Core with Wendy

The alarm's blaring at 4:40am was a declaration of war, an aggressive nudge against the tranquil embrace of sleep. Now, I've never been a masochist, but that snooze button- It beckoned like a siren, and I obliged. Ten minutes of borrowed peace, and then, the second clarion call. This time, it was serious. In the muted glow of dawn, while the world snored on, I had to pull off a transformation: from a drowsy dreamer to someone ready to conquer a workout, all in a mere thirty minutes. My destination? The 5:30am class.

I'd bet a month's worth of sleep that I'd be welcomed by Olivia's familiar "why are we here this early?" look. Instead, it was Wendy, standing tall, smile shining brighter than any star left in the pre-dawn sky. Her St. John’s sweater and the lines of wisdom on her face whispered tales of older, bolder battles, perhaps shared with my step-mother during their college days.

The Core class, though it spanned a fleeting 20 minutes, was no walk in the park. A relentless assault on abdominals: planks in degrees of torment, dumbbell routines, and platform drills. And every move screamed for a core held tighter than my grip on that morning's sanity. That day, before most people's alarms even contemplated ringing, my midriff faced challenges in this class that set the stage for two more abdominal trials. As we all caught our breaths, my eyes roamed, only to confirm I was the pup in a room of seasoned wolves. The average age there? Let's just say if I gambled, I'd wager the next in line was clocking in at double my lifespan. This wasn't a seniors' meet, but it had all the markings.

Now, as I plot out my roadmap of fitness endeavors, I weigh the worth of Core's inclusion. Its potency isn't up for debate. But surrendering to that pre-dawn cruelty daily? There's a special kind of awful reserved for 4:40am wake-up calls.

All the best,

Fred