Leap of faith keeps parkour teacher moving forward

Josh Hill was riding his motorcycle to Tampa in pursuit of his security license when he was hit by a car at the intersection of Fruitville and Beneva roads.

It was March 11, 2015, about 7 a.m. Hill remained aware the entire time, even after the impact sent his ragdoll body more than 150 feet from the collision site. He felt the full impact of his shattered legs and other injuries.

“It was like a freight train ran over my femurs,” Hill said.

He fell into repetitive blackouts between fits of screaming. He remembers getting placed in a helicopter, which at the time he thought was an ambulance, then waking up in a hospital with a tube down his throat. Surgeons had already placed rods in his legs. Doctors told Hill he would probably lose his left foot.

That was a problem for Hill, beyond the way losing a foot is problematic for anyone. He was getting his security license for a side job to supplement his real passion of teaching and performing parkour, which is essentially getting from “point A” to “point B” in the fastest and most productive way.

That means jumps, flips and swings over objects, rolls under objects, and other movements of that ilk. Hill, a former professional skimboarder, was introduced to the discipline by former NFL linebacker Kamerion Wimbley, who competed alongside Hill in American Ninja Warrior in 2012.

“It’s not all scary flips and big jumps,” Hill cautioned. “It’s learning to use your body more efficiently. It gets you better at everything.”

Hill recalls the story of one of his clients, a man, around 75 years old. Hill was nervous when the man arrived. Parkour is physical, after all, and Hill did not want the man to get hurt. The man told Hill he was there to learn how to properly fall. He loved to ride his bike, the man said, but once he had fallen off his bike and onto his wrist, breaking it. Ever since, he was scared to ride, and he was hoping Hill’s class would eliminate that fear. Hill agreed, and gave him a lesson.

Hill didn’t hear from the man for two weeks, figuring he didn’t like the class, until he called back. The man was sore for a week and a half after the class, he told Hill, but it was worth it, because he found the confidence to ride his bike again.

Stories like this are why Hill teaches parkour. He used to hear them at his old facility, Sarasota Parkour. After his crash, his passion was in jeopardy. He didn’t lose his foot (though it required major skin grafts, and will require another surgery in the future), but medical bills racked up, even with help from the community.

Sarasota Parkour had to be shuttered. He was bedridden in the hospital for a month, and didn’t do any serious physical activity for five months after the crash. He took a job with a valet company as a key master, which required little standing. He asked his bosses if he could valet a few cars. The impact of going up and down stairs as a valet had Hill drenched in sweat. His cardio was weak. Slowly, it improved, and Hill said he felt physically ready to start training others again. Even though his skills are admittedly not where they used to be yet, he still knows proper technique.

With financial help from friend Alexandra Barcomb, whom Hill said has “literally become family,” Hill started Rad Parkour, at 6222 Clarity Court. It opened in February. The first few months were slow, Hill said, but the past few have been kinder. Rad Parkour has a website launching soon, but the facility still relies on word-of-mouth to get new customers for now. It’s bigger than Sarasota Parkour was, and has higher ceilings. When I stopped by the facility May 15, it was nearly 8 p.m., open gym, and the place was filled with young adults chatting and pushing their bodies to their limits.

How far would you follow your dreams if you encountered roadblocks as serious as the ones Hill did? I probably would have turned around, quite frankly, and chosen a different path. Hill didn’t, and that is something I greatly respect. No matter what is next in store for Hill and Rad Parkour, he’s already proven himself a winner by getting back on his feet — literally — and doing what he loves.