Charles' Parkour Training Blog

A couple weeks ago I ran into an old friend of mine. While talking, he asked that I enter a contest he was hosting, to write an essay on my passion, and win $1,000.

This was my response:

Life is a blank canvas and you are the painter. The joy lies in the understanding that you get to decide what is painted.

Every situation is like this and you have a choice in how to respond. Ultimately, this is what parkour is about, learned and solidified by way of running, jumping, climbing, and willfully putting yourself into challenge. It is through this challenge that we develop and in a traceur’s world, challenge is the normal way of life. Be strong to be useful.

My name is Charles Moreland and I am a 23 year old working at the Rochester Institute of Technology. Four years ago, I found myself in college with no future, no direction, and no motivation. It wasn’t until I hit rock-bottom that I realized what truly mattered in life. Today I have three jobs I love (none of which I applied for) and a plethora of hobbies that continually shape and re-define me into who I am with each passing day. Just like Heinlein’s Lazarus Long, love is my passion for life and parkour is what helped me realize that.

For those of you that have not seen the internet sensation, or seen some otherwise crazy people jumping around town, parkour is a movement discipline designed to challenge yourself, physically and mentally, in all aspects of life. I don’t breed strong athlete’s; I’m not that vain. I breed strong community members. My compensation for what I do is the ability to watch someone evolve from an “I could never do this” personality, to an “anything is possible” personality. Strong muscles are useless without a strong personality and an insatiable desire for success.

I started Rochester Parkour in the Fall of 2007 with my roommate Zachary Cohn. We were just kids then and didn’t realize what we were doing. Before we knew it, Rochester Parkour was hosting one of the largest regular, weekly training jams in the nation. We take in anyone and everyone and have never charged a single dime. I teach youngsters how to feel alive again; I show them joy, through movement, that they cannot find in any video game. And through this joy, I get the added benefit of preventing yet another child from falling prey to weakness, disease, and illness. I show the elderly how to be children again, not just physically, but mentally. I teach young-adults, smack-dab in a world of complexity, simplicity and self-control.

My latest brain child is an outreach program to a group of under privileged youth in Rochester, titled “$5 or a 2×4.” Either you bring in $5 to cover the cost of the facility, or bring in a typical 2×4. Every week, I meet again with these kids and we take their 2×4′s and fabricate the very obstacles that they will then use to propel them into positive, life changing, super hero’s. We teach them a practical marketable skill and later show them their most valuable skill: their positive attitude. No amount of money could ever accurately capture the value in this process.

Interestingly, I’m not posting this blog entry because I need or require $1,000. I’m not even sure I’d know what to do with $1,000. I’m mostly posting this entry for Dr. Clyde Hull, an old instructor and friend of mine, whom I hope didn’t take my absence at the RIT taekwondo club personally as I focused all my time and effort into this passion of mine. Since 2007, I have donated hundreds of hours of my time to keep my product, sensational mental fortitude, as cheap and as attainable as unconditionally possible. Every cent taken in is somehow funneled back into the community, and sometimes not just limited to the Rochester Parkour community, but the community at large through our clean up projects and instructional workshops.

Given that, if I were to receive $1,000, I’d continue to funnel it through my already efficient system. Perhaps I could use the money to buy shoes for those members who can’t afford new ones every couple of months (parkour athlete’s have redefined what necessitates a quality shoe). Perhaps I could buy more supplies, fabricate more obstacles, or maybe even rent out my own dedicated facility. Perhaps, since I don’t really need $1,000, I could pass it down to the author of a comment who can write the best essay on why they DON’T need $1,000. Irony is hilarious and money is cheap and immaterial.

If nothing else, I hope that by reading my accounts you can start to ask yourself what you’ve challenged yourself to recently and why that challenge mattered. What is it that you suffer for?

Perhaps it’s just a phase. Perhaps it’s something more?

Regardless, it is impossible to completely think out a situation before it happens. Inevitably, you have to make the jump and adapt to whatever new situations are brought your way. Given that, in the past few months I’ve been attempting to make many new changes in my life, my work, and my passion. Some I’m happy with; others, not so much and I’m beginning to realize the mistakes in what I have done.

I’ve done a lot of reflection in the past few months attempting to interpret what factors are at play and they will slowly trickle their way here. I’m not at peace yet with my parkour and what it has become, but I feel like I’m on the right path now.

As one progresses down the path of a traceur, you develop what we call “parkour vision.” This sense, if you will, is basically the ability to scan the environment and “see” all the paths, moves, and potential shapes in that space. As you become more adept, your understanding of your capabilities comes to fruition and you can better compare your ability with the moves you see in the environment. Because of this, you can continually walk through a space and one day realize a move you had never seen before. I love this feeling because it continuously re-invigorates your love with a particular or familiar space.

Sometimes you recognize the move and do it. Sometimes, though, you really wish you hadn’t seen it. It’s like a rock climber noticing that new path up the boulder – you can’t ignore it, and until you accomplish it, it will sit there.

Frustrating as this may be, you should never get yourself down about these instances. One important step in a traceur’s journey is the ability to understand that today is not “that” day. You move on and keep doing what you do.

Inevitably, you will find yourself back at that particular space and it will be that day. This is your opportunity. This is the moment you don’t waste.

Yesterday was my day.

The move has sat there and lingered in my mind for the past year. Since I first saw it, I would return to High Falls and before doing anything, look at it and evaluate myself. If it didn’t feel right, I would continue with what I was doing and not look at it again.

It’s frustrating to find a move that is with-in your capabilities, but given certain contexts, becomes challenging. In this particular instance, the kong to precision – although not far – is “blind.” The wall is above belly height meaning you cannot see the ledge until you have already committed the speed to the kong.

“Am I nervous? Am I focused? Are the circumstances right?” I answer these questions truthfully and depending on the answers, make my move: do it or walk away, unashamed.

Some days you just feel it. Interesting that my day came during night time, when contrast and shadows play tricks with depth perception and cause you to lose focus. But there it was, and I didn’t waste it. I did that kong to precision over ten times that night – some with the security light, some without. No slips. No falls. No misses.

It was that day.

Kong to Precision at High Falls from Charles Moreland on Vimeo.