It starts clear back at the beginning of May. Color guard tryouts, and then parade season; my least favorite of all the seasons. Once those two grueling months of practice marching down long streets under the scorching sun are over, field show season starts. This one has the longest practices, the longest season, the most drastic weather changes, yet the most energy and excitement.
Band camp, Delta, Utah…need I say much more? I’ve never seen a more barren place than Delta, Utah; a vast expanse of…nothing. There isn’t a town for another forty-five minutes, and you can barely see the existence of mountains on the horizon to the east. We wake up at five for early morning practice until seven. It’s tough waking up so early to go spin a weapon, not only in the dark with a lone street lamp for light but frozen fingers making it nearly impossible to risk catching. Yet it’s worth it and although I didn’t realize it much then, I loved the experience of being outside as the sun rose from the east, caressing the land with its warmth and light. After early practice, we would go inside to eat breakfast and to shower until 8:30. After which, we head out to the field; a vast expanse, again, of nothing, maybe three football fields in size. There are trees along the perimeter, but that doesn’t do us much good as we stand in the middle of a football field. We spend hours learning sets and drill, having the Dr. Beat (the metronome) blast through our entire body all week until it seems to overpower the beat of our own hearts. Aside from the hour break for lunch and dinner, we are outside under the blistering sun running against the wind until the world becomes still and there is hardly enough light to see in front of us.
Then it’s on to music rehearsal. This is one of the best parts of band camp. The entire band somehow manages to fit into the cafeteria of the recreation center to practice playing the field show all together. Just imagine for a moment sitting in the middle of 250 band members as they play through the movements. The music completely engulfs you; you feel it in every fiber, every ounce of your body and the energy is overwhelming. It’s amazing! That right there, that feeling, that energy and power, that’s what I love. I’ve ask myself may times while at band camp and rehearsals why I’m doing this again, why I’m torturing myself by spending practically every hour of my life at color guard. But the answer is always right there in the music, in the show; it’s that energy that consumes my entire being while I’m out there on that football field, performing and showing the world what I do best. Our first performance of the year: September 27, 2008, Logan, Utah. It was going to be a good show. We had practiced long and hard and had the cuts and bruises to prove it. I hadn’t been feeling well that day, but I wasn’t going to let that interfere with my performance. It was just like every other show I had experienced since my sophomore year; we got our minds in focus, stretched, warmed up, and then waited for our turn to perform. Those last few moments of silence were spent running the show over in our minds to make every move perfect and that’s exactly what was going to happen. What happened next blindsided me like nothing I have ever before experienced. The show started and everything was going well. The first movement was great, no major mistakes. Then on to the second movement. Half way through and tragedy struck. I was running backwards, throwing a simple double, something I had done perfectly a million times, but then, I rolled my ankle. Pain shot through me like a bolt of lightning; I wanted to scream and collapse on the ground but I was in the middle of the field surrounded by 250 band members all going different directions, what could I do? I took the next few steps; they were practically unbearable. My eyes, blurred with tears and confusion, shot around in different directions as I looked for an escape route, yet there was none. I stumbled over the routine trying to get a grip on what was going on. It was clear to me that my only option was to continue. So I pulled myself back together, forced a smile through tear-filled eyes, and did just that – I continued.
The mind is a powerful thing and one can truly do anything when they put their mind to it. I finished the second movement and was bent down ready to pick up my rifle for the third movement when I felt a slight amount pain begin to grow in my ankle. But that was not going to stop me; I was finishing my show. The music began, and so did I. I kept my mind focused on my performance, and that power, along with the adrenaline surging through my body, allowed me to finish what was to be my last color guard performance.
Tanner took most of the pictures, but I'm very proud of this one that I took without him even knowing it. I believe he's deep in thought, and I captured the moment!
