Me before the pandemic.
In the maskless months before the pandemic, former NYC Mayor Bill de Blasio tweeted about subway seats that are particularly uncomfortable for tall, long-legged riders. In this January 2020 Twitter debate, he joked that seats 4 and 5, the chairs that run parallel to the windows, “don’t exist” for tall people like himself.
Back when I took the subway on a daily basis, I agreed with de Blasio, on this one point alone.
At 5’10’’ with a wide-shouldered physique, I detest the orange bucket seats that give me lower back pain (LBP).
Affecting most adults at some point in their lives, LBP is one of the most common reasons for workplace absenteeism across the globe.
Before I worked remotely, back pain had become such an issue that I conducted my own research on contributing factors, including my commute. One afternoon, I stepped on and off various subway lines. I noticed the A and C often featured the old flat bench design, a common sight in the recently retired R32 cars. Those didn’t bother me. Similarly, new gray benches on several lines provided curving support for the lumbar spine
But the orange bucket seats gave me enormous grief. At 17 inches with a bony ¼ inch ridge on both sides, the bucket seats shrink-wrapped my caboose. The smooth slippery surface forced me to flatten my sacrum. With my head against the frame of an ad, my neck and shoulders rounded toward the aisle.
When I called Dr. Loren Fishman, author of Yoga for Back Pain and Yoga for Osteoporosis, I thought he would agree with my observations. Yet he actually liked the bucket seats because they allowed his spine to maintain classic curves, “like a Greek sculpture.”
“It’s actually a better chair than most,” Fishman said. “The worst thing about it is how hard it is. I don’t know how to correct that except to sit on a coat to change the communication of the vibrations from the floor to the back.”
He also recommends tapping toes and heels to encourage circulation. Deep breathing exercises can also alleviate lower back pain.
According to Christer Olsson, operations manager at Ergonomic Technologies Corporation, the “perfect chair” for one person might feel like torture to someone else.
Generally, most sitters need to feel their feet firmly on the ground with the back resting at an angle above 90 degrees. A “good” chair may allow a bit of backward reclining. (The orange bucket seats do that.) Also, a sitter should be able to change the height of the seat pan, the horizontal surface meant to hold body weight.
“What makes a chair ergonomic is the ability to adjust it to fit your own needs,” Olsson said. “Obviously, subway chairs do not meet that requirement.”
If such a chair does not properly “restore” the spine’s curves, a sitter might crumple in flexion. This forward position can push the gel inside the vertebral discs to the point of herniation.
“The best thing would be to walk back and forth on the train,” Olsson says. “But what’s good for ergonomics may not be good for safety on a moving subway.”
In the United States, LBP costs a fortune, although health organizations can’t agree on how much. An often cited 2006 review in the Journal of Bone & Joint Surgery suggests a burden of more than $100 billion per year, with two-thirds of the expense related to lost wages and reduced productivity
Before the pandemic, 5,580,845 people took the subway each weekday, according to 2017 statistics from the MTA. In normal years, our public transit system—which has the largest number of stations of any system in the world—serves 1,727,366,607. That translates into nearly 2 billion unique spines jostling up and down.
I’m no longer a daily passenger, and my spine is not part of the statistics. But one day, I will commute again regularly. And I will adjust, just as I did through every wave of the pandemic. But the seats could be more comfy, more supportive of workers who form the backbone of NYC.
I am a health and wellness director in Manhattan. I consider myself a cruise director on land and screen, executing health-based adventures.