Lower Back Strength — From Fragility to Power

Lower back.

This comes from the heart.

I know the lower back because it’s caused me so many problems over the years, and not just physical problems either. The physical pain is one thing, but what it does to you internally, to your sense of yourself, that’s the real sting.

There are certain moments that just stay with you.

One of them was stepping off a curb.

Nothing dramatic. Just a curb. Four inches, maybe. I’d been doing more office-based work at the time, not moving as much as I usually would. I already had a bit of a niggle in the lower back, nothing too serious, but it was there.

And I stepped off.

That tiny drop jarred straight through me. A sharp line of pain shot up through the lower back. It wasn’t even that the pain was unbearable. It wasn’t that.

It was what it meant.

It took me a few steps to recover, and in those few steps something shifted internally. Because for someone like me, who has had to stand on his own two feet from a very young age, who has found himself in different parts of the world with very little support, relying on physical capability not as a luxury but as a necessity…

That moment was crushing.

I’ve always relied on my body.

Manual work. Demolition sites. Agriculture. Carrying, lifting, shifting, doing whatever needed to be done to survive. I didn’t have the luxury of a clean, uninterrupted academic path. Life didn’t go that way. It was messy. It was improvised. And through all of that, the one constant was this—

My body worked.

And because of that, I worked.

So when something as simple as stepping off a curb suddenly exposes weakness in that system, it hits deeper than just the tissue.

It hits identity.

Because for me, strength isn’t just aesthetic. It isn’t recreational.

It’s survival.
It’s contribution.
It’s dignity.

If someone needs help lifting something, I help. If something needs doing, I do it. That’s part of who I am.

So when the back goes…

it’s not just the back.

It’s everything that sits on top of it.

And I’ve had more than my fair share of those moments.

I remember being down in Wales, staying with a friend in a tepee. I’d walked all night to get there, playing a tambourine, slightly out of my mind, cold, damp, but alive. Went into the woods and did some shamanic work, blindfolded, moving through the darkness, trying to perceive the world through the body rather than just the eyes.

And for a moment—genuinely—I felt like I could see.

Not visually, not in the conventional sense, but something opened. The body lit up. The environment was alive. It was extraordinary.

And then, full of that energy, I started throwing capoeira movements.

In the dark.

On uneven ground.

In an overexcited state.

Not my wisest decision.

One movement. One twist. And something tore deep around the sacroiliac area.

That was it.

Three days unable to walk properly.

And what I remember most is not the pain.

It’s the dependence.

Being in someone else’s space, unable to move, unable to function, needing help.

That feeling is revolting.

Utterly revolting.

And I swore, again, that I would do whatever it took to get out of that position and to help other people never have to experience that if it could be avoided.

That’s where this comes from.

Not theory.

Not textbooks.

Experience.

Repeated, frustrating, humbling experience.

What changed everything wasn’t more effort.

It was precision.

The day I walked into a physiotherapy clinic in Battersea and started working with people who actually understood movement—properly understood it—was a turning point.

They didn’t give me more general exercises.

They gave me specific ones.

Small. Targeted. Almost unimpressive.

But they worked.

Muscles that hadn’t been firing started firing. Structures that had been compensating started settling. The system reorganised.

And that was it.

That was the shift.

It became a kind of religion for me.

Because once you realise that you can take something that has been plaguing you for years and change it with the right information, applied consistently…

you don’t dabble.

You commit.

And I did.

I built it into everything. My own training. My teaching. My classes. And I watched it happen again and again with other people.

People coming in fragile, cautious, unsure…

and leaving stronger, more stable, more confident.

That transition—from feeling broken on the inside to feeling whole again—

there is nothing like it.

Nothing.

And that is why this matters.

The System Principle

Prepare → Activate → Integrate

The lower back does not respond well to random effort.

It responds to sequence.

First you prepare the tissues.
Then you activate the stabilisers.
Then you integrate the system.

Miss that order, and you reinforce the problem.

Follow it, and the body starts to rebuild.

Practical Protocol

The Lower Back Sequence

This is the structure.

Simple.
Precise.
Effective.

1. Spinal Mobilisation

Prepare the system

You start by loosening everything.

Not forcing. Not stretching aggressively.

Just moving.

Feet grounded. Knees slightly bent. Arms swinging gently side to side. At first, keep the head still so the movement creates a soft torsion through the spine. A gentle wringing through the discs and tissues.

Then layer it.

Turn the head slightly.
Let the breath deepen so the diaphragm drops and releases the lower back.
Shift the weight from side to side.

Then vary it further.

Lift the toes, shift your weight, turn the whole body.
Small movements. Loose arms. No tension.

Then isolate the tailbone.

Tiny movements.

Forward. Back.
Side to side.
Little circles.

Almost nothing.

But very specific.

This is where you begin to wake up the deeper structures.

Warm it like Blu-Tack.

Cold, it snaps.

Warm, it moves.

2. Back Stabilisation (Forward Lean Work)

Activate the system

Now we start asking something of the back.

Feet apart.

Knees bent.

Lean forward—about forty-five degrees to begin with.

You’re now loading the system.

From here, extend the arms forward and begin small lifts up and down.

Nothing dramatic.

But the effect is immediate.

The stabiliser muscles along the spine switch on.

You can adjust the intensity easily.

More upright, arms closer = less load.
Lower, arms further away = more load.

You stay within control.

You build gradually.

Hold the position. Breathe. Let the muscles do their work.

This is one of the most effective ways to strengthen the lower back without putting it at risk.

It doesn’t crush it.

It trains it.

3. Supine Toe Touch

Integrate the front

Now we lie down.

Because the lower back is not just supported from behind.

It is supported from the front as well.

Exhale.

Draw the navel towards the spine. Let the tailbone tuck slightly so the lower back makes contact with the floor.

Then lift the legs to tabletop.

And slowly—very slowly—lower one foot towards the ground.

Bring it back.

Alternate.

The movement is small.

The control is everything.

If the lower back lifts, you’ve lost it.

Reset.

Continue.

This builds the deep internal support system—the muscles that actually protect the spine.

4. Side Plank (Modified)

Stabilise the system

Now the sides.

Because life is not symmetrical.

Forearm down. Knees bent.

Lift the hips.

Hold.

Stillness.

That’s where the work is.

You are building the lateral support system—the structures that stop the spine collapsing when you twist, reach, carry, or misstep.

Hold for as long as you can maintain good form.

Then rest.

Then repeat.

The Shift

If you do this consistently, something changes.

Not just physically.

Internally.

You stop fearing movement.

You stop second-guessing simple actions like stepping off a curb.

And you start to feel something else.

Strength.

Not just surface strength.

Bone-deep.

Structural.

Reliable.

And for someone like me, and for many people like the ones I work with, that feeling…

is everything.

Because it’s not just about the back.

It’s about getting your self back.

If that sounds good to you... why not give me a call have a chat

visit my site: www.alexwestvitality.academy