Polar Plunging in Canada - Icy Hot Exhilarating Ritual

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham in Magog Quebec Canada at her first (and not last) polar plunge. So refreshing!

A grey wooden building, with numerous extensions blocking the private back view, greeted us as we arrived in Magog, Quebec for another once-in-a-lifetime experience on my adventure bucket list. The sky was the color of a bluebird, light snow covered the differing-sized pines and birch trees, and a rushing river surrounded the quaint lodge. It was February break and instead of going south to palm trees and warmth, we headed north to our Canadian neighbor.

Dr. Jacob P. Chamberlain, Rory Shamlian, and Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham ready to polar plunge

My brother knew I was interested in polar plunging this winter and instead of freezing to death after plunging, he suggested trying a Nordic Station Spa with a thermal cycle built into one’s experience after the icy river. The Nordic Tradition, as the spa called it, is an ancestral ritual originating from Finland – also known as thermotherapy. In this ritual, a person alternates from hot, cold, and relaxation to reach a euphoric sense of wellness. The hot/cold cycle is repeated three times. 

Trying to temper my excitement to jump in the river first to try this new sport-of-sorts of polar plunging, I was instructed to bake in the sauna, then sit in a hot tub, and then cool off in the river or a cooler pool of water. As I sat in the sauna looking out at the frilly branches of a tree with a dazzling display of silver and white specks on top and falling from them, I relaxed a bit knowing the excitement was coming soon. When I was hot enough, I left the hothouse and headed down the outside stairs to the river.

Sure 32-degree water is cold, but I swim in Maine ocean waters, so it wasn’t alarming even though it was 30 degrees cooler. As I dropped my robe uncovered my bathing suit, took off my sandals, walked on the snow, and approached the icy edges of the river, I held onto the rope, dropped down into the current, let out a shrillful glee for 10 seconds, and got back up out of the river bed onto the snow and into my robe exhilarated. 

Letting the fun sink in!

Scampering off quickly from the shore with purplish toes, we headed for the hot whirlpool tub. Our bodies warmed and the sun hit our heads. Snow fell lightly from the trees, steam rose above the water and blocked the view of others in the tub, and that euphoric feeling overcame me. Where else would I want to be but here treating myself to both a daring, and relaxing way of Nordic life?

Following the thermal cycle, we went from saunas, into the Russian Banya, Steam Crypt, relaxation rooms, outdoor cool pools, hot tubs, and around again, even dunking into the river two more times, before three hours had gone by and we were ready to return our plush robes and head out for some poutine (another first) at Magog’s Winterfest.

A Sport of Stillness - Deer Hunting

Adam, Tracy and Scott Higginbotham - Opening Day Deer Hunting 2023

Sitting as still as a human being can, I peered into the depths of the woods in front of me as the sun rose. When you can’t speak, only listen and see, details pop into life bolder and livelier. We got to our perfectly scouted camp spot in the darkness of early morning with only the brightness of the moon and a few flashlights.

As sunbeams started to pierce the dark forest, I noticed things you wouldn’t typically notice unless you were in the woodland at 6 a.m. I was mesmerized by a tree sapling covered with moss changing differing hues of green as the sun hit it, by two droplets of dew hovering for dear life on a branch never falling or evaporating, and by the wind changing directions every twenty minutes rustling cinnamon-colored leaves on a small bush. I wondered, “Why does the wind change direction so often?”

Annually, I join my husband and sons on the opening day of deer hunting season, mostly to be with them since I’m not interested in shooting an animal, and to experience this mostly male ritual since being a female typically excludes you from learning to hunt. If I’m a feminist then I want to experience some of my life from a male perspective.

Tracy and Adam Higginbotham

As a four-point buck, so silent you didn’t hear him, walked into sight of our hunting blind, my son slowly lifted his gun for a shot, but before the blink of an eye, the super-keen-eared deer hopped up and over fallen trees through the forest until all we saw was his white tail rejoicing in winning the day. We were so close, and yet so far away, from hitting this superior creature aware of every single aspect of his surroundings.

