For those of you who are not aware Naoki is a Japanese practioner who has spent a great deal of time training both here in London with pk gen and also in France with majestic force as well as everywhere and anywhere else he finds himself. As I’m sure most of you reading this will already be aware of the situation he faces himself in I won’t go into too much detail here suffice to say he faces some challenging times ahead but I am completely confident that he will more than rise to surpass them as that is the kind of person he is. Without a doubt one of the friendliest and nicest guys I have had the pleasure of meeting as well as a great tracuer.

But for anyone who does not know I ask that you check out (http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=125726156594) and lend you support. It means so much to him and is a great comfort to know that he is in the thoughts of so many people who wish him a speedy recovery. Even if you don’t know him personally or have never met him before I ask that you show him your support during this time! Already the response from the community has been brilliant and it’s a real comfort to know and be a part of such a good and strong spirit, which is not just here for him but here for us all!

So it seems the weekend class on a Sunday has been a great success so far with the class numbers growing by the week and with a slightly longer class of two hours, it gives us plenty of time to train and kick start our Sundays with a healthy dose of Parkour. Already we've completed the cycle of locations and this coming Sunday we're heading back to Earlsfield for more of the same!

With an emphasis on improving fitness and basic techniques but aimed at all levels, the weekend class is a great opportunity to train if you find yourself too busy in the week with work or educational commitments. Veterans and beginners, boys and girls alike are welcome and will be challenged respectively.

Last Sunday saw us training at a park near Bethnal Green tube station and as usual we started the morning with a warm up and a 15-20 minute run.

Next up we worked on a route consisting first of a tricky little jump, landing with either one foot or two, followed by some balance and a precision down to a lower wall. After Andy and I were sure everyone had improved and had helped those who needed some guidance, we decided to move on to some off-ground traversing challenges and climbing drills.

With forearms burning we moved immediately on to training some wall runs, where those who were new to Parkour had a chance to work on the technique and the others were encouraged to improve their speed and control throughout the motions. Training techniques like this is always more interesting after the same muscles have been worked beforehand and this instance was no different.

With arms growing tired we switched to some plyometric leg training in the form of dynamic jumps over a series of hurdles. With 6-7 hurdles in a row, those who had good timing could jump over one and immediately bounce straight over the next, continuing until the end. Drills like this are a great way to build leg power and develop timing.

Finally we moved on to some lumbar exercises with two rails before stretching and cooling off in the Sunday afternoon sunshine.

Thanks to all who came along and continue to make Sunday mornings worth waking up for!

See you all at the next class.

Residential housing has often been experimental, and mistakes were made during the 60s and 70s as cities expanded rapidly and populations grew, becoming increasingly dense. What was once regarded as visionary is, a few decades later, regarded as an unpractical eyesore that compounds society’s ills. Many were hastily constructed – some even collapsed – and it’s ith hindsight that the disadvantages of these Le Corbusier-inspired housing projects are fully understood.

A bit of Googling will teach you that the Aylesbury and Heygate estates at Elephant and Castle are due for demolition, and have been since 2004. A huge regeneration project has been dogged by seemingly endless delays and has created something quite surreal: near emptiness.

There are a handful of enormous blocks, each up to eleven storeys in height, each with a mere handful of occupants. For the most part, residents have been relocated (more than a thousand), but this is inevitably a problematic process; some have no desire to move, some refuse the suitability of their new homes, some claim to have been harassed and intimidated by the team attempting to rehouse them

Being virtually empty, there is no self-policing through the vigilance of its own residents. As a result, patrols are sent around in an attempt to keep gangs, drug addicts, alcoholics and the homeless at bay. A team of litter pickers visit daily, collecting the rubbish left behind by the random collection of visitors and the occasional resident dumping unwanted, bulky belongings as they move elsewhere.

Metal panels cover every empty flat, and the floors that are completely empty are sealed off with more metal fencing, keeping squatters out. (London is a haven for squatters due to some strange quirks in English law.) Each piece of metal is welded into place to prevent it from being unbolted and stolen. The expense must be phenomenal.

For Parkour practitioners wishing to train there, it’s quite peaceful, if a little strange. A few remaining residents can be found passing by and for them, Parkour is a familiar sight, to the point that local children create miniature versions of the movements amongst the walkways.

This gallery of images is selected from what I took during a morning spent wandering around the estate. There are a couple of captions giving a little more information. If you’re interested in finding out more, I suggest visiting:

http://livefromtheheygate.blogspot.com/
http://www.elephantandcastle.org.uk/

When the demolition will finally take place is anyone’s guess, but if you want to visit one of London’s best training locations, it might be an idea to do it sooner rather than later.

In 2008 I had been training with Parkour Generations for a few years at the academy and had naively felt comfortable enough in my abilities to believe that I was at a point in my parkour career to be able to pass my experience and knowledge on to others through teaching and coaching. Obviously I had been taught by Forrest and Dan as well as many of the others in the team and seen how they conduct the classes, so I'm sure I have the ability to do it, right? Hmmm....

