What Happened to the Balance & Mobility Class?

While we have answered residents' questions when asked directly, we have not publicly shared the full circumstances surrounding our decision not to return. We believe it is time to set the record straight.

As that decision has been discussed within the community, we have repeatedly heard essentially the same explanation:

"Damian and Meghann have made the decision not to continue."

While that statement is technically true, it is also a misrepresentation by omission. It omits the circumstances that brought us to that point and, in doing so, leaves residents with an incomplete understanding of why the Balance & Mobility class came to an end.

Our purpose in writing this is not to revisit our decision. Rather, we believe residents deserve the full context behind a program that served this community for more than three years, included more than 400 classes, and touched the lives of many of our neighbors.

Was There an Opportunity for Dialogue? 

On June 29, 2026, in response to an email from Activities Director, Dawn Gibson, asking when Balance & Mobility would be returning, we explained that we had made the difficult decision to end the class. We copied Property Manager Kara Blewett, Board President Lori Shields, and Vice President Cindy Scott, outlining many of the experiences and concerns that had brought us to that point. At the time, we hoped the information we provided would be carefully considered and that meaningful dialogue would follow. 

Only Dawn responded to our email. However, her response was limited to a general acknowledgment of our decision and did not address any of the issues we had raised. The Property Manager, Board President, and Vice President—each of whom had been copied on the email—did not reply.

We were therefore surprised to later hear statements suggesting that we had made no attempt to meet or discuss our concerns. Our June 29 email was that attempt. It answered Dawn's question and documented many of the experiences that had brought us to that point.

Despite receiving that email, none of those individuals contacted us directly to continue the conversation. If anyone wished to discuss our concerns further, a simple reply to that email would have opened the dialogue.

Why We Chose Not to Return:

To understand why we made the difficult decision to end Balance & Mobility, it’s important to understand the experiences that brought us to that point. Our hope is that by sharing our story, residents will better understand how we got here.

No single event led to our decision. Rather, it was the cumulative effect of experiences spanning more than three years.

Many of the experiences described below may seem minor when viewed individually. We understand that. However, when viewed together, they reveal a consistent pattern that ultimately made it clear that it was time for us to step away.

A Lack of Support From the Beginning

Frequent turnover among management and Board members, along with a lack of continuity, made it difficult to build lasting support for our wellness programming. Our experience actually began roughly six months before Balance & Mobility even started, when we spent more than a month developing a comprehensive Community Wellness Clinic for residents. We compiled the educational materials ourselves, created a presentation, and spent more than $400 printing booklets for attendees. Despite that investment, the clinic received only a single-line mention in a community email—essentially a title, date, time, and Damian’s name—with no description of what residents would learn or context about his professional qualifications. Only six residents attended.

Over the roughly three years that followed, we worked with three different Activities Directors, repeatedly having to reestablish who we were and what our program provided. Even well into Balance & Mobility, there was at times a basic lack of familiarity with our program—including confusion about what class we taught, when it was held, and even our names. Individually, these may seem like small things. Collectively, they contributed to a longstanding sense that little effort was made to understand or build upon the wellness programming we were trying to provide to the community.

More than three years of commitment with no institutional support. We conducted more than 400 Balance & Mobility classes and invested thousands of hours in planning, preparing, setting up, teaching, cleaning up, communicating with participants, and continually improving the program.

From the beginning, we encountered roadblocks simply trying to make residents aware that the class existed. A previous Activities Director told us that we would need to advertise the class ourselves on NextDoor and that community email blasts could not be used to promote it. Flyers we placed in the Fitness Center and Post Office to introduce the class were removed. Despite receiving no promotion from the Activities Director, Balance & Mobility grew and maintained strong attendance solely through word of mouth and the support of residents.

Operational Challenges

We repeatedly dealt with room obstacles and disruptions and, despite that, found ways to make the class happen. On numerous occasions, we arrived to find rooms closed off, tables or other setups left in the way, the space double-booked, or one of the two rooms we normally used unavailable. At times, this forced us to cram the entire class into a single room despite the space needed to safely conduct a movement-based class. Rather than cancel, we repeatedly adapted, moved tables and obstacles ourselves, rearranged the space, and did whatever we could to make class happen rather than disappoint the residents who showed up. Much of this happened behind the scenes, so participants often had no idea what we had encountered before class even began.

From the very beginning, repeated class cancellations became one of the most significant roadblocks to getting Balance & Mobility off the ground. Whenever the room was needed for other community purposes, our regularly scheduled classes were expected to give way. Whether we were given advance notice or not, each cancellation disrupted the class, interrupted the program's momentum, and undermined the consistency that is essential for any successful fitness program.

