Page 10 November 1979
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ATLANTA,
GA. JOGGLING DOWN PEACHTREE by Bill Giduz
Jogging
legs power a three-ball motor in front of my nose. Over and over it
turns in perfect, lubricated time to each stride.
"Joggling,"
as logic dictates the combination of jogging and juggling must be
called, harnesses the natural rhythm in a jogger's body for purposes of
juggling. Once the basic coordination of hands and feet has been
mastered, the steady beat of
It's
a jogging dance with a three-ball cast. The jogger choreographs balls to
bounce off the pavement, fly high in the air or It
takes a little practice at first. Because a jogger's arms pump outward,
beginning jogglers tend to throw balls too far
forward. However, a toss directly in front of the nose matches the
stride.
Once
achieved, the rhythm is automatic.
The
first time Dr. Steve Johnson, my roommate, felt the syncopation, he
exclaimed, "It's like riding a bicycle'" Like riding a
bicycle, once you know how to joggle you'll never forget!
I
picked up the habit in the summer of 1976 in Raleigh, N.C. when I began
practicing three-ball tricks daily after runs at the track. Exactly when
I first joggled the balls around the quarter-mile
Two
other IJA members, Dave Finnigan of Edmonds, Wash., and Bill Pallidino
of Fargo, N.D., say they joggle occasionally. An old IJA Newsletter
reports that Jon Hunn "juggled" 75 miles from Santa Fe to
Albequerque in 1976 in eight days. That's an impressive record for
distance devotees to shoot for!
Practicing
three or four days a week now, I constantly discover new aspects of the
sport. Because joggling is as dynamic as juggling, there are as many
tricks to do as there are versions of the three ball cascade. I do
passovers, passunders, Mill's Mess, bounces by the score and high and
low puts. I've recently picked up high one, two; and three ball flashes
to the point of not missing a jogging beat. Steve Johnson and I have
successfully passed balls jogging side-by-side and I've lately begun
jogging with pins instead of balls.
My
favorite throws are pavement bounces. Beginning by bouncing every third
ball off the road, I soon found that tossing every ball out of one hand
is no harder. Uphill, reaching for bounced balls is like pulling
yourself along on a string; the arms working with the legs toward the
top of the incline.
The
balls are never-boring jogging partners, providing constant
companionship and diversion on a long run. When not trying tricks, drops
are very infrequent. During a recent 6.2 mile race in Chapel Hill, N.C.,
I only dropped three times. In a steady cascade, the balls are like a
metronome, recording the beat of each next step--one step, one toss.
Cars
are my main concern. Dropping a ball into rush hour traffic is
humiliating and potentially dangerous. I'm stopped in my graceful
tracks, cringing to watch the hard rubber orb careening off fenders,
tires, curb and pavement. I've jogged a half-mile chasing a ball being
knocked up-traffic, caught madly in a river of metal instead of
peacefully in my hands.
People used to concern me too. But two Peachtree Road Races have erased my worry that some innocent jogger would step on a drop and break an ankle. Most enjoy the diversion of chasing drops and tossing them back. Joggling
16 miles one morning, I felt I proved that the only limit to distance
joggling is the jogger's physical endurance. Someday, someone will
joggle a marathon. Like anything else in this sports-crazed country,
some young person will push it to that 26.2 mile limit for the joy of
the act. It's the call of youth.
Someone
may run a sub-10 second 100 meter joggle some day also, but I don't find
the style very adaptable to high speed. A quick, low joggle can be
sustained while sprinting, but it's a straining, uneven rhythm. A
jogging pace of between seven and nine minutes per mile provides an even
beat for tricks.
The
thrill of establishing superlatives is an exciting part of any sport.
Many will be reported as more people joggle, but I've already
established an unofficial one in which I take great pride. It's the
first ever competitive joggling win, which I recorded in early September
when I beat out 45 neighbors in the 2.5 mile Lake Claire Run.
As
far as I can tell, though, I'm the only steady joggler in this whole
city of 1.7 million people. But because it lies directly in the path
that American sports tastes are following, I'm confident that others
will practice it.
There's
growing involvement in sports of fluid motion; sports like wind surfing,
skateboarding and rock climbing that depend on individual balance and
coordination on a given terrain. It's part of the democratization of
sport in this country. Everyone can sense delight in the rhythm of
movement without having to face the psychic consequences of the thrill
of victory or agony of defeat.
Joggling
and other sports mentioned are basically non-competitive and highly
challenging, providing individual reward in relation to individual
dedication. As the proliferation of recreational runners today discover
how quickly juggling can be learned, joggling should take its place
beside the many other new activities that are broadening the concept of
sports in America.
Some
have told me "No." They say joggling is too oddball, too
eccentric for the legions of dedicated jogging freaks. I think,
conversely, that the extra stimulation and excitement will eventually
attract many joggers to try. After all, it's better exercise, and that's
why everyone's pounding the pavement anyway.
The
combination of juggling and jogging is as natural as Newton's apple
falling from the tree. Their rythms are identical, their synthesis
dynamic. I find myself learning new joggles all |