One year of Second Breakfast

And one year of cold plunging in the Puget Sound!

Good morning!

A little over a year ago, I launched this newsletter! I can’t believe it’s been a year. I feel proud of myself for starting something I was scared to do and for sticking with it.

I started Second Breakfast because I wanted to create a space to write that’s fully my own. A space separate from the writing I do in my day job—where I’m not someone’s ghostwriter, where I’m not writing to please a client or boss, and where I’m not writing to pay the bills. A space to have fun, make art, and if I’m lucky, build a lovely little community of readers in the process.

It's why I’ve worked hard to remove any pressure around what I create and how often I create it. It’s why, though I’d love to, I rarely write a newsletter every week. I never want Second Breakfast to feel like some task I have to check off my to-do list or something I have to do to meet someone else’s expectations. I’m trying to answer only to my expectations here, which are miraculously lower and better adjusted than most of the expectations I set for myself. I think.

When we live in a culture that constantly urges us to monetize our hobbies—or let’s be real—forces us to monetize them because it’s expensive to survive in this country, it feels like a luxury to pursue something just to “have fun” or be creative for the sake of being creative. I try not to take that for granted.

And I have to remind myself of that on the days when I get frustrated that I couldn’t make time to write, or when the words aren’t coming, or when I lack the knowledge or courage to say exactly what I mean. I’m learning how to show up in a space I’ve only known for a year, in a space that’s still evolving. Whether I like it or not, that shit takes time!

Anyway, I can’t say it enough: I’m so grateful you’re here. Whether you’ve been here from the beginning or just signed up last week, thank you. The Second Breakfast table continues to grow, and every time someone joins us, I can’t help but think how wonderful it is that we get to share this (virtual) space together.

And to those who have reached out to share their perspective on something I wrote, or who have offered me little nudges of encouragement over the past year, I appreciate you more than you know.

(This is a collective reminder—for me, too—that if you like something someone does, TELL THEM! You never know the impact your words will have on someone else.)

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Plunging on a very clear and beautiful winter day a few weeks ago, with the Olympic mountains showing off in the background.

There’s another fun anniversary I’m celebrating this month: one whole year of cold plunging in the Puget Sound.

If that makes you think of the bro-y, white wellness-y, wealthy-people-with-$5,000-cold-plunge-tanks-in-their-manicured-backyard (?!) culture of cold plunging, 1) You’re not alone; 2) This is not that. (Though maybe it would be if I had money to blow and didn’t live near a swimmable body of water…)

Just kidding. What I love most about cold plunging is being outside in a natural body of water. I don’t think I’d do it otherwise.

For me, cold plunging morphed from an impromptu New Years Day activity last year into a weekly ritual that has resulted in new and deeper friendships, a better understanding of aquatic flora and fauna, and a significantly higher cold tolerance.

It’s shown me that there’s still time to accomplish things you never thought you could. It’s also shown me how much easier it is to do those things when you have a supportive community around you. It’s reminded me of the importance of mental strength, how deep breathing can quickly calm our nervous system, and how our fingers and toes deserve a lot more credit than they get. It’s taught me that bad moods go away quickly in cold water. It’s taught me to really appreciate a hot shower and a hot cup of coffee. It’s reminded me that there are few foods more warming and comforting than congee (shout out to the amazing congee spot right by the beach). It’s given me a greater understanding of why people wax poetic about cold plunging—almost insufferably so—and it makes me wonder: Am I one of those people now?!

I could write a lot more about how cold plunging has wormed its way into my skeptical heart, but no one needs that (see above), so I’ll just share what I wrote recently on Instagram, which I think sums it up:

A little over a year ago, our friend group decided to polar plunge on New Years Day. Then, someone (probably jokingly) was like: Should we do this every week? And so, for the past 13 months, we've plunged in the Puget Sound every Sunday morning—in sun, in rain, in brutal winds, in warm breezes, in low tide and high tide, with seals and sea lions swimming by, seagulls flying above, and on clear days, the Olympic mountains standing majestically in the distance.

And in the process, we've weathered a lot of life events together: leaving jobs, getting new ones, starting companies, experiencing loss, navigating breakups, finding out friends are pregnant, welcoming a new baby to our Sunday plunge crew (who watches bundled from the shore), living through horrific events in the U.S. and around the world, cultivating new friendships, and finding a shit ton of joy and laughter. So much laughter.

I never thought in a million years I'd be someone who cold plunges (and looks forward to it) but life is full of lots of surprises, and this has been one of the most pleasant ones.

Thanks for letting me celebrate these personal milestones with you. Now let’s celebrate some of yours! What milestones or new beginnings are you excited about? Let’s hear ‘em!

In the meantime, I hope you have a great week.

Elizabeth