Summer Statue Sauna

         Summer Statue Sauna                    

By: Jackson Walker Downs

         Standing on the toes of my left foot, my socks gripped the rough asphalt surface beneath my soft beach towel. This pose was silly, I thought. It was just a simple yoga exercise, but that knowledge was as unsatisfying as the glass of milk I drank this morning, which I could feel crawling up my throat. I would soon learn why the sickening combination of milk and activity in the hot sun is a mixture best avoided. I balanced with my right leg behind me and my arms shooting out from my sides, shaking. Like a mortified statue, I balanced there on that concrete bus lot behind the high school building. The other students were trying to match the elderly model posed near the brick school wall and the rough, wooden band tower leaning against it. The morning sun had begun rearing its searing rays over the school roof's edge to assault us with smoldering heat and ultraviolet light. I had put my towel under the cool shade of the school building's shadow.

         The shorts and white t-shirt I wore felt cool, but I was already anticipating the broiling sweat that would stain them. I was furious. Soon I would be out in the insufferable heat of the summer sun doing marching drills for hours. Dread of the band practice to come had diverted my attention away from the stretching elderly woman in her teal shirt and long blue jeans. Instead, my gaze was stuck to my foot. I pitied my soon-to-be aching feet, and the anxious storm devastating my stomach added to my loathing of what would follow these easy exercises.

         How I felt didn't matter. I had made a commitment, and I needed to follow through regardless of my current emotions. I suppose this was the point where I began to understand the meaning of grit.