The Roller Coaster of Life

     This past week was a roller coaster. Both figuratively and literally. It started with actual roller coasters Sunday at Six Flags, Discovery Kingdom, followed by a surprise on the way home. It ended with more roller coasters on a second trip to Six Flags, followed by some emotional roller coasters.

The generator of Screams

      I loved roller coasters as a kid. I couldn't wait until I was tall enough to ride the Cyclone at Lakeside Amusement Park in Colorado. I ran to the Scream Machine with my friends at Six Flags over Georgia.  As I got older, I began to hesitate getting on coasters. Maybe I was getting soft, or maybe in the advanced age of 17, I was now becoming aware of my mortality (maybe it had something to do with me getting scared to death on a ride called the “Free Fall”). I still enjoyed the speed, but hated the first drop after that long climb. Other than a brief stint of bravery when I went on my first coaster with a loop, I hadn't been on any “real” coasters since my early 20’s (Space Mountain, while fun, is not a real coaster). This changed (with a vengeance) last Sunday.

      Partially fueled by my current “do the opposite of what my minds says to do” philosophy, and mostly by the desire not to chicken out in front of my adult companion, I warmed up on the wooden “Roar” coaster, then proceeded directly to the second scariest-looking ride in the park, the Superman. It was a blast. I was like a little kid, nearly screaming “Again! Again!” (Yes, like you, Princess Sophia). The lines were incredibly short that day, so, other than chickening out before the V2 (I redeemed myself on the second visit), we managed quite a few coasters that day.

There's a reason you can't see the
entire drop in this pic

     While walking to the Medusa, which was the one I was most excited about because of the loops, my jaw fell when I saw the huge initial drop. I got myself on the coaster by telling myself that in order to get to all the loops which I wanted, I’d have to do the drop, which I was dreading. I dismissed this philosophical gem until later, when I was trying to encourage someone by using a paraphrased version of what I thought that day. It was then I realized that when people say life is a roller coaster, it’s actually a better analogy than you think.

Waiting in Line

The line is arguably the scariest part of any roller coaster. Not because of the wait (which is sucky, not scary) but because of the anticipation. You see car after car go by. You hear the screams. You have way

too much time to second guess things, and you can easily get out of line and abandon the ride at any time.

Much of life is spent waiting in some sort of line. Since our society is dominated by the clock and calendar, we have to make appointments; plan things out, and make a plethora of decisions. Unfortunately, like the roller coaster line, the time waiting for these scheduled events is sometimes spent over-thinking and over-planning things. This leads to second-guessing and doubt. When the line is short, like our day at Six Flags, you have less time to think and more time to react, and in return, whether things turn out good or bad, you get to experience more out of life.

Strapping In (and the climb)

With the exception of the infamous “pass-through-to-the-exit technique”, once you sit in the seat, you’re committed. You’re strapped in, rapidly climbing to the dreaded drop, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

This is what happens when you commit to something. A new relationship, not taking that less fulfilling, but higher paying job, going back to school, or even ordering dinner. Once you say “yes” (or “no”), it’s time to strap in and see what happens. While it’s a little easier to get out of real life commitments than a roller coaster seat, the consequences are the same. You feel ashamed, a little embarrassed, and in some cases you have a whole crowd looking at you. Worse, you let down your companions who now have to ride next to an empty seat.

The Drop

The free fall can be either frightening, thrilling, or a little of both. That climb built up your adrenaline and you are no longer in control of where this thing is going. Like I alluded to earlier, despite how the fall makes you feel, it’s the only way to get to the loops, dips and turns.

In life, the drop is when you launch yourself into your commitment and things aren’t under your control. It’s the hard part that you have to go through to get to the good stuff that led you to making the commitment in the first place. It’s that moment after you say “I quit”, when you announce to your parents “I’m pregnant”, when you hit “send” to prospective publishers of that first novel, or when you tell your crush that you’re falling in love with them. You put yourself out there, and now it’s up to either another person, or life, to react.

The Loops, Turns, and Ups & Downs

This is the heart of the coaster. Some of it’s fun. Some of it’s scary. You’re up. You’re down. You’re sideways. Sometimes even backwards.

If much of life is spent waiting in line, this is the part when you’re really living it. Everything has the potential to go in any direction, and the majority of the time it’s up to you to make the best of it, even if you’re holding on for dear life. The highs and lows are all part of it, but one secret I’ve learned is that that both produce great stories. You’ll retell the tale of the time you caught the biggest fish in the lake (and leave out the part of how you never wanted to go in the first place). The tale of the girl who broke your heart can serve as a warning to others, and better yet, serve as a prelude to how you met the love of your life. Those eight hours spent in the ER fixing your broken leg may well be worth relaying the awesome time you spent skiing with your friends.

Some coasters are fast and furious; others seem to last forever with limitless momentum. Either way, it’ll eventually slow down without an additional boost. Recognize and enjoy the moment.

The Ride Back

Once you pass the final loop, turn, or drop, your car has used up all its momentum and you have a little moment of calm as you slowly move to the unloading area. You have a little down-time to reflect on whether you enjoyed yourself or not, and begin making a decision on whether you want to go again, change seats, or try a new ride.

Every once and a while in life, you’ll find a comfortable lull. This is the time for self-reflection. You stop and look at your life and have an opportunity to see if you want to continue, make a change, or try something new. Use this time wisely, because it’s usually over before you know it and you could be either be forced to keep riding or kicked off, all because you weren't paying attention.

     Approach life as you would a coaster. That way you’ll always know that the frightening drops lead to the fun of the twists and turns. You’ll know that if you like it, you can commit to keep riding. If you don’t, you’ll be aware that all coasters run out of momentum and you’ll be given an opportunity to get off at some point. The ride is what you’re living for. It’s what all the time and effort goes towards. Enjoy it all, because when you’re not on the coaster, you’re stuck waiting in line.