Russian Parkour

Blane be announced, right on the Parkour Generations, and not on pinwc.com. The new text does not have the technical or training data, but rather as an essay on the theme «My training day» in London with a group of beginners treyserov. It is a pity that Chris throw his blog, though, perhaps the move to the capital of England, he had no time. Then why promise a regularly updated feed of your blog? Read:

The following takes place between 7:00am and 8:00am.
A familiar song is interrupting my conversation with a man who has no face. I linger for a while in some middle ground between dream and reality, wondering where I am and what day it is as I fumble for the snooze key on my phone.

The following takes place between 8:00am and 9:00am.
I'm showered and contain significantly more weetabix, oats and bananas than I did one hour ago. I find myself jogging past a church, the only person in sight wearing a smile as I weave between frowning commuters towards the tube station.

The following takes place between 9:00am and 10:00am.
I'm standing near to a pub that is more often than not occupied by men who particularly enjoy the company of other men. I'm still not certain why this has become the unnofficial meeting place for those about to add yet another crimson stamp upon the Vauxhall walls, but it's something I've never felt the need to question.

The following takes place between 10:00am and 11:00am.
I've been running for a while now. Sweat trickles down my face and all I can hear is a dozen pairs of worn shoes colliding with grass and asphalt in every direction around me. We started together and we will finish together, just as we always do.

The following takes place between 11:00am and 12:00pm.
Midday is about to greet us and I wonder if I've injured the ant that I've blown way off course as I exhale out of yet another press up. I'm probably hurting more than the ant actually. I've squatted, traversed, pushed, pulled and crawled my way through the last sixty minutes and my shouts of determination have blended with those of my friends to create a symphony, a chorus of pain.

The following takes place between 12:00pm and 1:00pm.
We're stretching, having recently done more muscle ups than any of us thought we were capable of, the arms no longer feel... well, anything. My heart is beginning its journey to a resting pace again and I look around to see tired but contented faces.

The following takes place between 1:00pm and 2:00pm.
Lunch is over and I'm upside down in a park, practicing handstands and balancing in the sun with an old friend.

The following takes place between 2:00pm and 3:00pm.
I'm on my own. Soon after a tube journey that greeted me with the usual looks of disinterest or curiosity at my dirty clothes and bleeding hands, I'm crouched on a wall trying to convince my body that it can reach the branch that teases me in the nearby tree. If I don't, there's a fair chance I'm going to get hurt since I'm high up and concrete is unforgiving at the best of times. But I will make it, I must make it. I've done a hundred jumps like this in the past, perhaps not at this height but the height is irrelevant if you make the jump. And I will make the jump.

The following takes place between 3:00pm and 5:00pm.
I'm on the last set of a series of jumps that I've been doing in quick succesion to build power in my legs. My arms are weak from a brief one-armed pullup test and I check my watch.

The following takes place between 7:00pm and 8:00pm.
I'm indoors, rotating my joints and loosening up once again along with thirty or so students. We prepare our bodies for what is to come for half an hour or so and then I position some obstacles in a half-improvised manner. As I watch the expressions of doubt turn to joy on a new practitioner's face, I realise that we never lose that feeling of pleasure in our success upon overcoming our fears. The relief on the man's face is a reflection of my own only a few hours ago as I caught the branch. Is this the most addictive part of our discipline? Is it the surpassing of our fears that brings us back time after time? I think about it a little more as the air in the room grows warmer still and the tired limbs attempt one last almighty effort.

The following takes place between 9:00pm and 10:00pm
Some of those around me might argue that the warm down would make a fairly good warm up. All at least would agree the stretching is a welcome relief. I shake hands, smile and say my goodbyes to old friends, new friends and strangers who I'm sure will grow to be friends in time. At last, the physical demands of today are over.

The following takes place all day, every day.
The Oyster card is at the bottom of my bag when the bus arrives.

The following takes place between 10:00pm and 11:00pm.
I find myself sitting down and eating. Checking emails and wishing I had more time to reply to some of them, I update my diary for the week once again before feeling the shower wash another day off my back. Blood, dirt, sweat and something unknown is dissapearing in to the dark abyss below me and I stand there a little longer than is necessary, allowing my muscles time to relax in the cool water.

The following takes place between 11:00pm and 12:00pm.
I turn off the light and try to get back to my bed without bashing my knee on something. I still haven't quite perfected the whole pitch-black navigation thing in this new room of mine but I'm getting there. I'm almost asleep before my head touches the pillow.

The following takes place between 7:00am and 8:00am.
A familiar song is interrupting my conversation with a man who has no face. I linger a while in some middle ground between my dream and reality and wonder where I am and what day it is, fumbling for the 'snooze' key on my phone...