Exploring parkour in leaps and bounds

Five Otago Daily Times reporters have gritted their teeth and gone way beyond their comfort zone to bring back stories of fear and mortification. Today, dissatisfied with walking on footpaths, reporter Jono Edwards leaps into the world of parkour to find more direct ways of moving through town.

I have two main fears in my life.

One is public humiliation, the other is fracturing my nose on a metal railing.

Naturally then, immersing myself in the building-climbing world of parkour seemed like a good way to face anxieties.

The skill is developed from military obstacle training and incorporates other disciplines such as gymnastics.

Frenchman David Belle is considered the modern pioneer of the skill, which was popularised through videos in the 1990s and 2000s.

Dunedin’s Pro-Motion Freerunning and parkour coach Alex Pearson said initially the intent was to get from one point to another as "efficiently and creatively’’ as possible.

This means its practitioners can be seen running, climbing, swinging, vaulting, and jumping on walls, buildings and roofs.

It then evolved to include flips and other flourishes.

The main danger of injury came when people did not learn the basics, he said.

So I did.

My training started at the group’s coaching session in a warehouse-precinct gymnasium.

I warmed up with the team for about 30 minutes, became intimidated at the flawless front handsprings and dive rolls the others were executing, and relaxed again when I realised I was accidentally in the gymnastics class.

After going over to the parkour corner where I belonged, I started to develop an unreasonable confidence I would excel at the sport.

I like to think jumping from a thing on to another thing is one of my top five traits.

However, I only had two lessons to become a master, so there needed to be a quick progression from roly poly to front flip.

I first tried a half handstand; not too bad.

Flipping on to a mat; pretty easy.

Jumping from one vault to another; I am in my element.It turned out parkour was quite exhilarating and the teenager in me grew to like its anti-authority nature.

I imagined myself becoming a pickpocket avoiding police by flipping over rooftops, or just generally becoming a nuisance like the European hippies at the forefront of the sport.

The morning after my first training session I ached in muscles only swimmers and ballerinas use.

I went to my second a few weeks later.

It was then I realised parkour can be really hard.It turns out grabbing on to a bar, swinging a couple of meters, then catching another bar can pop your arm out of its socket quite easily.

But I liked to think I was improving, so I thought I was ready to face the urban playground.

My initial goal of scaling  First Church was blocked  due to both health and safety concerns and an enormous gap in ability.

Instead, I jumped on walls and benches outside  Forsyth Barr Stadium.

The ultimate aim was jumping a couple of metres from a bench and catching a wall, hooking the tops of my fingers on to the top, without touching the ground.

What followed was a series of failures.These weren’t the funny, painful bails that land you in a viral videos.

They were mediocre fumbles that left everyone disappointed and tested the patience of the video intern.

After a deep breath and one last try I leapt off the bench, put my feet in the right position, and clung on just right.

After a few more tricks, I was done and my parkour career was over.

In retrospect I think I will mostly get around using my tried and true one-foot-after-the-other strolling.

However, every time I walk past shoulder-height walls or scaffolding where the gap between bars is just right, I fantasise about jumping and swinging, deeply impressing all nearby pedestrians.

jono.edwards@odt.co.nz