I have spent the last 5 years of my life attempting to explain to people what winter guard is and why I even participate in it.

I get asked if I'm a baton twirler, if I dance in competitions, and why my team doesn't have the band with us. I've settled on one generic answer that I spit out because honestly, it would take me hours to explain the complexities of winter guard and how important it is to me to an outsider. Basically, winter guard is another version of the flag spinning we do with the marching band during halftime shows, but it is indoors and we're all on our own.

I joined completely on a whim in high school. I had no reasoning behind it other than wanting to try something new, and because it looked pretty cool when I watched my friend toss a rifle. At the time, I had no idea how much of an impact this beautiful sport would have on my life. I have dedicated countless hours of my life trying to better myself and my team by perfecting tosses, failing and eventually succeeding at difficult choreography, and performing shows in front of thousands of people.

This sport of the arts has made me realize that I am always stronger than I realize. I spend my life throwing things in the air and hoping to catch them. More often than not, I am covered in bruises from failed toss attempts. It sounds awful on paper, but I just think of them as battle scars.

When I am in the middle of a basic training block, doing hundreds of spins and feeling my muscles inch towards spasming, I just have to tell myself that I can make it through the pain. It's a mind game, really.

Whenever my body weakens, I can always push out 20, 40, 60 more drop spins. I can always crank out one more toss, adding another rotation with each repetition. When I feel like I have to give up, I don't. I have made myself stronger by simply telling myself that I have the ability to keep going, even when my body doesn't want to.

I have also become more confident. Though I am still a soft-spoken person, I am 1000x more confident than I ever was before joining a guard. The pre-show nerves never go away, but I always get through it, even if I make mistakes in front of the crowd. I am always able to get back on track and finish the show. I take this mindset off of the tarp and into the real world, as well. I carry myself with pride, and I take on challenges that I previously wouldn't have even considered approaching.

I have learned that being a part of a team is one of the greatest feelings in the world. Being out on the floor under arena lights with hundreds of eyes on me, it's comforting to know that I have 16 people around me who have the same goal and want to have a successful run together. If I have a bad day, which is inevitable at times,

I keep practicing because I know they need me. I make myself better because we all depend on each other.

I know that absolutely nothing is accomplished alone, both on the floor and off. We lean on each other, and I have never experienced a bond as close-knit as the one I share with my team members and the rest of the guard community. This is evident any time I make a mistake in a show and hear a chorus of "you've got it!" coming from the crowd. I know that even if I feel down and alone, I never really am.

Winter Guard has given me some of the greatest friends, memories, and life lessons I could have ever asked for. I don't mind that it doesn’t make sense to most people, or that I can never fully explain what I do when people ask me about it. I wouldn't have my life any other way and I am eternally grateful for the way this sport has helped shape me into the person I am today.