WHAT A BLAST!

My skinny ass fit in every single ride at Six Flags Great America! After the first three rides, I stopped even wondering if the buns of flab were going to squeeze into the molded seats or the tummy of lard was going to squish beneath the bars. I was a lean, mean, middle-aged, thrill-seeking machine!

By far, my favorite ride was Superman. It was the only ride where I wondered if the mechanism was really going to hold me in place. But once that initial ascent was complete and I was zooming down, face first toward the earth, I didn't care. It felt like I was soaring through the sky, utterly weightless and completely free.

A couple times during the day I caught myself jumping with glee at the incredible freedom I felt simply experiencing ANYTHING I wanted to at the park with NO physical or endurance limitations placed on me. I felt like I was 12 years old again and completely invincible.

A few times I even got all teary-eyed and choked up with emotion. This day-trip was the single most rewarding experience I've had post-op in that it is the one event that so clearly defined the differences in my life between now and then.

Last year in July I would have lasted exactly 20 minutes before I "had" to sit down. And after a day of walking (my pedometer recorded 12,183 steps at the park on Friday), I would have been tired, achy and immobile for the next 48 hours. This July I don't think I ever stopped to rest and the next day the only ache I felt was from the crappy-ass hotel bed.

The coolest part of the day was the final ride. When I hopped onto Superman for another run around 7 p.m., I wasn't planning on it being the last go for the day. But the line was short and I was riding solo, so I opted for the brief wait for the front row. There were 3 groups of people ahead of me for the 4-seat row. The first group had only 3 riders. So, polite person that I am, I asked the others if they'd mind if I went ahead. No problem. The group of 3 teens--oh, maybe all of 16 years old--didn't even FLINCH that they had to share the ride with me. In fact, they thought it was cool that I was riding by myself.

So the ride takes off and I've got a grin as wide as the Mississippi plastered on my face. We hit the top and then swoop down that first decline and I swear I felt my old skin shimmy off my body and the lightest wings spread out. Nothing in front of me but swirly ground and shiny sky and a world of wonderful possibilities. When that ride of a lifetime came to an end, I could have sworn there'd be tears of joy on my face. The wind must have wiped them away. That sense of freedom and joy and personal accomplishment felt more solid than the ground under my feet did when I stepped out of my seat.

And that's why it was the last ride of the day. I couldn't bear to let that feeling end and no other ride was ever going to do the same thing for me.