Sisu and Forward: a story about winter swimming and crayon-colored rooms

I sat in my truck wearing a bathing suit, wool hat, and neoprene boots. It was 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside, the wind gusts were twenty miles an hour, and the water temperature was 40 degrees Fahrenheit. A wind carved crust of snow covered the beach. Two-foot waves swelled and crashed against the shore, and icy snow lashed out of a gray sky.

I told myself I could go home. No one would blame me. I had no desire to go out into the bay, but I knew my day would be better if I did. Besides, it was the morning of my fortieth birthday, and winter swimming is part of who I am.

On my right wrist, I wear a thin, navy rope bracelet. There is a small, engraved silver plate that reads: Sisu and Forward. As I sat in my truck, I read the engraving, stopped considering, and went for a plunge into the cold waters.   

When I tell people I like to swim in the Grand Traverse Bay year-round, especially in the winter, it usually elicits a visceral response.

Why do I do it? I winter swim because it’s good for my condition. It allows me to appreciate the beauty in doing hard things. There is a spiritual element to being in the water, especially as the sun rises. It forces me to grapple with my body and mind. I must surrender to short-term sacrifice for long-term gain. Oh, and the flood of dopamine and endorphins that quells anxiety and creates a steely focus, that’s nice, too.  

But I get it, maybe it is crazy. If you had explained this practice to me just two years ago, I would have had a similar response. So, what changed? As is common with these radical reversals of thinking, it was a confluence of many things. The primary driver, however, was a growing fascination with Finnish culture and specifically one word: Sisu.

Let’s back up a year and one week. On December 14, 2023, I walked into a white room that was covered floor to ceiling in crayon art. I was alone in the room, there with the art, scribbles, and poetic words of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of others who had visited the room before me. It was a surreal moment, not something planned, fate maybe, and certainly something I needed.

I was seven thousand miles from home in the Arts District of Helsinki, Finland, where I happened upon the Helsinki Arts Museum (HAM) at random on an unplanned afternoon walk. The museum was empty that day, aside from the few staff members attending various rooms. I sauntered through empty galleries, each one increasingly strange. I was in a fun house, falling down the rabbit whole, and peering through the looking glass all at once. Ultimately the path through the galleries led me to the small crayon-colored room where I sat alone and wondered if this was just a bizarre dream. But as I sat there, a navy-blue crayon in my hand wondering what mark I would leave, the past year was catching up to me.

The reality was this: I was a month out from the final stamp of judge approval on my divorce, a process that took seven months to finalize. I had moved three times that year and was living in a one-bedroom apartment, where my three kids stayed with me every other week. Two months before my trip, I sold the newly built home that I designed and had spent the better portion of thirteen years working toward.

The truth of my trip to Finland was that I was in the process of reengineering my life. I was determined to start a new path, to plunge a rudder deep into the waters of circumstance and navigate a new way forward. I knew that to make this a reality, Sisu was the kind of rudder I needed.  

There is not a straight translation of Sisu to English. It has been described as: inner strength, resilience, and determination; perseverance in a task that for some may seem crazy to undertake, almost hopeless; the ability to push through one’s limits when facing adversity and continue against the odds; setting a course and seeing it through to the end regardless of failures or obstacles.

Personally, I think about Sisu like this: the courage to do the hard things you know are right or good, regardless of the adversity or difficulty. Sometimes it calls for a major effort, feat, or change. More commonly, it is about the small practices that feel daunting but ultimately are good for us. Taking a solo trip to Finland in December was about understanding the essence of Sisu and integrating it into my life.

December in Finland is extreme. The temperature often reads as a negative number. There is less than two hours of sunlight each day. And yet, the city of Helsinki is alive. The snowy running path is lined with joggers, the beach gym, enveloped in ice, has regulars doing pullups in a winter flurry. Wood saunas roar, and plunges into the Baltic Sea are common. The city embraces the darkness with ethereal lights. The Christmas markets buzz with a festive spirit. Restaurants are full. The people are engaging and warm, speaking in one of four languages in which they are fluent.

This was what I was seeking. I wanted to embrace what we commonly categorize as hard, difficult, and inconvenient, and flip these things upside down. What if, instead, these things could be used as fuel for the spirit, a form of alchemy for the character?

As I sat in the crayon-colored room, I wondered what the next years of my life should be about. How would I rebuild? I lifted the navy crayon and wrote on the wall: Sisu and Forward.

There were many important moments on my trip: Helsinki Christmas markets, skiing in the artic circle, the Christmas Village of Lapland, wood saunas, plunges into the Baltic Sea, and afternoons spent in coffee shops drinking espresso and writing. But leaving my mark on the crayon-color wall in the Helsinki Art Museum is the moment I choose to keep with me.

When I returned home from Finland, I special ordered the bracelet with the engraved silver plate that reads: Sisu and Forward. I wear it as a reminder of two things:

First is this: Life will knock you down. It will beat you back from your hopes and dreams. It will distract you, worry you, scare you, and cause you to doubt. But the best parts of life are just on the other side of these moments. Sisu is a mentality that keeps me going, despite the difficulty. It helps me choose a path, embrace the obstacles, and keep going, true to the end.

Second: We are only given the present moment. The past is written, and the future is an illusion. We are forever trapped in the moment, now, and it is constantly sweeping us forward. Forward is the only way. Embrace it. Life is best when we lean in and enjoy the ride.

Now, when I am sitting in my truck before a frigid plunge into the bay, I think of that crayon-colored room. I think of those moments that help us find our way. I remember there is beauty in hard things, and I lean into the moment. Then I go for a swim.