#1: [solidcore]
Foreword: While this used to be a random platform for my musings, yearly In/Out lists, and things that might qualify as essays, I’m now doing what is known in The Industry as a “pivot”: rebranding as a ClassPass enthusiast-cum-fitness blogger. Each time I try a new class I’ll write about it with my characteristic acerbic wit (lol), and also hopefully provide insight into whether or not a class is worth the $$$. You can trust me, I’ve run two mid-paced marathons and can do several “boy” pushups.
[solidcore] has been at the top of my workout class wishlist for some time now, mostly because a skinny friend insisted that it is guaranteed to get you snatched. So I found myself in Downtown Brooklyn at 2:15 pm on a Friday, sitting on a modified pilates reformer in a dark, mirror-lined room with harsh blue lighting, having the various parts of the apparatus (called a Sweatlana™) explained to me by an instructor named John*. Now I really give props to the company for picking a name for their contraption that is both cringe-worthy and yet speaks to the lizard brain of women who grew up on heroin chic and being told to skip meals and suck it in. It’s tongue-in-cheek but also conjures up the image of a rail-thin blonde named Svetlana—she’s better than you, she hardly breaks a sweat, she’s vaguely menacing—the Russian-adjacence of the name is truly the cherry on top considering it’s a class by and for Americans. I will henceforth continue to refer to the machines as reformers, because the shame of typing out Sweatlana™ in earnest over and over again is too much for a person to bear.
Each reformer has a front platform, about a foot wide, a large middle section, maybe three feet in length, that slides back and forth along the tracks of the machine, and a back platform that’s also about a foot in length. The platform in the middle has four different distance markings, and can also be modified to different levels of resistance. All platforms have bands across them which you use to secure your feet for different movements. Underneath the middle platform are assorted dumbbells (I believe 2.5-10 pounds). If you’re confused about what I’m describing, you can Google “reformer pilates” or even better “solidcore”. As you’ll see, they look like torture devices (because they are). As John described before the class started, everything about [solidcore] is designed to maximize time under tension, fatiguing muscles past failure.
The class filled up with 15 or so women, all of whom appeared to be in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties. As everyone settled into their reformer, John went around and took down everyone’s name on a notepad. He recognized a few of them and exchanged hellos and hugs, including one whom he said he hadn’t seen in a while—to which she replied “I’m postpartum”.
Then John put on a blaring pop playlist, and started us off with a series of planks where our feet were on the stationary platform and our forearms were on the sliding one, instructing us to slide back and forth from full plank to a curved back, fighting resistance from the contraption. Then was a series of Bulgarian split squat-type maneuvers, as well as these killer lunges where you had your back leg on the moving platform and slid it behind you into a full lunge and then slowly, in a controlled manner, slid it back to standing.
While each movement immediately made me feel the burn, and many made me shake relentlessly, none were held for very long before switching to a slightly different variation that worked the same muscles, with John barking countdowns and modifications and instructions and running around checking on everyone (and to his credit, adjusting my reformer for me in the midst of all the fast-paced changes). The nonstop chatter served as a welcome distraction.
He also shouted out words of encouragement often, saying things like, “I see you Erica” and, “Work it Coco” and, “You got this Jessica”, and it struck me how hilarious it was that these women were working their asses off (quite literally) to get some acknowledgement from this gay man who teaches this one very specific kind of cult/workout for a living. Then again, when he said, “That’s right, Emma!” I felt like a goddamn rockstar.
While I left the class on wobbly legs, I wasn’t cardiovascularly tired and I wasn’t all that sweaty. After most workouts, whether it be a run or a hard lift, I return positively drenched with sweat, but after [solidcore] I could’ve plausibly wiped my pits in the bathroom sink, reapplied deodorant, and gone on with my day.
All-in-all I wasn’t converted to an instant devotee, and I wouldn’t use [solidcore] as a replacement for running or heavy-ish lifting, but I do see it having a place in my regular fitness regimen—like maybe 3-4 times a month. It left me thinking a lot about strength as something that can either be “discrete” or “continuous”—discrete being the ability to hold your body in a shape like a plank for two minutes, continuous being the ability to smoothly flow across the entire range of motion required when doing a dynamic plank on a reformer machine. At various times in my life I’ve had relatively great “discrete” strength, but [solidcore] showed me that my “continuous” strength leaves something to be desired.
In my quest to become ever-powerful (read: strong and flexible and fast), I’ll try other pilates too to right this weakness (this was my very first foray into pilates, though technically [solidcore] isn’t even true pilates). Discovering a huge gap in my training is always bruising to the ego, and so at the very least I’ll continue with it until I can confidently finish a class without my major muscle groups failing so hard that I need to jump to modifications. I’m also curious to see if gains in a [solidcore]-style class will translate to other kinds of fitness or if like many HIIT-style classes it only makes you better at the class itself.
Final housekeeping notes:
While there were no specific locker rooms at the location I went to (assuming that’s standard across locations), they did have pretty spacious lockers in the reception area that didn’t require bringing your own lock.
The bathrooms were stocked with tampons, hair bands, and nice products (I may have been hallucinating but I think I saw deodorant spray).
Leggings and a sports bra were what pretty much everyone was wearing, and you take off shoes and socks for the workout.
Classes run 50 minutes.
Thank you for reading! Tell your friends!
And as always, stay sweaty New York.