Know your Gifts

A Parkour Parenting Story

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My 13-year-old son, Seabass, is participating in a parkour competition today. To cheer Seabass on, I’m going to tell a story about his first parkour competition. It is a story for Seabass, but it is a story for all of us. It is about trusting yourself and valuing your gifts rather than comparing yourself to others.

Parkour is a sport, and it is also an art form. It consists of using your body to get from point A to point B in the fastest way possible by jumping, running, rolling, climbing etc.

Seabass at age 7 in a homemade Spiderman costume

When Seabass was little, he would wear his Spiderman costume all over Spokane, climbing up the sides of buildings and statues, running, jumping and pretending to shoot webs. When he got a little older, he lost the costume, but he kept climbing and jumping all over the city. He taught himself to backflip on our bed, and then moved a thin foam mattress outside to keep practicing. He was determined, and eventually he learned to backflip on the ground.

Here’s a video of Seabass landing a backflip at age nine. My favorite part of the video is his expression of joy at the end. I’m so happy he has found a passion that brings him this much joy. Everyone should have that.

When it became clear parkour wasn’t just a passing hobby, we bought Seabass a trampoline, which he and Dan painstakingly put together in one night. Several years ago, when a windstorm transported our trampoline across the yard, twisting and bending the metal in the process and rendering the trampoline even more hazardous than your average trampoline, we bought Seabass another trampoline, which he and Dan put together again, less painstakingly this time.

In the summer of 2022, at age 12, Seabass had his first parkour competition. While he had been practicing parkour for several years, this was his first competition, and he had been looking forward to it all summer. Unfortunately, the week before the competition, he developed a mysterious rash, which the dermatologist diagnosed as eczema, but I’m pretty sure was a nasty case of poison ivy. On the morning of the competition, Seabass wasn’t sure he wanted to compete. He was slightly drowsy from the antihistamine, and his abdomen was swollen from his rash. To be clear, I should say he decided he would not compete.

In parenting, the line between pushing and encouragement is a fine one. It is sometimes difficult to determine when you should encourage your child to step outside of their comfort zone and when you should back off and let them listen to themselves and their bodies. I want my kids to learn to listen to themselves, but there are times when our doubts speak louder than our hearts, and at these times, we need to learn to hush these doubts so that we can hear our heart. This felt like such a time, so I encouraged him to participate even though he wasn’t feeling at his best.

The competition was being held outside at a park. There were two main events, a speed race and a stick competition. In the stick competition, participants have to “stick” a jump, meaning that they have to land a jump of their choice with both feet and remain balanced for at least three seconds. Seabass, a sixth grader at the time, was matched against two high school boys. Seabass is not tall for his age. In addition to parkour, he loves basketball, and I recently discovered a google search on my phone where he asked, “How tall was Kyrie (Irving) at 13?” His search led to an article on NBA players who had relatively short parents, which gave me a good laugh. Seabass has relatively short parents. At 13, Kyrie had at least eight inches on Seabass, and at his first competition, Seabass’ two competitors both had a good foot on him.

The stick competition took place in an outdoor amphitheater. There were several rows of wooden seats along with logs of varying sizes. Seabass knows a variety of front flips, back flips, side flips and folds, but in this competition, the rules forbid him from using any of those tricks. The taller of his two competitors jumped first. Seabass’ opponent appeared lanky, but he moved like a gazelle, jumping over two rows of seats, traversing a distance of about eight feet, and landing on his feet gracefully. Seabass assessed the situation and decided he could not land the jump safely, so he was assigned a strike. The other boy in the competition tried the jump but was unable to land it, so he too was assigned a strike.

It was then Seabass’ turn to choose a jump to stick. If I was in Seabass’ position, I would have taken a moment to feel sorry for myself for the tricks up my sleeve that I couldn’t perform and for the significant height difference between my opponents and I, but Seabass did none of that. He didn’t focus on his limitations. Instead, he thought about what he could do. He intensely scouted out his surroundings. He intended to use his height to his advantage just as the other boys had. He was looking for the smallest possible place to land his jump. He chose a tiny log and made sure it was secure, and then he jumped. He landed the jump perfectly. The log was just big enough for his feet. His competitors tried, but neither of them could land the jump he set up. Their feet were too big. They were both assigned strikes.

Seabass didn’t win the competition, but he came close. It wasn’t an easy win for the gazelle-like victor. Seabass did win a well-earned award for best stick that day. His title came with an adorable hand-crafted trophy of a stick. My reward came after the competition when Seabass thanked me for encouraging him to participate. I told him how proud I was of him, not for winning but for participating when his doubts and fears were trying to get the best of him. I told him he should feel good because when it came down to it, he listened to himself. He trusted himself. I thanked him for reminding me of the importance of knowing our gifts and accepting ourselves for who we are, for reminding me that we always have a choice to focus on what we can do rather than what we can’t.

I would love to continue this conversation in the comments. What sticks with you today? What is a passion that brings you joy? How do you quiet your doubts when they get loud?

Here’s the heart to click if this story sticks with you.