LOOKING FOR A DIFFERENT WORKOUT? TAKE A SPIN ON A LOG
UT RecSports offers log rolling class; Austin Parks considering adding it to lineup.
Trotting atop a twirling log at an Austin swimming pool, I feel a little like Paul Bunyan, minus Babe the Blue Ox and the checkered shirt.
Technically, though, I’m no lumberjack (or Jane). I’m just checking out log rolling, the latest wacky sport to creep into mainstream recreation centers across the country.
Even in Texas, where cactus and thorn-covered mesquite trees outnumber tall pines and firs, fleet-footed athletes can spin their way through a brisk cardio workout that also hones core and leg muscles. Plus, a misstep means a dip in cool water, a welcome reward in this land of never-ending 100-degree days. So, how’d we get here? Log rolling traces its roots to the North American lumber industry, circa the late 1800s. Towering trees grew in remote areas in the northern United States, and workers used rivers as highways to transport them to sawmills. Those logs tended to jam en route, so crews tiptoed across them, dislodging the timber and sending it on its merry way.
As you might imagine, though, the logs didn’t always remain firmly in place. They spun like buttery cobs of corn, occasionally launching workers into the water. Out of necessity, workers learned to roll the logs, spinning them underfoot as they untangled the clogged riverways. Things got competitive, too, with lumber companies hosting contests to find the best log rollers.
The log drives wrapped up at the turn of the century, but the traditions surrounding them kept rolling right along. Fathers passed the skill to sons, and log rolling became a form of entertainment. Log rolling troupes hit the road, demonstrating their skills to gaping onlookers.
In the early days, log rollers used pine, fir or red cedar and wore spiked shoes so they wouldn’t fall as easily. That held the sport back. In the 1980s, people started tacking carpet to the logs to eliminate the need for spikes. Then, in 2012, a company called Key Log Rolling introduced a synthetic, easily transportable “log.”
In the last year or so, a couple of those $2,000 “logs” have arrived in Austin. The University of Texas RecSports department offers a three-week introductory class to its members. The Austin Parks and Recreation Department acquired a
log for staff team-building purposes and community events and is considering offering a class to the public. A handful of summer camps and parks departments around the state have hopped on the log rolling train, too.
This day, I’ve joined Christina Mihova, 20, and Cruz Lopez, 22, who teach log rolling at UT RecSports, for a spin on their log. They loaded the 65-pound hollow tube onto the roof of their vehicle, drove it to Westenfield Pool, dropped it in the drink and filled it with water. I’m contemplating the potential of log rolling as an Olympic sport while I watch it bob around.
Then it’s time for a demo. Mihova, who enthusiastically agreed when she learned that UT RecSports was looking for a log rolling instructor, holds the log steady as Lopez hops aboard, straddling the log briefly before slowly rising to the standing position. He begins stepping in place, Mihova releases her grip and the log starts to spin. Cruz gets a nice long ride before giving Mihova a chance to demonstrate her considerable skill.
Then it’s my turn. Holy rolling synthetic logs, this could get tricky.
I envision myself spinning wildly out of control, then landing, chinfirst, onto a rock-hard telephone pole. But this special log gives a little, thanks to a slightly rubbery outer layer. It’s also wearing a trio of bright yellow “fins,” which act as training wheels and slow the spinning down to give beginners like me a shot at staying aboard. I silently hope my slalom water-skiing skills will help with my balance as I grab the log and hoist myself onto it like I’m climbing onto the back of a bucking bronco.
“The biggest thing is form and balance — keeping a tight core and balancing yourself and being able to recognize how the log is moving,” Mihova says. “Chair pose (a yoga position) is what you’re looking for — head, shoulders and hips lined up.”
Most beginners start with three training fins on, then eliminate them one at a time as they grow more comfortable on the log. (Expect to spend your first one-hour session with all three fins attached.) The fun really starts when you add a second person to the log, which is how competitive log rolling is done. The first person to fall off loses.
“It gets faster and faster when the training wheels come off,” Mihova says.
After a few uneasy moments, I stand up, wobbling like a drunk person trying to walk a straight line. When I’m ready, Mihova and Lopez tell me to start moving my feet up and down, taking tiny steps. They let go of the ends of the log, and for six or seven glorious seconds, I’m log rolling.
For a moment, I’m impressed with my prowess. Then I lurch backward into the pool. My feet just can’t keep up with the twirling log. Your legs have to move like pistons to stick on the log for more than a few seconds.
“Imagine a treadmill going full speed and if you don’t keep up with it, you kind of slide off. That’s exactly how the log is,” Mihova says.
Indeed.
I try again, and again. Every time, I last a few seconds, then get spit off. The good news? I can feel my quad and core muscles working hard. And I love landing in the water on a hot summer day.
As for that career as a lumberjane, though, I think it’ll have to wait.