It's the latest, greatest, up-and-coming fitness craze. And therefore, my husband is TOTALLY obsessed with Parkour these days.
Have you heard of it?
Let me try to describe it to you, using my dear friends at Wikipedia:
"(English: the art of moving) is a non competitive physical discipline of French origin in which participants run along a route, attempting to negotiate obstacles in the most efficient way possible, as if moving in an emergency situation, using skills such as jumping and climbing, or the more specific parkour moves. The object is to get from one place to another using only the human body and the objects in the environment."
Need a visual? Here's the cast of The Office with a little Parkour fun for you:
So... that's what my husband is now going to take on to keep his P90X-completed physique in tip-top shape. I have already seen him run up a tree trunk (I'm dead serious), and a climbing rope is on his Christmas list.
I can honestly tell you that I do not understand this exercise trend at all. But I did have a moment of clarity about it all recently.
Drew and I were on a walk around the block, and I took notice that my four-year old son was parkour-ing (is that a word?) without even realizing it. Every obstacle in his path became an opportunity. Rock? Jump over it. Garden wall? Climb on top of it. Lawn? Do somersaults across it.
That's when it hit me. My husband doesn't want to try a new fitness craze at all. He just wants to recapture the instinctive nature he's had for the past thirty years.
And, in the immortal words of Jim Halpert, "If point A is delusion, and point B is the hospital", then my dear, sweet parkour practioner is headed in the right direction!