Micah Jennings

1.16.05 Sunday [guilt trip]

Ben and Aaron have lately been talking of nothing but organizing a jam. It’s supposedly for the Jump London newcomers, to “acquaint them with the finer aspects” of parkour. To me, this is crap. I say give them a backpack and a map and tell them to raise $1k before dawn. That’s how you learn parkour—by applying it in real life.

But my roommates seem to see it differently. I read something they’d typed up on it for the Urban Freeflow forums. All this nonsense about philosophy and safety. Parkour will never be safe. That’s where the adrenaline comes from! I can’t understand these people.

In the end, I’m the one keeping parkour alive. I’m the one that TRULY experiences it as a way of life. They haven’t scratched the surface.

Ben asked if I wanted to join in on the jam.
“It’ll be fun, Micah. Just thing of all the new ones that will be learning. We’re like the forefathers of parkour here.”
It took everything I had not to laugh in his face.
“Ben, I just don’t see the practicality of it all. What’s the point?”
“Can you remember, Micah, what drew you to parkour in the first place?”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve changed.”
”Parkour hasn’t. It’s still there, offering freedom in an environment of restraint.”
His comment caught me off guard. I had to admit, it was poetically truthful. I often reflected on a similar sentiment as I ran from police across the skyline, losing them on the streets far below. Parkour had given me wings: I felt invincible.
“That may be true, Ben, but right now someone else’s freedom matters more to me.” The comment must’ve had a great impact on him, because he unexpectedly lowered his head in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Micah, I totally forgot about her,” he said quieter, gentle tone. The words were whispered genuinely, and suddenly I saw him in a new light.

For all his naivety and blind passion for life, he had a deeper, thoughtful side as well. I felt a surprising surge of pride for him once being my friend, and wondered what had gone wrong between us. Was it me, after all? As I watched him turn dejectedly from me, I quietly offered:

“Don’t worry about it, Ben. You didn’t mean it.”

He smiled weakly, nodded, and walked off.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 1:06 AM