Ducks Robbie Ritter, 53, and daughter Kori Ritter, 24, await judging. (Danese Kenon / Indianapolis Star)

Safey crews splashes Dorothy / Jeremy Stout, 32, Greenwood. (Danese Kenon / Indianapolis Star)

Make sure to watch the Polar Plunge video. You'll find a link to it at the top of the post or at www.indy.com/videos (Ben Neff / Indy.com)

Former Indianapolis Colts linebacker Jeff Herrod splashes in 30-degree water at the Polar Plunge. (Danese Kenon / Indianapolis Star)

Click here to watch a video of Konrad jumping into Eagle Creek Reservoir at the Polar Plunge

Can't. Type.

Too. Cold.

Extremities. Still. Frozen.

OK, that might be something of an exaggeration, but not much. On Saturday, I jumped into Eagle Creek Reservoir. Don't ask me why. It seemed like an interesting thing to do, an experience.

This was the 2008 Polar Plunge to benefit Special Olympics Indiana, so I was freezin' for a reason. A cold body for a warm-hearted cause. Not a bad tradeoff.

At least that's what I thought, until I arrived at water's edge and saw a team of insulated divers knocking the surface-level ice away from the shore. The murky brown arc of near-frozen open water made me want to get back into my car and leave.

Instead, I stripped down to my Polar Plunge T-shirt and a pair of shorts, while other "bears" readied their costumes -- guys dressed as Dorothy Gale, a uniformed football team, a girl in a bikini. (When the water is 30 degrees, a bikini counts as a "costume.")

Former Colts linebacker Jeff Herrod (a VIB -- Very Important Bear) just stood there, shirtless, looking huge. He was probably the closest in size to an actual polar bear.

But that's the thing about Ursus maritimus -- those brilliant furry, white, thousand-pound beasts are not just muscle. They have almost 5 inches of blubber to keep out the cold.

I am at present a touch on the jolly side, and pasty from a lack of summer sun, but I was in no way flabby enough to take a wintry dip and not feel pain. Here's how I know. When I ran and then dove into that water, I stopped smiling and thinking about the funny "experience" I was having, and started actually experiencing it.

Landing in that water was like having someone slap you in the face and punch you in the chest all at once. Then the adrenalin hits, and your body realizes how completely you have deceived the poor thing.

Your muscles tense with anger. Your skin burns at the betrayal. Your core has been shaken from homoeostatic bliss and dumped into a temperature that, after a while, kills.

Then a strange numbness grows, as if your flesh were in denial over the actions of your cavalier mind.

The first time you feel any pain is in the changing room, as you start peeling off whatever wet gear you were wearing, and the warm air of a space heater hits you.

Your whole body is overwhelmed by that pins-and- needles feeling you get when a near-frostbitten toe is warmed in front of a fire.

Then what? You realize that you didn't bring a change of shoes, so you walk, in the wet ones on your feet, back to your car. You crank up the heat, and down an extra hot coffee, although you are in no need of caffeine.

You retreat indoors and soak in the tub. You sit there, adding more hot water, coming back to life.

You glance at the faucet with the blue marking, and you stare that tap down. That tap doesn't know the first thing about cold.

Go plunge yourself

If the Polar Plunge sounds appealing (though I can't imagine how that's possible), and you're willing to drive to the extremities of Indiana, there are two March 1 plunges for interested Hoosiers -- in Michigan City and Palmyra. For details, visit www.soindiana.org/SpecialEvents/PolarPlunge/tabid/76/Default.aspx