Balance and longevity: what standing on one leg says about how you age

If you could run one 10-second test that predicts your risk of dying over the next seven years — no blood draw, no lab, no wearable — you’d probably want to know your result. Turns out it exists, and you can do it right now in your kitchen: stand on one leg.

I know. It sounds like something off a wellness Instagram carousel, the kind with a sunset and a font that’s trying too hard. But the evidence behind single-leg balance is genuinely solid, and it’s some of the most quietly alarming research I’ve read all year. Balance isn’t a party trick. It’s a whole-body status report.

The standing on one leg test: how long should you be able to hold it?

Right, so — the numbers you came for, before any of the science. There are two of them, and they do quite different jobs.

The first is the pass mark. The validated version of the one leg stand test uses a single threshold: 10 seconds, unsupported, eyes open. Failing that in your 50s, 60s or 70s is the warning sign the whole body of research is built on — I’ll get to the study that established it in a moment.

The second is your age-adjusted number: how long you can actually hold it, which is the bit worth tracking month to month. Below are eyes-open averages from Richard Bohannon’s 1984 balance study in Physical Therapy, which timed single-leg stands across every decade from the 20s to the 70s. One important caveat before you read it: that study stopped the clock at 30 seconds, so the top rows are pressed against the ceiling of the test rather than the limit of the people taking it.

Read those top rows carefully. Because the test was capped at 30 seconds, “about 30 seconds” for the 20s-40s means most people simply ran out the clock — it is a pass rate, not a measurement, and it tells you nothing about how much longer they could have gone. The 60s and 70s figures sit well below the cap, so those are real. What you can honestly conclude is that most people reliably reach the 30-second cap until around 60 and drop off measurably after; you cannot conclude that nothing changes before then. The earlier decline is real, but it shows up in the eyes-closed version, which is a separate and considerably more humbling test; the step-by-step protocol for both is further down.

And treat those as population averages, not targets. Ten seconds is the floor. Beyond that, the number that matters is your own — and whether it’s going up or down when you retest next month.

What balance actually is

Here’s the bit that surprised me. Standing still on one leg looks like nothing — you’re just… standing there. But underneath, it’s one of the most demanding integration tasks your body performs. To stay upright on a single foot, your nervous system has to continuously fuse three streams of information and act on them within milliseconds:

• Vision — your eyes tell you where you are relative to the world.
• The vestibular system — the fluid-filled canals in your inner ear that sense head position and acceleration.
• Proprioception — thousands of sensors in your joints, tendons and muscles reporting exactly where each body part is in space.

Your brain blends all three, spots that you’re tipping a millimetre to the left, and fires the right muscles — ankle, hip, core — to correct it before you’d ever notice. Then it does that again. And again. Dozens of times a second.

So balance isn’t a single thing you can point to. It’s the output of a lot of separate systems working together: sensory input, neural processing, reaction time, and muscular strength. When any one of them degrades — the inner ear, the nerves, the muscles, the reflexes — your balance quietly gets worse. Which is exactly why it turns out to be such a good summary measure of how you’re ageing. It’s hard to fake a system that depends on everything.

The 10-second test that made everyone nervous

In 2022, a team led by Claudio Gil Araújo published a study in the British Journal of Sports Medicine that got a lot of attention, and deservedly so. They followed roughly 1,700 adults aged 51 to 75 for a median of about seven years. At the start, each person attempted a simple task: stand on one leg, unsupported, for 10 seconds.

About one in five couldn’t do it.

Over the follow-up period, the people who’d failed the 10-second test had an 84% higher risk of death from any cause compared with those who passed — and that gap held up after adjusting for age, sex, BMI, and pre-existing conditions like heart disease and diabetes. In other words, the test wasn’t just picking up “these people are older and sicker.” It was carrying independent predictive weight of its own.