I remember my first few classes quite vividly. One word. Disasters. I had suddenly entered a whole new realm of parkour and teaching. All of the training that I had done for myself was a fraction of the experience and understanding I needed to be able to teach it. So many questions had instantaneously entered my brain... The most simplest of things had now become the most complex! For instance... A step vault. Can I accurately explain every aspect of the mechanics behind the step vault? Do I know why we do it that way? Why not with the other foot? Other hand? Which foot do we lead with? Which foot do we land with? Where do the hips have to be? How do I teach a ten year old this? How do I capture the attention of a ten year old to be motivated to do this? How do I break this down for someone with little strength and experience? How do I progress, streamline and offer tips on the same technique to veteran traceurs to help them improve? What's the most likely place people will fall? Where do I stand to spot them? How do I get an entire group, of different abilities, to do this? How do I organise this? How do I make sure they all understand the correct way to do this? What must they watch out for? What are common mistakes? How do I deal with someone who just doesn't understand? What the hell is going on!?!?

Oh dear... I know nothing. My respect for the entire team had suddenly been multiplied by a thousand in a matter of about twenty seconds. I now understood the skill and experience it takes to teach an Academy class of fifty people while answering any questions and queries, reacting to different situations, ensuring everyone is safe, gaining maximum potential out of everyone, allowing everyone to have fun and keeping the classes upbeat and enjoyable!

Through the following year, along with the rest of the team, I have, on a daily basis, been put into many different and varied teaching scenarios which have tested all aspects of my parkour and teaching abilities. Some have gone better than others, but all of these situations have taught me more than I had ever hoped about myself, the discipline and my colleagues. Now I am beginning to feel more comfortable with teaching, but know I still have an eternity of learning to do.

The initial fears and frustrations have now faded away but the simple fact is that the more I teach, the more I learn and the more I learn, the more there is to be learnt. Being someone who thrives on knowledge, I guess this is a pretty good situation to be in. I'm just glad that I am in an environment that allows me to learn in the correct way.

There are a million aspects to comprehend and I think it is imperative to have the physical fundamentals, spirit and ethos firmly cemented into your subconscious by spending time with those with the experience to make sure you are on the right path... otherwise, there is just too much that can be skewed, misinterpreted and misunderstood. For these reasons I'm glad that the new A.D.A.P.T qualification is on its way. It's something that will give developing traceurs/traceuses and athletes around the world the option to learn how to TEACH properly and ensure that parkour, as a discipline, is advanced further in the best way possible for all of us as a community. This, I completely believe, is a great thing.

As for me, I'm just excited to find out what we're all going to learn at class tomorrow. :)

Who can jump the furthest? Who can run the fastest or climb the highest? Who can face the most danger? Who can do the most twists in a somersault? How could we get to a place in our minds where any of these things matter to us? Arbitrary things, all of them: quick to come and quicker to go; easily gained or lost, easily learned or forgotten; affected by the most random and trivial of things, such as lever length, genetics, training, tendon and ligament position, anatomy, injury, predisposition, substances, drugs, nurture, nature, anything! Meaningless. So where is the meaning? What gives our movement meaning?

In a few score years you will be gone. A few more decades after that the walls and gaps you jump will be gone too. Fast forward a few millennia and the very rock and stone it all rested upon will be altered, changed, and – eventually – gone too. Enough time and the planet itself will be stardust again, swallowed by a red giant. No records will stand then, no medals or points, not even the memory of those things. Transient, to be sure. Heraclitus said it best, ‘Everything flows; nothing remains’. So what does it matter that you can jump 11 feet rather than 10? Is it just ‘to be better’, is it our nature to want to improve for improvement’s sake? Is it that we must constantly prove ourselves to ourselves? Does it all come down to our conditioning, the need to compare and compete both within and without ourselves?

I hope not.

I think not.

What matters, surely, is us. What gives it all meaning, is us.
The temporal nature of things does not render them meaningless, not at all – quite the opposite. It is the very fact that all things are transient that bestows upon those things the potential for ultimate meaning – because that thing, that jump, that moment is unique and unrepeatable: much like us. So it really does matter, quite a lot, what you do with that moment! It is us who give meaning to the moments and the actions, both our intentions for and our actual experience of them, and each moment will be nothing more nor less than what we make of it. So if you do this jump simply in order to impress others, for example, or to beat your rival in a contest, and that is your motivation, that is your goal, your desire, then that moment’s or action’s meaning is no more than that: a flash of primal ego, driven by a no-doubt genetically-fuelled will to power. And where is the meaning in that? Is that really the best we can do?

But infuse that same moment with a will to understand who you are, through challenge, through adversity, through movement, and instantly that same arbitrary jump becomes filled with meaning, with power and substance. It will resonate in you, and throughout your life, and no doubt long after your body is dust. It means something.

In the end, the movements don’t matter. Truthfully, the art doesn’t matter – you could experience this in any action, in gardening, or fighting, or the study of quantum physics: what matters is you who practice the art, for you are what gives it meaning in any and every moment. So what does it mean, ‘to be strong’? Why is being strong better than being weak? Is it at all? Or is the process of becoming strong just a vehicle, a path for us to focus our own understanding of ourselves, our world, our lives, and our place in the order of things? And if so, does it then follow that the only real ‘success’ can be found through edging closer to that understanding, that indeed all knowledge is only self-knowledge?

In this case, a traceur’s true test is not in how far he can jump, or how quickly he can move, or how many muscle-ups he can complete, or even in his level of ability: but rather it is in what he finds in the art – what he finds in himself.