific measurement) of Percocet for fracturing my toe via dropped microwave, a literal high I’d been chasing in the metaphorical sense for years.
Anyway, while I’m big on being able to do things without a purpose other than enjoyment, I’m also not immune to the effects of #hustleculture.
I’ve written earlier about the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy 2026 Winter Hiking Challenge, which asks participants to log 60 miles of winter hiking by the end of February this year. I’m a bit behind on my goal (I’m really trying to get 30 miles done by Jan 30), so initially planned to do a sunrise hike to Rich Mountain Fire Tower this morning, which would’ve netted an additional 5.3 miles, but I both half slept in AND it was 19°at my apartment this morning, and thus WAY too cold for anything that lengthy, so I settled on doing Bearwallow Mountain instead, a hike I’ve done a bunch, but a sunrise view I’ve never seen.
Anyway, I got to the parking area around 6:00, which meant I’d get to the top at approximately 6:30, JUST allowing me to see the 6:38 sunrise. I also brought a little notebook, as I have an article coming out tomorrow, and wanted to brainstorm some social media promotional content for it, so planned on sitting on top and doing said brainstorming, in my head, telling myself that I’d do that for fifteen minutes, because that would allow me to get home for 9:00 on the dot, which would allow me to accomplish all the other tasks I’d allotted for myself that morning. About halfway up the short, mile-long hike, I started beating myself up for sleeping in, missing the beautiful colors of daybreak, and then thinking that maybe I’d only allot myself ten minutes at the top to do some brainstorming so that I could optimize my time better the rest of the morning.
And that’s when I realized I was being just as annoying—just as # RISEANDGRIND-oriented—as the people who cold plunge to show they can “do hard things,” which, of course, they then post to Instagram since wellness content gets those clicks.
And so, I got to the top of the mountain, plopped my ass down, and told myself I’d just sit and watch and take in the views and the nature without any brainstorming or time constraints.
I did, however, last approximately five minutes before scurrying back to the trailhead because that’s how long it took for my contacts to start feeling like they were freezing to my eyes.
AshevilleExplorer 