As my son grumbled having not taken a shot, I sat for a moment thinking how hard it must have been for the pilgrims and Indians to forge for food. With so much ground to cover, with animals knowing their terrain better than humans, it is amazing there was food for the first Thanksgiving Day meal. I imagine I would have starved to death as an early pioneer woman if I had to rely solely on my hunting skills.

As the chilly day started coming to an end as the sun started to settle itself, my husband shot a doe. I got to experience the things that happen after a deer is shot - none of which I want to describe in my blog because it might be too sensitive for readers. But I was pleased I made it through another year of experiencing this ancient sport in the stillness of the woods surrounded by the abundance of nature, my son, and the lessons it taught me - that women can hunt too if they want.

Water Therapy - Stand Up Paddleboard Yoga

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham of Women TIES and the Women’s Athletic Network trying out SUP Yoga

Lying flat on a board, a little wider than my body, I stared up at the deep blue sky with cotton clouds and put my hands in the warm Bay Creek river. Listening to the calming voice of our instructor, the ever-positive Lynne Boucher, five of us settled into the calm of a late August afternoon. Listening carefully the creek reeds jostled in the late summer breeze, the water rippled, birds chirping in the wild, and even far away traffic on the road leading to our destination tickled my eardrums. “Ah!” it was so worth the wait.

Hope Breen leading the way!

In business, as in life, you have to be patient sometimes. Due to bad weather, this was our third attempt trying Stand Up Paddleboard Yoga for my lifetime sports goal. Bobbing on SUP boards next to me were four willing women, all of whom were entrepreneurs ending their summer office hours in peace. We were all hesitant paddling out to the perfect spot in the creek until we got our feet under us and natural instincts took over.

I tried Stand Up Paddle board for the first time on St. John’s Island last year on much wilder waves. I fell in a few times but like a good sport got right back up and tried again until I felt comfortable on it. SUP isn’t a hard sport; it just takes time to settle your legs and knees into a balanced stance so you can comfortably paddle forward as waves move you along. It is like riding a bicycle in many ways, once you understand the balance, you can do it confidently.

The harder part of this SUP experience was anchoring your board and slowly doing yoga poses on this moveable floor. If yoga is one thing, it is slow movements, which lends itself to moving on a board in the water. Our instructor allowed us to do the poses we wanted at the degree of hardness we wanted to try. Almost all of us were able to do harder poses and none of us fell in the water.

Downward Doggin’ it during SUP Yoga.

My favorite time doing this sport was “playtime” when we could do anything we wanted including jumping up and down on the board if we dared. Oh, don’t dare me! I saw one of my members do it and the next thing I knew I launched myself in the air a number of times, again not falling in. I would have never thought I could do that when I first stepped off the dock onto the board. Confidence climbs.

As our beautiful, tranquil, and yet sometimes challenging time, came to an end all my guests and I thought it was such a wonderful experience.  A few of them said,

Christina Breen-Hale rocking SUP Yoga

Stacey Murphy readying herself for tree pose

“I was stressed thinking about trying this sport today, but it was so relaxing.”
“It was easier than I thought”
“Once you get your balance, it becomes second nature”

All quotes from the women who came and conquered.

Rucking it Up with Rugby

Uticuse Hellbenders Rugby Team Practice with Tracy

As I topped the tall hill, two flat playing fields (aka “pitches”) lay ready. Approaching the one with the two yellow goalposts on either end like the YouTube video I watched to prepare myself, I saw my cousin Paige, dressed in her former rugby cleats standing near an oblong football much bigger than a regular American football. I knew I was in the right spot to try rugby for the first time.

My first impression of rugby was at college when the men’s team would crazily be dancing around an Indian statue – their mascot of some sort – in a bar on a Friday night. My feeling was they weren’t crazy, but the sport they liked playing must be crazy because that is how they identified themselves as a team when games and practice weren’t in session. So, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect on a balmy May night on the “pitch” in Syracuse.

Like most of the team sports I’ve tried, practice started with simple passing and running drills. In the case of rugby where the ball is larger and is thrown in a unique spiral, getting my hands around it and trying it out was my first lesson. I wasn’t horrible at it since my father, a football coach, taught me how to throw a mean football spiral growing up. I could handle the throw and motion until the passing drills of running while throwing the ball in a timely order to teammates in a moving line sped up my work. And in rugby the ball must be thrown behind or to your side, not in front, so timing is essential to get down.

