Head over heels: Why this writer is obsessed with perfecting his handstand

If you were to look up ‘obsession’ in the dictionary, it would say something like this: “A compulsive, often unreasonable, preoccupation with a fixed idea or activity, often accompanied by symptoms of anxiety.”

Which doesn’t exactly describe my handstand practice, but it comes pretty close. 

If you’re a little vague about what precisely is a handstand, it’s when you balance upside down on your hands. It’s what Luke Skywalker does on Dagobah with Yoda perched on his foot. Except, technically, Darth’s son is doing a one-arm handstand, and I’ve not got an obsession for that. Yet. 

I am diligent in my practice. Every day, I clumsily kick myself up against the living room wall and hang there, feet touching the wall, blood rushing down to my face, my weak and spindly arms trembling with effort. Terrified that I may suddenly lose my balance and crash onto my head. 

If I stay up (or down, depending on your perspective) for longer than 12 seconds, that’s a good day. One that deserves a celebration on the scale of the Fourth of July fireworks. But usually, I’m done by the 10-second mark before I crash down with the same inelegance as when I kicked up. Then I do it again. And again. 

When I’m not working on a handstand, I’m thinking about it. I get anxious when I don’t do it every day. I visualise what it must be like to do it in the middle of the room, far away from the safety of the wall. 

Or I’m on YouTube training by groaning my way through Day Christensen’s insanely difficult Foundation Drills. 

In the handstand community – yes, that’s a thing – Day is a legend. She has over 50,000 hardcore followers on Instagram. Her handstands are awesome works of art. She can enter with a tuck-jump, a standing or sitting straddle lift, or a pike lift. And she can stay upside down for a long time, which in my world is anything longer than five seconds. 

It looks so easy when Day does her handstands. Except I know it’s not. I’ve been known to lie on the couch and watch her all day long, marvelling at the level of strength, control and balance that is required to do what she does. 

When Day came to Singapore in mid-August to give handstand workshops, it was as if Mariah, Oprah, Beyonce and Adele had all shown up in the studio at the same time. The awesome fabulousness of the moment was almost too much to bear, especially since two of her star pupils Lee Shian and Sara were also in attendance. 

To watch these women casually plant their hands on the mat and then rise lightly like champagne bubbles into the air with such control, grace and strength was to realise that despite all my best daily efforts and diligence, I was, for all intents and purposes, basically a deformed, asthmatic sub-tropical toad.

For two days, I huffed and puffed my way through Day’s drills, turning bright red while Lee Shian and Sara barely raised a light glow, not a single strand of hair ever falling out of place. By the end of it, I was no nearer to a handstand than when I’d started. Only now, I was more convinced than ever that I might also be physically dyslexic. 

Now, a lesser person might have left that workshop with the ego of a collapsed souffle. But I was raised by a Chinese tiger mother and so, negativity and self-doubt are bred in my bones. Failure doesn’t faze me. I am perversely strengthened by adversity. And so, far from being discouraged, I have persevered. 

Quite why I’m so obsessively single minded about learning how to stand on my hands is unclear. A handstand serves no useful purpose in life. None. No human resources manager has ever written a job description stipulating, “Excel spreadsheet and handstand skills are essential.”

Well, maybe if the job in question was for a Cirque du Soleil production. Or if you’re auditioning for a spot on the US Olympics Gymnastics team. But other than that, handstands have all the utility of a comb-over on a mostly bald head. 

Sure, some online teachers will tell you that handstands help strengthen the body because they engage multiple muscles like biceps, triceps and lats, whilst juicing up the abdominal core. But let’s be frank, no one ever gets on the handstand bandwagon for multiple muscle engagement. 

The truth is, people do handstands for one reason and one reason only: it looks friggin’ cool. It’s up there with Illia Malinin’s quadruple jump at this year’s World Championships, Black Widow’s signature crotch-throw grab, Mariah’s F Sharp 7, and Nigella’s Chocolate Orange Cloud Cake.

Also, Mr Green, my English teacher in school, used to say that one should always be learning something new. Even if it’s learning to write legibly, he once observed, sharing pointedly at me as he handed back my Great Expectations essay. I’ve never forgotten that little nugget of life advice. It’s how I started yoga, Transcendental Meditation, and how to neatly fold a fitted bedsheet. 

Mr Green only ever said to learn something new. He never said it needed to be anything useful. Which is why as soon as I’m done obsessing over handstands, Valerian and Klingon are next on my list.