(This question is part of the “Story Time!” project.)
We didn’t know what we were doing but we did it with all of our hearts. Understanding technique, methodology, philosophy was piecing together forum posts in multiple languages, downloading obscure and infrequent videos, and doing our best to physically understand what makes this process possible. We jumped until we couldn’t, we walked tiptoe for miles, balanced on train tracks and visited athletic tracks in the middle of the night. We practiced our vaults, we made up progressions or dealt with the consequences. Things taught in a five minute interaction now took months, or years to hone. Our first handstands were barely a second, “Kong vaults” were three months of being afraid of hitting our knees, every jump was critiqued for silence, every crawl was further, faster than the last. We wandered, looking for possibilities, pushing boundaries in the city and in ourselves, hanging, climbing, sometimes bleeding, and sometimes painting our faces with car grease. We trained all night, we slept under bridges, the city became our teacher, our home, our challenge. I have never felt so alive, and I feel it again, every time I train.