Once the throws and simple running drills were done, we practiced running more advanced sequences of drills of passing and pocketing behind a teammate repeatedly until we hit the other side. If anyone dropped the ball, a “half-moon” exercise was given to the team. I definitely contributed to the half-moon workout which was basically a burpee plus a half-squat turn in both directions upon standing – thus the soreness in my thighs today.

After practicing the offensive drills, we turned to defensive drills learning the importance of working in a line to stop the offensive players from coming through. This is where my age and lack of quickness slowed me down. Running forward is one thing, trying to run as fast as the offensive line trying to catch up with them was another. Thank God their full-body tackling exercises were last week. When asked if anyone has gotten really hurt tackling without pads, I heard a few horror stories but not as many as you’d think. “Tracy, the old girls play just touch and not tackle,” a few of them told me. Yeah, that might be where I belong, I thought if I wanted to continue playing.

As the hazy sun started setting after two hours of a really fun time, they took me over to the “scrum machine” to give me a taste of what a scrum feels like. A scrum is a method of restarting play in rugby football that involves players packing closely together with their heads down and attempting to gain possession of the ball. With two teammates on my side, we maneuvered into the machine for the feeling and a photo opportunity. This is where I knew for sure you must have strong legs for rugby.

Playing along with a team of great girls reminded me why I love all women communities because bonds develop quickly and you want them to linger. So, I accepted their invitation to a restaurant across the pitch for food and drinks. It’s there I learned more about a few of the players and enjoyed casual conversation. My cousin Paige said, “This happens after all rugby games – both teams coming together afterwards to share in the experience and getting to know each other.”  

As I said goodbye to my rugby pals, they handed me my own rugby ball to keep for practice and invited me back anytime to play with them. I told them I would join cheering them on at a special fundraiser they host annually for a cancer patient called “Ruck Cancer,” and perhaps rejoin them for another great night of running, passing, scrumming, and bonding on and off the field.

Trying a Triathlon - A Mini Version at R.I.T.

Hope Breen and Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham ready to hit the pool!

The cool refreshing water tingled my toes as they dipped in the pool. Of all the legs of this Mini-Triathlon, the swimming portion was the one I looked forward to most. As a long time swimmer and competitive one from junior high to high school, I hadn’t competed in a pool for forty years although I swim any chance I get in my own pool and the ocean. “7B” written in big black marker on my right hand told me I’d be on the left side of the lane sharing it with my younger friend, Hope Breen, a professional business woman and big time TikTok influencer. She was marked “7A” or “7-Awesome” in my mind for joining me.

This particular Mini-Triathlon meant we would swim 15 minutes as someone counted our laps. In the end, the number of laps would be added to the number of bike miles and running laps. “Go!” someone shouted and off we went. Swimming came back as natural as ever, and I was happily immersed in this portion of the race I couldn’t train for since it is March in Central New York. After 15 minutes, I completed 27 laps, not bad I thought hearing the person before me swam 20.

The hardest part of this race was changing from a wet bathing suit to biking/running gear in only 5 minutes. My chest just didn’t want to cooperate getting into a dry bra quick, getting tangled on my back. So what is a girl to do? I asked a random woman in the locker room to adjust it for me, “Sure, no problem!” Got to love women! Off I ran, to find the biking portion had already started.

Stationary Bikes in the middle of the track made for a smooth transition

Jumping on a stationary bike without time to adjust the speed, I biked much faster than I typically do which felt heavenly, I was speeding away to catch up. As the bike time counted down, I recorded 4 miles in less than 15 minutes which is longer than I thought. “Yes!” I said to Adriana Loh, the Spectrum News Reporter, taping my whole triathlon experience and interviewing me between legs.

Since the bikes sat in the middle of the track, no problem being late to run, so Hope and I lined up next to each other in our hot pink Women TIES shirts ready to run. Being a long time runner, Hope knew I would speed off at times only to come back around and walk/jog with her to catch my breath due to asthma. In the end, we finished together being cheered on by some lovely, energetic R.I.T. female college students. Giving them a big “W” with my fingers indicated “Women Rule,” I thanked them for their pink energy.