During a six-month period in the program's first year, while we were still trying to establish our class and grow participation, the class was cancelled 15 times. Progress in any fitness program is built through regular attendance and repetition. Improvements in strength, balance, mobility, and confidence occur gradually over time, making these repeated interruptions a detriment to the very residents the class was designed to serve.

Because cancellations occurred so often, we were forced to create and constantly update a class calendar for participants, maintain the schedule on our website, and regularly post reminders on NextDoor so residents would know whether class was actually taking place. We were told community-wide email notifications could not be used to communicate these cancellations, leaving us to manage the confusion ourselves. Despite those efforts, residents still arrived expecting class only to find the room unavailable. Many understandably assumed the cancellations were our decision. Others became frustrated, and some eventually stopped attending altogether because they no longer knew when the class would actually be held.

These disruptions affected far more than our schedule. Every cancelled class represented income we simply lost, while the time, preparation, and effort required to operate the program remained. The class fee was a nominal $5, largely offsetting the costs of providing the program. In addition to supplying equipment ourselves—including mats, bands, and kneeling pads—we were required to maintain liability insurance and current professional certifications, both of which came at a significant cost. The program was never primarily about generating income; we continued it because we believed in its value to residents.

The repeated cancellations placed an unnecessary burden on a program that was already requiring significant personal investment. Even after Balance & Mobility became an established, well-attended class, it often seemed expected to accommodate other community scheduling needs without equal consideration for the impact on us or the residents who relied on it.

Loss of Our Only Meaningful Promotion

Our only consistent community visibility was ultimately removed. For years, a small, business-card-sized ad for Balance & Mobility appeared on the fitness page of the community newsletter. That placement had originally been requested by a previous Activities Director and was never presented to us as paid advertising. It was the class’s only consistent visibility within the community. Then, just days before Christmas, we received an email from Dawn informing us that the ad’s longstanding placement had been deemed an “oversight” and that we would have to pay $500 to keep it. In effect, the only meaningful visibility the class had ever received was suddenly being monetized. When we declined, the ad was removed, and our written concerns went unanswered.

This was particularly difficult to understand when other programming, services, and businesses continued to receive regular email promotion and free newsletter visibility. The apparent inconsistency in how promotional opportunities were provided—and who was expected to pay for them—was one of the concerns we raised and never received an answer to.

The Final Week

One of our last interactions with the Activities Director was particularly upsetting. The Fitness Center is one of the community’s most heavily used amenities, with Mondays typically being its busiest day. Yet every Monday, it closes from noon to 1:00 p.m. for what is described as “deep cleaning.” In practice, the observable cleaning during that hour consists of vacuuming the open areas of the gym. On Mondays, when Damian’s private training session extended until approximately 12:15 p.m., he simply finished with his client while staying out of the way and never interfering with the vacuuming.

On the final Tuesday of Balance & Mobility—the same day we announced that the class would be going on pause—Dawn came into the room at the end of class while Damian was making that announcement. She asked us to share the personal email we had prepared to send to our participants, which we felt crossed an inappropriate boundary. She then proceeded to tell Damian that she had received a “formal, written complaint with his name on it” regarding his remaining in the Fitness Center past noon on Mondays and warned him that if it continued, he could “lose his privileges to utilize the amenities.” That warning was particularly concerning because Damian’s work as a trainer in the Fitness Center is part of our livelihood, in addition to the fact that we are residents who pay assessments for access to those community amenities.

The conversation continued for approximately 15 minutes, completely taking Damian away from our participants, immediately after they had learned that the class, many of them had attended for years, was going on pause. Several were understandably emotional, and this should have been an opportunity for him to speak with them personally and say goodbye. By the time the conversation ended, most participants had already left, and that opportunity was gone. Given the circumstances and timing, the way this was handled was especially hurtful.

Adding to the tone of that interaction, Dawn told Damian that same day that she was “already working on a replacement” for Balance & Mobility. At a time when the class was only going on pause, the comment felt unnecessarily dismissive and seemed to underscore how little value was being placed on what we had built.

Balance & Mobility was not simply another group exercise class. The class was based on a chronic low-back physical therapy routine and was taught by a resident professional with advanced education in kinesiology, nationally recognized credentials in clinical exercise physiology, strength and conditioning, and corrective exercise, along with 35 years in the health and fitness industry. It was a specialized program built over more than three years around the needs of our residents—not simply an open spot on the activity calendar to be filled.

What Came Next?