That’s a striking result for something so mundane. And it doesn’t stand alone. A large 2010 meta-analysis by Rachel Cooper and colleagues in the BMJ, pooling data across dozens of studies, found that objectively measured physical capability — grip strength, walking speed, chair-rise time, and standing balance — all predicted mortality. People in the poorest-balance groups consistently had higher death rates than those with the best balance. Balance kept showing up alongside the other functional markers longevity researchers care about, like grip strength.

Why standing on one leg predicts anything at all

The obvious question: why on earth would a balance test predict death? You don’t usually die of poor balance.

Two reasons, and they’re both worth understanding.

First, balance is an integrated systems marker. As I said above, it depends on your nervous system, your muscles, your inner ear and your reflexes all functioning together. When your balance is deteriorating faster than the calendar, it’s often a signal that several of those systems are declining at once — reduced muscle mass, slower nerve conduction, worsening proprioception. Poor balance is less a disease and more a smoke alarm for accelerated biological ageing. It’s the same logic behind why HRV or VO2 max predict mortality: they’re windows into the health of systems you can’t see directly.

Second — and more concrete — poor balance leads to falls, and falls kill people. The World Health Organization ranks falls as the second leading cause of unintentional-injury death globally, and older adults account for the overwhelming majority of fatal falls. A single fall in your 70s can mean a hip fracture, a hospital stay, weeks of immobility, muscle loss on top of muscle loss, and for a genuinely frightening proportion of people, a permanent loss of independence. The fracture itself often isn’t what’s fatal — it’s the cascade that follows. Balance is one of the most direct levers you have on that entire chain.

Balance declines earlier than you’d think

Here’s the mildly depressing part. Balance doesn’t wait until you’re old to start slipping — it just hides the early damage well. Eyes open, most people run out the 30-second clock until around 60, which hides whatever is happening underneath. Close your eyes and the decline is visible decades earlier, from your 40s and 50s, long before most people would consider themselves “at risk of falling.”

The eyes-closed version is where it gets humbling. With your eyes open, vision quietly does a lot of the work; you can be relying heavily on it without realising. Close your eyes, and you strip that crutch away, leaving your vestibular and proprioceptive systems to hold you up alone. Most people who can stand on one leg comfortably for a minute with their eyes open fall over within 10 to 15 seconds with their eyes shut. I tried it the first time thinking I’d be fine. I was not fine. Genuinely humbling, in the car-park-of-my-own-gym sense.

The good news — and it is genuinely good news — is that this decline is not a one-way street.

How to test yourself

You don’t need anything for this except a clear bit of floor and, ideally, a wall or chair within arm’s reach for the first few goes.

The 10-second test (eyes open), as used in the study:

1. Stand barefoot or in flat shoes on a firm, level surface.
2. Place the top of one foot against the back of the opposite calf, so you’re balancing on a single leg.
3. Keep your arms down by your sides and your gaze fixed on a point straight ahead.
4. Start timing. You’re aiming to hold the position, unsupported, for 10 seconds. Give yourself up to three attempts.

If you’re comfortably past 10 seconds — good, that’s the floor cleared. Now find your actual number and track it over time:

• Eyes open: how long can you hold each leg? Compare it against the age table near the top: most people reach the 30-second mark through their 40s and 50s (that study stopped the clock there, so it’s a pass mark rather than a limit), then roughly 22 seconds in your 60s and about 14 seconds in your 70s.
• Eyes closed (the honest version): stand near a wall, close your eyes, and time it. Anything past 20-30 seconds here is quite good actually.

Test both legs — asymmetry is common and worth noticing. And do it near something you can grab. The point is to measure your balance, not to test whether your kitchen tiles are as hard as they look.

How to actually train it

Balance is a skill, which means it responds to practice fast — often within a couple of weeks you’ll see your times climb. The nervous system is the thing adapting first, before any strength changes, which is why improvements come so quickly. This is the same principle behind functional testing like the sit-rise test in the mobility work: train the pattern, and the score moves.