Just like in everyday life and business, a woman came up to me asking if I was a breast cancer survivor based on my obvious lack of hair due to Alopecia. She was a 25-year survivor of breast cancer which reminded me that my friend Teresa Huggins, had competed in a triathlon after losing a friend to the disease, just like I was doing for Teresa today. I knew she was looking down from heaven smiling at my turn to do a triathlon for her especially since the person who registered me at the front desk called me “Teresa” instead of “Tracy.” Divine messages from above.

The third leg of the triathlon is running right when your legs are burned.

I have come to believe that when women perform sports together, they bond in a very natural and deep way, due to the uniqueness of the sporting experience by overcoming anxiety and trepidation and empowering ourselves when the sport is over. Perhaps the best way to summarize what doing a Triathlon with another woman is bonding due to blood, sweat, and tears (and laughter and joy). You don’t get that sitting in a typical networking luncheon.

I am looking forward to trying another Triathlon and potentially joining my new Rochester Triathloners that I met at the event. Everywhere you go, people in sports are friendly and positive. Not only is trying a new sport exhilarating but addictive so I say to you “Give it a Tri!”

Trial Runs

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham - “Try A Tri” Training - 1 mile run timed at 15 minutes.

The weekend long runs leading up to the Boston Marathon were trial periods as well as training runs for me.  It’s impossible to think you can do something physically, like running a marathon, by just thinking you can; instead you need to prove to yourself you can.

It isn’t so different in entrepreneurship when the idea to start a business, grow it successfully, and reap in the profits can be dreamed about, but not realized unless you test run the idea through a business plan, with advisors, and tweaking the specifics of the plan a year into running it. What we envision isn’t always what we face when we begin and try.

3 miles in 15 minutes was the biking time for today’s trial

As I jumped on my bike in 35 degrees, cool, sunny, but very windy conditions this Saturday to test a combination biking and running sequence before next week’s first ever mini-triathlon, I knew I had to try my hardest while timing myself in 15-minute increments to see the mileage I biked and ran individually for some comparison for myself for the upcoming race. I bike. I run. I don’t bike and then run after each other, so it was a test.

Since the mini triathlon is based on timing and not distance since it was a created event by RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology) to give people a taste of what a triathlon is like, I needed to put the sports back-to-back to see how my body responded. Since my pool is closed this time of year due to snow, the 15-minute swim portion will be a mystery until I get in their pool. As a long time swimmer, I know I can do it but adding a third and different sport to the other two might test me a bit but, I’m ready.

No training for the swim portion of the Triathlon with the pool closed!

When I think back to launching my two company websites in a span of ten years, I remember needing to have the websites tested before they went live. I invited friends and business associates to “test” it out and tell me what they thought. I ended up tweaking the pages based on their experiences.

Similar to today when I only ran 1 mile in 15 minutes, I know to improve my distance for the event, I need to run more 1-milers this week to get more speed down. I wouldn’t have had that feeling if I waited until the actual event to see I needed more training in the run portion of the event.

Even though I’m not going for a medal (or am I for my age group at least?), it is still wise to put in the miles, tests, and trails to get a sense of where you stand, what you need to improve, and to help guide you the day of the event or launch. When you put in the miles, your mind knows you’ve done your best to prepare for what is ahead. It is then only up to you to do your best and succeed. Wish me luck next week!  

Flipping the Coin for Women's Football

The call came in on a random business afternoon by a female leader of a new women’s semi-pro football team called the Syracuse Sting. I met her at one of the business networking events I was leading as she promoted her new team, looking for sponsors and supporters to fill the stands. There hadn’t been a woman’s football team in CNY at that point so promoting it was essential for its success.

Cabrina Gilbert, Founder of Women’s Syracuse Sting Football Team, Syracuse NY

Always willing to help another woman out, especially a woman who owned her own football team, I embraced Cabrina Gilbert with open arms willing to help in anyway promote the team for her. Memories of watching my father play football and coach football resonated in my memory. Only a powder-puff football player for one game in high school, but an avid watcher of my favorite team the Denver Broncos because of John Elway, made me an instant fan of the Syracuse Sting.

