Last summer, on a drizzly Saturday, I found myself attempting to paddle out, pop up, and ride the waves—clumsily and uncertainly—inside a sunlit East Village apartment. It was as disorienting a fitness endeavor as I could imagine. “Starting out in surfing feels foreign,” remarks the genial Aaron Thouvenin, who co-founded Surfset NYC. This challenge involves an odd mix of concentration, core stability, quick leg work, and the kind of breathing in yoga. The constant wobbling is bizarrely nerve-wracking. But what danger is there when you’re balancing on a wooden board held in place by bungee cords and three Bosu balls? The sea is far away.
My true fear is the fall. I doubt I’ll ever luxuriate in vast waters for hours, waiting for my moment to glide from my belly to a push-up position and finally stabilize myself atop a slender surfboard. Yet, what I long for is the ability to stand securely on my left foot as confidently as on my right, to shed my fear of balancing postures in yoga sessions, and to ride the subway without gripping onto a pole.
And I’m not alone in this pursuit. Balance has become a popular focus in health and fitness, ranking alongside strength and flexibility as key indicators of wellness. The medical studies that fuel this interest mostly revolve around the treatment of ADHD and dyslexia (there’s a hypothesis, supported by some evidence, connecting issues with focus to poor balance, suggesting improvements in one might enhance the other) or the unglamorous subject of aging. Extensive studies have shown that middle-aged and older individuals who can’t balance on one leg for ten seconds or more face a higher risk of falling, experiencing cognitive decline, and a 2022 study indicates they are 84 percent more likely to die within seven years—yes, die—than their more stable counterparts. These alarming findings caught fire on social media, leading people to incorporate one-legged standing into everyday activities like tooth brushing or dishwashing, creating a new generation of flamingos striving to prevent frailty and memory loss (bonus points for doing a puzzle or learning a language while balancing and flossing; that’s the ultimate skill!). Have you seen YouTube videos of ballerinas balancing on spherical rubber balls? Have you followed advocates of proprioception (the ability to sense and move your body without visual confirmation) training blindfolded? Have you noticed slackline performers in parks, precariously teetering on straps tied between trees? There’s a growing fascination with watching individuals maintain their balance while the ground beneath them shifts.
Some interpret this obsession as a reaction to broader societal changes, suggesting it’s tough to maintain composure when the morning news is filled with chaos. I take issue with that perspective: I can be anxious about democracy’s decline and about losing my balance, and I’m certain these two fears are distinct and disproportionate. However, one trainer I consulted during a visit to Los Angeles—a cheerful Canadian named Olivia Spralja, who teaches Pilates, yoga, and HIIT in warm rooms in West Hollywood—views the pandemic as a catalyst for shifts in fitness culture: “Teaching during these unusual times has been an extraordinary journey, as people turn to you for support in new ways,” she explains. “It takes more when the world seems upside down, and what’s needed is something completely different. That’s tricky!” Spralja addresses my peculiar imbalances (my left hip has lagged behind my right for years) with a regimen of small, exact, repetitive cross-body movements: split lunges, bicycle crunches, and dead bugs—a core workout of raising arms and bent legs while lying on the ground, then lowering the opposite arm and leg simultaneously. For her, balance starts from the core: fortify your center, and the limbs will follow. She’s delightful, the little red weights adorable, and I’m sweating and shaking like a leaf. This is challenging.
Rectifying asymmetries is undeniably demanding, largely due to its roots in transient influences or years of poor posture, uneven habits, and general inattention. For a long time, I’ve been reminded of my imbalances weekly during yoga sessions, like the balancing stick at ID Hot Yoga in New York City. If I haven’t slept well, enjoyed a glass of wine the previous evening, or am just feeling stressed, my left leg tends to wobble uncontrollably—imagine a balancing rubber band. Tricia Donegan, co-owner of ID, recently suggested I transition to a hatha flow style for its rapid shifts—there’s “no time for overthinking” while moving between poses. “You need to master using both feet before trying to balance on one,” she amusingly quips. (Donegan was raised where balance was second nature, waterskiing with alternate legs and playing music with both hands. Take note, parents.)
