A decade ago, paddleboarding was something people did on holiday, or if they were American. Pretty soon, it started to spring up anywhere there was a canal, unless it was a filthy canal, and before long it was available at music festivals. This sealed its place, for me, as a bit of a hipster’s affectation, a way to exercise while still looking countercultural; as if you would never be seen dead exercising (see also in this category: surfing; lindy hop).

Paddleboarding is a mix between surfing and kayaking: you stand on the board (about 10-11ft long) and then propel yourself along with the paddle. I have a go in Paddington Basin, which I’m a bit scared of, because the daughter of a policeman told me her father had once found a hand in there. But I’m more scared of balancing on a paddleboard, one of those skills (like parenting or making choux pastry) that you don’t know you’ll be able to master until it’s too late to back out. Yes, you really do have to get off the jetty and stand on the board. You have to brace your abs enough that you keep your balance, but not tense up so completely that you disturb your entire relationship with gravity. In the interests of not tensing up, I imagine it would be a bit easier if you were slightly drunk to start with, but I wasn’t and, again, it was too late.

Once you’re on the board, you’ll need a bit of time just familiarising yourself with not falling in. The most useful way to do this is with the mantra: “Falling in is not the end of the world; there are no hands in Paddington Basin.” However, don’t spend too long doing this: the momentum of moving has a stabilising effect.

This is not a very technical sport; the paddles go in, at a clean angle, and come out again. It doesn’t make huge demands on your upper body, and you pick up a fair amount of speed even with novice strokes. You can put more welly into it when you’re more confident but, in the first instance, most of your energy is in the muscular effort of keeping your balance, plus the intellectual donkey work of relentless self-congratulation: here I am, moving along through water with my own brute strength. Ah, here I am again: behold my tremendous thighs, which would normally be giving up on this mini-squat position, were it not for the watery peril.

It reminded me a bit of callanetics, the huge 1980s weight-loss trend: the theory behind it was that tiny, pulsing movements, repeated over an hour, would help tone you. It was meant to give you amazing contours. Although nobody says the same about paddleboarding, it’s a result I can easily imagine. The effort, while not backbreaking, is sustained. Then there’s all that mental peace: losing yourself physically, concentrating utterly; the pleasure of the water. You could – give or take the modern spec of the equipment – be in a Georges Seurat painting, which is something I’ve never thought before in my epic keep-fit journey.

What I learned

You have to check your tides. You will be a happy novice only on flat water.