The announcement of our pause marked the first time Balance & Mobility had ever been mentioned in a community-wide email. After more than three years without a single promotional email for our class, residents were informed that we were going on “hiatus” and that something “fresh and exciting” was being pursued. There was no acknowledgment of the more than 400 classes we had provided, the years invested in the program, or what it had contributed to the community. Several participants reached out to us after receiving the email because they, too, found the messaging demeaning and were struck by how little acknowledgement was given to a class that had served the community for so long. Ultimately, the events of our final week, compounded by the way the pause was handled and communicated, was the tipping point that led us to decide that we could not return.

Since Balance & Mobility ended, the level of promotion surrounding new fitness programming has been striking. Almost immediately, Tai Chi began receiving frequent community-wide promotion, appearing in multiple community emails every week, being highlighted at Board meetings, and even having its registration and attendance publicly recognized. More recently, another new fitness class was introduced with the same level of visibility before it had even begun—despite focusing on many of the same areas Balance & Mobility addressed, including strength, stability, mobility, balance, confidence, and independence.

We have no objection to these classes or to residents having more fitness options. We believe they do. The disparity is the point.

Unlike the new programs now receiving immediate promotional support, Balance & Mobility grew almost entirely through word of mouth. That growth wasn't driven by community-wide promotion—it was earned through the relationships we built with residents, the personal attention we gave each participant, the welcoming atmosphere we worked to create, and a program that people genuinely looked forward to attending each week. Residents encouraged neighbors to join, brought friends, and shared their positive experiences because they believed in what we were building together.

That is why the current level of promotion has been so difficult to reconcile. We are now watching new fitness programming receive, from the outset, the kind of visibility, enthusiasm, and institutional support that Balance & Mobility never experienced.

If anything, the response to these new offerings demonstrates the power of sustained promotion. When programs are repeatedly placed in front of residents through frequent community-wide communication, enthusiastically highlighted, and their success publicly celebrated, people notice and participate.

The juxtaposition between what we experienced and what is happening today is difficult to ignore. We are witnessing, in real time, the full promotional support available when management chooses to use it. Had Balance & Mobility been given that same opportunity, we believe this would be a very different story.

Looking Back

The program increasingly felt tolerated rather than valued. We are Village Walk residents who created a program for our own neighbors. We developed the programming, supplied our own equipment, handled setup and cleanup, and required relatively little from the community beyond access to appropriate space. Despite the class’s longevity, attendance, and positive feedback, we increasingly felt that it was something management accommodated rather than a resident-led resource worth valuing.

No single one of these issues caused us to end Balance & Mobility. It was the cumulative effect of more than three years of obstacles, cancellations, inconsistent treatment, lack of promotion, unanswered concerns, and repeatedly feeling that a program we worked so hard to build was not valued or supported by management or the Board. It became, quite simply, death by a thousand cuts.

We understand that many residents are disappointed, and we do not take that lightly. We know how much the class meant to those who attended, and that is precisely why we continued for as long as we did. What participants saw was the hour we spent together in class; what they could not always see was what it took behind the scenes to keep making that hour possible. For more than three years, we continued trying to work through the challenges because we genuinely wanted the program to succeed. Eventually, however, continuing came at the expense of our own peace and well-being. At some point, we had to recognize that what we were being asked to accept was no longer sustainable for us.

A Broader Concern:

Our decision to step away was personal, but our experience also raised questions that extend beyond Balance & Mobility.

Like many residents, we enthusiastically supported and voted for change in the recent Board election. The campaign promised greater transparency and accountability, along with a fresh look at whether our current management company remained the best fit for Village Walk.

Board members have a fiduciary responsibility to act in the best interests of the community. Part of that responsibility is providing meaningful oversight of management.

The Board does not have to agree with every concern raised, but it should be willing to hear more than one side.

Our experience left us wondering whether that happened here. Rather than seeing our concerns independently explored by the Board, they appeared to end with the Activities Director. We received no indication that the issues we documented were ever discussed beyond her perspective. When residents ask what happened to Balance & Mobility, the explanation they receive continues to reflect only that side of the story—simply that, “Damian and Meghann have made the decision not to continue.”

There is also a separate issue of transparency. Some programs and vendors receive extensive free promotion. Others pay substantial newsletter advertising fees or receive virtually no promotion at all. What criteria are used to determine who receives free promotion and who is required to pay? Are those criteria applied fairly and consistently? Is everyone being given an equal opportunity to succeed?

That leaves us with an important question: Who is the Board ultimately there to represent—management, or the residents who elected them?

A Final Note:

As long as residents continue to receive an incomplete explanation of what happened, we believe they should have the opportunity to hear directly from us as well.

We have shared our experience here openly and in our own words—not to change anyone’s mind, but to provide the context that has been missing. We understand that people may have “different perspectives,” and we respect that. Our hope is that residents will consider the full circumstances that led to our decision and draw their own conclusions.