Habit-stack the basics. The easiest way to train balance is to stop treating it as a workout. Stand on one leg while you brush your teeth. Do the other leg while the kettle boils. Balance on one foot while you’re waiting for the toaster. Two minutes a day, spread across things you’re already doing, adds up to a serious amount of practice.

Progress deliberately. Once single-leg standing is easy, make it harder in this rough order:

1. Eyes open, firm ground → eyes open, arms crossed (no counterbalancing).
2. Eyes closed on firm ground.
3. Eyes open on an unstable surface — a folded towel, a cushion, a balance pad.
4. Add movement: reach a hand to the floor and back up, or pass an object around your body while balancing.

Do the walking drills. Heel-to-toe (tandem) walking in a straight line, like a sobriety test you’re doing on purpose, trains dynamic balance — the kind you actually use when you trip over a kerb.

Consider tai chi or yoga. Both are genuinely well-evidenced, not just wellness-adjacent. A 2018 randomised trial by Fuzhong Li and colleagues in JAMA Internal Medicine found that a therapeutic tai chi programme reduced falls in older adults more effectively than a conventional multimodal exercise programme. I do a yoga class near Gärtnerplatz once a week, and the single-leg poses are the bit I’m secretly worst at — which tells me they’re the bit I need most.

Keep lifting. Balance without the muscle to act on it is only half the equation. The ankle, hip and core strength that executes those millisecond corrections comes from resistance training. Strong legs give your balance system something to work with.

And crucially: this works at any age. A 2019 Cochrane review by Catherine Sherrington and colleagues, pooling over a hundred trials, found that exercise reduced the rate of falls in community-dwelling older adults by about 23% — and that the programmes with the biggest effect were the ones that specifically challenged balance. Not general activity. Balance-specific work. The people improving in these trials were frequently in their 70s and 80s.

The mistakes people make

Assuming it’s an old-person problem. Balance training in your 40s and 50s is preventive maintenance, not rehab. The time to build the buffer is before you need it.

Only ever testing with eyes open. Vision hides a lot of decline. If you never close your eyes, you’ll think your balance is fine right up until the moment it isn’t.

Training balance once and calling it done. Like every other fitness marker, balance detrains. It’s a use-it-or-lose-it skill, which is precisely why the habit-stacking approach beats the occasional dedicated session — consistency is the whole game.

Chasing the fancy equipment. You do not need a wobble board, a Bosu ball or a balance app. You need a floor and a wall. The gear is optional; the practice is not.

Tracking it over time

The single most useful thing you can do is turn balance from a vague sense of “I’m probably fine” into an actual number you revisit. Time both legs, eyes open and eyes closed, once a month. Write it down. Watch the trend.

Fair warning, I’m biased — I work at Sarvita — but I’ll be honest here: the app doesn’t measure your balance for you. It tracks the biological-age biomarkers it can read reliably from your phone and watch, and balance isn’t one a phone in your pocket can capture (yet, anyway). What Sarvita does track are the fundamentals that underpin good balance — the strength and cardiovascular fitness that keep the whole system responsive. The one-leg test is the free, low-tech companion: 30 seconds a month, no hardware, and it tells you something no wearable currently can.

What this looks like in real life

Nobody needs a balance routine, with a capital R. What works is smaller and more boring than that. It’s standing on one leg while your coffee brews. It’s taking the stairs and noticing whether you still need the handrail. It’s a weekly yoga class where the tree pose quietly gets less wobbly over a few months. It’s testing yourself on the first of the month and being mildly competitive with your own past score.

The research is unusually clean on this one: balance predicts how you’re ageing, it declines earlier than you’d expect, and it responds to almost trivially small amounts of practice. For a longevity intervention that costs nothing and takes two minutes a day, that’s about as good as it gets.

So. Go stand on one leg. Close your eyes if you’re feeling brave. See what your number is — then see if you can nudge it up by next month. No pressure. But the flamingo test is quietly one of the best deals in longevity, and I’d hate for you to miss it.