With a promise to host a women’s business night out at the football game – played at our AAA baseball field of the Syracuse Chiefs – we promoted one of the Sting’s games. Along with the promotion came a really cool request. “Tracy, would you honor us by flipping the game coin at the start of the game?” Cabrina asked. “YES! I would love to,” I replied. How cool was this going to be, I thought to myself.

The night of the game I bought a Syracuse Sting sweatshirt to wear onto the field to look the part. Merchandise for an entity like a women’s semi-pro football team was an important revenue stream and promotional tool. When I was called, I walked onto the field with Cabrina and three other very tall, big, cool female football players to the middle where we met the official. The lights of the stadium glowed as the sun was setting and what felt like my “Superbowl moment” minus a million fans occurred. I don’t remember what I called – heads or tails – but the flip worked and our team got the option to choose if they wanted to receive or play.

Sadly, as I walked back to the sideline; I noticed how few spectators were in the stands. Why wouldn’t our community support a woman’s football team? Where were the young girls to inspire? Or more business women to financially support this feminine corporation? Well, the game happened in the late 1990s when even the NFL wouldn’t support the Syracuse Sting, as Cabrina explained to me when I asked her. Sometimes a novel idea, is too novel for most people. But hopefully the world will keep changing for women interested in the sport.

Sarah Fuller of Vanderbilt College is their football kicker making herstory!

The team didn’t last long mostly due to lack of an audience and financial support but I will never forget being impressed enough that there as a women’s football team in Syracuse and walking out under the summer lights sandwiched between tall football players. I still have my Syracuse Sting sweatshirt and wear it once in awhile to remind myself that women in all aspects of sports, business, and life still need my support…..and yours too.

Freedom Is a Bikeway

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham, daily bike routine, Syracuse, NY

I hop on my trusty friend with white iPods blaring favorite tunes when all of a sudden, Jimmie Allen’s “Freedom Was A Highway” comes on.  As the bike path below my rotating tires catches my eye, I switch up the lyrics singing “Freedom Is a Bikeway,” and bike on, and on, and on. Almost too delirious in joy to stop when my legs are tired. If it’s a sunny 44-degree-day in Syracuse, NY in the middle of winter and I’m biking, I’m ecstatic and I’m going longer than I think – I ride on pure happiness.

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham, Alopecia Biking Girl

Learning ride a bike is almost as elementary as learning to walk, tying one’s shoes, and putting on a jacket. Everyone remembers getting on their first tricycle for the first time or their yellow banana bike (I might be dating myself here) or their first ten speed roadster and heading off down a driveway or street. When we become parents, we remember teaching their kids how to ride a bike, praying they don’t tip over and take a patch of skin off their knees that might require iodine, like we had applied to our scrapes.

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham - Bike West Shore of Onondaga Lake

I associate freedom with biking because of the way it makes me feel – and maybe you too. The speed of moving faster than walking, wind blowing in one’s hair, moving along, taking in the sights, and feeling simply free and in control of one’s life for a moment or two. It’s not so different for me as a 58-year-old woman taking off for her lunch hour to bike an easy 9-miles or 15-miler if I have the time. It was the suave I needed when I became a bald woman four years ago because no one cared what someone looks like when they are biking or doing sports, and on my bike I found my new image and myself again.

It was on my bike four years ago that the passion of riding enveloped me. I had been a runner for 15 years eventually running in the Boston Marathon on a charity team when a simple tear to my hip muscle one July day stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t run forward. I was told to rest but I couldn’t. Soon I discovered my hip didn’t hurt when I biked.  My natural Italian energy soars every day even only drinking half-caf coffee; and as you know what goes up, must come out – or down – depending on how you look at it.

Taking to my bike instead of my running shoes, reminded me of the freedom of skiing downhill when speed was the goal – of mine at least. The faster I could go, the happier I was. I tucked and bombed it out, never wiping out. Biking down hills fast puts me right back on the slopes. Biking up bigger hills eventually taught my legs and lungs to be stronger. Biking became addictive and remains so for me, so much so I bike all year long in snowy Central New York if the roads are clear enough.

So yes, for me, and hopefully for you some day, biking will be your freedom highway.  Start biking more and let me know if you need someone to go with you! I’m available. 

West Lake Trail, Onondaga Lake Trail, Syracuse, NY