ROOFTOP JUMPING  |  URBAN SPELUNKING  |  BACKYARD WRESTLING

Illustration: Thomas Pitilli

Rooftop jumping

View extreme photos of rooftop jumping

I’m being pursued on a rooftop high above the New York streets. To escape my enemies, I have to leap across urban canyons using the skills I honed while training with ninjas and the CIA. Okay, so that didn’t exactly happen. But ever sinceI read my first Daredevil comic book, it’s been my fantasy to use city rooftops for adrenaline-fueled transportation. Could I pull it off in real life?

I start my research at the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Company (superherosupplies.com), where I try on capes, examine utility belts and read the labels on various super serums. Sadly, the store stopped offering grappling hooks last year. I’ll have to forget Batman and channel Jason Bourne.

Oasis, one of the founders of New York Parkour (nyparkour.com), explains that “training and safety are most important.” The French-born practice of parkour, which translates roughly as “to run over or through,” is a mix of martial arts, gymnastics and strength training. Oasis suggests a daily beginner’s training regimen that I am in no way ready to complete (how many calf raises do you expect me to do?). If I’m dumb enough to try this sans preparation, he says, I should at least “do it safely at ground level before heading to a rooftop.” Fine. In my apartment, I clear six feet with a short running start, while visions of Trinity escaping from the cops in The Matrix loop in my mind.

I ask a police officer on bike patrol for his opinion, since they chase people across rooftops all the time. Or don’t. “I’d radio ground units about the location,” he says, “and then make a second call to the coroner, because any idiot who’d do that is going to get himself killed.” Okay, now I’m scared.

For support, I enlist my friend Ken, the only guy I know reckless enough to jump with me (he bikes wearing headphones and no helmet in rush-hour traffic). He offers his Manhattan rooftop as a starting point because it has three jumps in a row, ranging from four to six feet across (after which is a high-rise).

Between each building is nothing but a straight drop five floors down. That’s a looong fall. But I can practically step over the first opening with my long legs (I’m 6'4")—perfect for practicing. I run, I spring, I clear it. Easy. I just can’t look down. After a few more practices, I feel ready to tackle the rest. I don running shoes, utility gloves and my Daredevil T-shirt. Suddenly, panic takes over—how will I explain this to my mom? I shake it off and run up to the first ledge, plant and jump. That’s one. The second is harder: The distance is wider and the ledges are on different levels. As I make my approach I think, Oh God, this is a really bad idea. I need to get more air, but…I clear it. The third hurdle is not as risky; I regain my confidence just before I take the final leap. Over it…and done! I’m exhilarated. And relieved. As the adrenaline subsides, I think about what a terribly stupid idea this was. Almost as stupid as what I’m about to do. I pull out my phone and make a call. “Hey, Mom, remember when I was a kid and we watched reruns of Starsky & Hutch?”—Adam Logan Fulrath

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