If I Only Had a Core

For my third Gazelles workout, Gilbert mandated circuit training. I haven’t done anything like this since junior high soccer practice. We start with a 400m lap, and follow with a sequence of step ups, push ups, crunches, these things called ‘Superman . . .' things or whatever they are, squats while leaning against a fence and lunges. Then it’s back on the track and repeat four times. I find this surprisingly demanding. It’s like digging deep into your closet and pulling out shoes you haven’t worn in five years, but they’re your muscles. It’s like, oh yeah, I have those. But you need them to run better, stronger and faster, so this is all part of my awakening to actual proper running.

When we’re done we gather inside the track for the real fun and games. We hop around on both feet, then one at a time. Then we perform something called ’15-45-90,’ which, in terms of general discomfort, I think ranks just below waterboarding. We lie on our backs and raise our legs together, first at a 15-degree angle for 15 seconds. Then, it’s 45 degrees for 45 seconds. And, finally, 90 degrees, 90 seconds. Oh my sweet Jesus. It was clear who the yoga and pilates practitioners in the group were, because they all passed with flying colors. I, however, did not. At 45 degrees my legs bended and drooped, and my 90 morphed into a 70. I ended the exercise in a crumpled distorted heap, my arms stretching up into the sky grasping for something, anything, that could pull me from this hell. Where did my core go? Do I even have a core? I seem to be core-less. Note to self: Find your core. Get to know it. Work on it.

Finally, Gilbert leads us in a call and response exercise type deal where we pound furiously on the ground with our feet while he sings “Iyo Ngwe” and we repeat back to him. In Kirundi I believe it literally means “Hey, there’s a lion,” or “A lion lies in wait.” But what it really means is “If you don’t have a core, you’re screwed.” I wanted to modify the exchange to say, “Robert’s lying on the ground,” but I didn’t get much support.

Still, this is the best medicine for me. My form is terrible, and if I want to stop flapping my left arm around and leaning to the side—as Gilbert is always eager to point out— I need to strengthen and engage my core muscles. If there was just a way to do that without those pesky 15, 45 and 90 second Guantanamo-style leg lifts, I’d be a much happier camper.