There’s (sedentary) rejoicing in my community, the pathologically lazy, at the news that only 11 minutes of brisk walking a day may save us from early death. Of course, multiple caveats must accompany this statement, distilled from a Cambridge University-led meta-analysis of data on physical activity and heart disease. We would have to be in the lucky 10%: only one in 10 early deaths could be avoided with a brief constitutional. Exercise levels were also self-reported, meaning researchers had to make some assumptions about duration and intensity. And 11 minutes is a neatly digestible take-home from analysing 196 studies with more than 30 million participants, not a magic bullet.
We like a magic-bullet figure though, don’t we? Real-world public health messages ought to be distilled from hard science, but sometimes emerge in the absence of it; as with the persistent “10,000 steps” myth. The World Health Organization’s recommendation of 400g minimum of fruit and veg daily became our five-a-day article of faith, even though 2017 research found upping it to 10 a day could prevent 7.8m premature deaths. Brushing your teeth for the recommended two minutes may only reduce plaque by less than half; four minutes is better. But we’re human: most of us manage 45 seconds brushing and only 28% of adults reported reaching our five a day in 2018 (it’s probably even less now, during the Great Salad Penury).
We’re tired and broken and can’t be arsed to do what we know we should. Well, I am. And if you’re on that new “30 plants a week” regime and vibrating with microbiome health, keep it to yourself: I’ve been failing to throw out a rotting cauliflower in the fridge since Christmas. Things need to be realistic and achievable for there to be any chance of most of us doing them and, assuming you are in reasonable health and can walk, this walking one feels achievable. I spend more than 11 minutes staring at that rotten cauliflower most days. To have something so manageable to aspire to feels like a very satisfying compromise wrung from science by exercise refuseniks like me (not budging is something we’re really good at, after all). Do 150 vigorous exercise minutes a week? Meh, here’s my counter-offer: no minutes. How about 11 minutes a day? Done. “Doing some physical activity is better than doing none,” as Dr Soren Brage, one of the study’s authors, says with pleasing pragmatism.
In the interests of rewarding science for its flexibility, I tried some 11-minute walks over a few days. Firstly, I discovered that if I keep the pace up and there’s no queue, I can get to the corner shop, buy a packet of Big Hoops and get home within 11 minutes. But having realised this is possibly suboptimal for my cardiovascular health, I set another timer and headed away from temptation. Even on a dispiritingly leaden March day, in a suburb where no influencers ever come to have their pictures taken, there were wonders: starlings whirring and clicking, wheeling seagulls screaming, snowdrops, winter jasmine and daffodils and a fluffed-up blackbird hiding quietly in a hedge. There was a spaniel as luxuriantly glossy and blond as a supermodel and even a hipster in braces and one of those rolled-up beanie hats. Are we gentrifying? I didn’t get the memo.
Lastly, I invited my husband – a man who free-dives to the bottom of 30-metre pools and climbs cliffs for pleasure – to accompany me and the ancient dog on another 11-minuter. “It’s 11 minutes brisk walking,” he whispered sorrowfully, as the dog staggered to next-door’s hedge, sniffed it at extravagant length, stared at a discarded Monster can for two minutes and then ground to a halt. “Brisk!” For all his frustration, I think we all got something out of our 11 minutes, even if it wasn’t improved cardiovascular outcomes. The dog discovered energy drinks, my husband slowed down momentarily, and we all met a tiny puppy, all black fluff and outsized paws, mind blown by its first walk. I’d do it again for the puppy alone. My entirely unscientific conclusion? This could actually be achievable enough to catch on.
• Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
