Camilo Brokaw, the head of the group and a self-described “Urban Tarzan,” said the group challenges the mainstream thought process concerning walls.
“We put up all these walls, literally and figuratively in our culture, and what parkour does is it gives a chance to push upon those walls,” Brokaw said. “To see where those boundaries actually are — for yourself and for your environment. And that as a form of self expression and exploration is what holds people to it.”
Sunday, March 7
Today is a beginner’s day. On the northwest end of Johnson Field, hesitant newbies stand stiffly while the accomplished parkour participants clad in loose pants and tank tops warm up with back and front flips.
Brokaw said people are often drawn to the sport based on the stunts seen in movies or YouTube videos. The purpose of today’s session is to help new runners understand the world of parkour.
“I think philosophically, what parkour allows for, and sometimes it takes years for people to start to realize this, is it is a freedom,” he said while watching others flip. “And it’s a freedom we kind of outgrow when we get older. When you’re a kid you have to be told to not climb on that, don’t jump off of that. You’re not even being a daredevil. You’re exploring your surroundings, you’re exploring your world, and at some point it becomes socially frowned upon to pursue that. What we do in parkour is we just try to remember.”
Around 10 a.m., they decide it’s time to go and sprint down an alley between Johnson Center and the Olympic Pool. They transcend flights of stairs in a single lunge and leap over railings with hardly more than a glance. The group arrives at the plaza between Johnson Gym and Popejoy, where it splits up based upon experience. Brokaw commands a group of new runners jumping up and down on a concrete pillar, another practices leaping from the wall surrounding the Student Health Center to the pavilion below, and another flips across an out-of-sight stairwell attached to the gym.
Occasionally, someone misses a jump and lands hard on his feet, or another might botch a flip attempt in midair. An extreme case results in one of the runners landing on his butt after failing to clear a gap. The group seems to take these injuries in stride, always asking if the injured runner was alright but quickly returning to their own flips and leaps.
Nate Moore, a former gymnast and current stunt man for such films as “Transformers” and the most recent “Terminator,” embodies the destructive nature of the sport.
“I got a concussion and then a paramedic missed my vein and popped the blood apparently,” he said while motioning to a swollen purple bruise along his left forearm.
He then points to a long, faded scar along the back of his neck.
“And this one was a broken neck,” he said.
Despite the injuries, Moore cannot stay away from the sport.
“Once you get hurt, you’re like, ‘Aww why am I doing this?’ And then you get back up and you can’t wait to start up again,” he said, before returning to launching over walls.
The rest of the runners appear in better shape. No scars cover their arms or legs, although some might sit out to prevent further injury. Brokaw said the experience is different for everyone.
“I know people who do parkour for four or five years and never get hurt,” he said. “I have never gotten hurt as badly or as many times as Nate has, and I have been doing parkour more than three times as long. It really depends on who you are and your personality. Some people are going to be daredevils. You’re also going to get people for whom it’s not about that. They’re doing parkour for the movement, and with those people you’re not as likely to get hurt as someone who’s always pushing themselves for bigger and better things.”
As the day passes, passersby stop and watch the group running along rails or up trees. The onlookers gawk for about 10 minutes and then walk on. The group seems to feed on the attention. The flips, while not more extravagant, have more precision, the tucks tighter and the jumps higher.
Parkour runner Kenny Sullivan said the crowd adds to the performance.
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“Most people express it as art,” Sullivan said. “It’s just the way they do things. I guess spectators, when they see it — it’s just like when you’re a kid going to the circus. You see something, it amazes you and you film it. The people doing it, they just love doing it. It’s not really a showboating thing. A crowd gets you hyped, so you’re just like, ‘I can do this, I can do that. I like being known and showing that I have skill.’”
Brokaw said the sport is not about showmanship, but about seeing the world in a different light.
“You can be a daredevil, but after you get your first injury — I have seen so many people quit,” he said. “If it’s just about doing the big stunts, it’s not going to keep you in it. The people who stick with this sport are people who realize, ‘Wow, I don’t see the world in the same way anymore. I see everything as a possibility.’”
*UNM parkour
Northwest corner of Johnson Field
April 4
11 a.m.
Free *
