e-Place Essay

When I train, when I move, when I flow, I block everything out. Everything goes, except the next move, the next path. The place I occupy is a figment in my mind, input by my sense to be manipulated in whatever manner I see fit. I’m talking about parkour, the physical discipline in which the goal is to move fluidly and gracefully over, around, across, and under a myriad of obstacles that could impede movement. On the outside it could look like the traceurs training in parkour may be causing trouble or acting childish, but beneath the implied antics there is a deep philosophy: be like water.

Many of the tracuers in Georgia agree there are two big Georgia hotspots: Athens on the east side, and Decatur right in the heart of the state, Metro Atlanta. We communicate through online forums, set a time, and all the traceurs meet near the church for which Church St. was named, and we make our way just a few hundred feet down the narrow road in front of the station to our first area, the Decatur MARTA Station.

Decatur is spectacular, there are shops and restaurants lined up near the station, all made of brick, and there are very large mosaics painted on the brick that add color to the already eclectic feel the town has. A handicap ramp runs up the left side right next to a short set of steps, and large stairways and planter beds meet tangent to the path further along. Bollards in the front prevent drivers from driving on to the station landing, as there is no curb there, but they serve another purpose while we are there. Only wide enough to support one foot at a time, we use them to practice balance by walking, or for some, running across them.

As I travel up the path moving slowly up the left side I can smell lunch 3 hours before we sit down to have it. Eclectic little shops and restaurants line the left side of this path, one of which, The Raging Burrito, is a place we have filled with groups of up to 20 on occasion. At the top, the view opens to reveal a wealth of things to do for both the layman and the traceur. The old courthouse sits stoically in the backdrop, with a gazebo built for small bands off to its left. Picnic tables rest a little closer with a few large trees nearby that are good for shade on the hot summer days, and good for climbing when we’re bored. Behind us is the top of the station we passed earlier. It has a large expanse of stone floor to act as a 2nd floor of sorts, although the only way into the main entrance is back around to the bottom.

We have usually warmed up by the time the group makes their way up the path, and at the top is one of the best places for helping new traceurs train and learn. Sure, parkour is an individual activity, but it’s being able to snap back into the group mindset that benefits the community. The more experienced guys help set up “spot drills” which is kind of like Simon Says, except with movement. Someone asks me to demonstrate a technique called the Kong Vault, so I get to be Simon. I approach the obstacle (in this case, a wide railing) with a smooth gait, and drop my feet apart as I get nearer, I roll through off my left followed by my right while extending my body skyward, my feet hit just barely above my head as my hands finally make contact with the rail, I press forward and down hard on the surface on the rail causing my body to right itself in the air. As my feet touch down, my knees are angled apart at around 60 degrees and I roll across my right shoulder and left hip to demonstrate that technique as well.

Everyone does the line a couple times with someone spotting the landings of the more difficult or dangerous techniques. The training isn’t Spartan by any means, there is a fair share of goofing off and playing around, on occasion we just wander around, which is definitely a great benefit to the overall group morale and it keeps people training. At my first group training in 2007, the “Jam of the Century”, I remember saying that, “only traceurs can come together from across the country to talk about science and technology together and also get hurt together the same day.

Another time we were wandering through Decatur with a group, and there was a fairly risky climb up a gate onto the second floor of a car parking garage. I climbed it and so did the (very) experienced local in our group, Max. We had just fallen victim to one of the foremost rules of parkour, don’t go from A to B if you can’t go from B to A the same way. The group left us as we wandered this parking garage (thinking they were coming up through the bottom). After they didn’t show up for a while and we were done exploring, Max noticed them on the top of an entirely different parking garage across a large pavilion and a street. I looked at Max and said, “A to B?” He nodded and we both took off. Down the ramps and through gaps and over railings until we got to ground level, we sprinted towards the road. Each one covered one side of the road and gave the other a signal that it was clear. Once across the road there was another wide opening of flat ground approaching the entrance of the other parking complex. We sprinted through it and then we split of. Max vaulted a low wall to continue from the bottom while I placed one foot high on the outside wall and sprung up to the second floor, my hands barely grasping the ledge. Up and over the steel cable fence, I saw Max sliding through a gap between levels. He started climbing up through the center so I followed suit. We climbed the narrow vertical corridor until we reached the rest of our comrades at the top.

That is where a traceur goes, anytime he trains anywhere. There is one place he stays even though he is constantly moving, inside his own mind. There may be a 20 foot fall on one side or the other, but that should not enter inside the traceur’s comfort zone. Foot and hand placement remain the same, whether on flat ground, scaling a vertical wall, or taking a large fall. We drill these movements into perfection so the only thing we have to think about is the quiet of our own consciousness.

The way we see things and the places we go are dynamic. Our mindset is the result of our training and discipline, and it is what allows us to adapt and evolve. Few sane people are comfortable knowing they’re a slip up away from serious injury, but it’s the tangible and intangible places we train that allow us this freedom. At the end of the day the training can be summed up in one question: “Was I free?”