I used a chainsaw yesterday.
It was faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to cut through branches in a single swipe.
I was Super Sawer.
The big green monstrosity in our yard that we referred to as tree-bush finally met its long-awaited demise. For three years we'd been looking at that hideous thing, dreaming of the day we could plant something else in its place.
But the biggest rush didn't come when I watched our friend's truck forcefully yank the 4-foot-wide stump from the ground, enabling me to revel in the resulting crater of possibility.
It was feeling the weight of that power tool in my arms, the motor vibrating my bones.
After the guys took a few swipes at the trunk-like branches, I was itching to try it. Roger gave me a quick tutorial and handed over the machine. It was heavy and hot, the exhaust spewing at my legs. I placed the saw up to the branch I wanted to cut and pressed a button on top and a lever on the bottom to turn it on.
Before I knew it, wood chips were flying in every direction, covering everything from my hair to my flip-flopped feet in sawdust. My muscles strained as I pushed through the limb, then the tension finally gave way as it fell to the ground.
I let out a scream.
"WOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo! ... THAT was AWESOME!"
If I was the type of person to wear a cowboy hat, I would've waived it over my head and slammed it to the ground. To be completely honest, a "Yee Haw!" was on the back of my lips, struggling to escape. But I squelched it.
My heart was pounding, my blood was flowing -- it was such an adrenaline rush. With wide eyes, I powered through another branch. And another. And another.
When my arms were threatening to give up on me, my back was screaming and my legs were shaking, I regretfully handed it back over to Jerry.
If my body hadn't started protesting the activity, I probably would've left a wake of limbs and leaves through our entire back yard until everything was leveled to the grass.
But it would've been worth it.