Today was supposed to be a standard long row, 10K, get in, move, reset the head. But something shifted mid-session.
10K came and went. 12K sounded doable. The hour mark was within reach… And before I knew it, I was chasing down 17,000 meters.
17,000. The furthest I’ve ever rowed in a single session.
And I’m delighted with that.
I didn’t plan it. I didn’t go in with a strategy. I just followed the rhythm, stayed present, and let it build,
until what started as a quiet mental reset turned into the longest, most committed row I’ve ever done.
A Week Worth Remembering
It’s been a hell of a week.
Fastest ever 2,000m on Monday
A high stakes presentation on Thursday (which went brilliantly)
And now this: a new distance milestone, pulled from what started as uncertainty
There’s been a lot of self-doubt recently. Work stress, pressure, tiredness, old voices creeping in. But I’ve rowed through all of it. And today, I proved to myself, again, that it’s still in me.
Meditation became a mission. The mission became mindset. And the mindset brought me here.
I’m at home now. To rest. To be with my people. To enjoy this one properly. And let it land.
Today I rowed a 7:22 for 2,000 meters, a full 7.5 seconds faster than my last test. That’s a big leap. And even though I was quietly hoping to hit 7:15, I’m genuinely proud of this.
Because this wasn’t just a fitness test, it was a headspace test.
These last few days have been heavy. Work stuff has knocked my confidence. I’ve felt jaded. Tired. The kind of mental fatigue that clings to your legs and lungs even before you’ve moved. Whoop put my recovery at 59%. And honestly, I felt it.
Part of me, the old voice, said not today. “Wait until you’re feeling better.” “Do it next week.” “Don’t make a scene. Just row easy. Skip it.”
But I needed this today. Not because I had something to prove, but because an older version of me still wants proof. Proof that the training is working. Proof that this is going somewhere. Proof that I’m not just going through the motions.
The Middle Bit—Where It Got Messy
The first 500 meters were inconsistent, too fast, too slow, couldn’t find my rhythm. Then with 800 meters to go, the real moment hit:
“Just stop.”
That voice again. Not shouting, not panicking just calmly suggesting I give up. And honestly? It was persuasive.
But I didn’t stop. I refocused. I locked into form. I listened to my breathing. And I found something there, not a burst of power, but a thread to follow.
By the time I hit the final 500 meters, my lungs were screaming. My legs were burning. The last 300 was ragged, messy, all over the place. But I held on. I kept rowing. And I crossed the line in 7:22.
The Reflection—Now That I’ve Sat With It
I’m home now. I’ve been sitting with this in the car, and I think I’m feeling a bit… sad. Or maybe it’s disappointment. I’m not quite sure.
I didn’t hit 7:15, which was the target I had in my head. And now I’m wondering; was that just the old me again? Not being realistic, not being SMART with my goals? Or was it simply that I was at 59% recovery and the tank just wasn’t full?
Either way, this session has shown me something valuable:
Breaking the 7-minute barrier isn’t just a stretch goal. It’s serious work.
And I’m still a long way from it.
Maybe that’s what I’m really sitting with, the weight of that reality. It’s not discouraging, though. Not really. If anything, it’s clarifying. I thought for a moment that I might need to change the name of the blog to“ Just a bit below The Sub-7 Experiment”, because maybe I was already knocking on the door of breaking it.
I’m not.
Not yet.
Today gave me something better than a perfect result. It gave me a new baseline. 7:22. Solid. Honest. Earned.
And that’s where the next leg of the journey begins.
It’s Friday. It’s been a long week. My WHOOP says 49% recovery. My brain says, “you’re behind.”
So I asked ChatGPT for a smart session—and it delivered: 500m rowing intervals, sled pushes, farmer’s carries. Solid, focused work.
And I enjoyed it. I really did.
But there’s something gnawing at me—and I need to write it down.
I haven’t done the core work I said I would. Holiday’s coming up in a few weeks. And the truth is… when I look down, I still see the belly. The tyre. The thing I was hoping would be gone by now.
I’ve been consistent. I’ve been disciplined. I’m rowing faster. Pulling harder. Lifting heavier. I’m wearing trousers I couldn’t fit into a while back. My shirts hug in the right places again.
I know I’m fitter. I know I’m stronger. I feel it every session.
But… I don’t see it. Not in the way I’d hoped.
And it’s messing with my head.
I think part of it is stress. Work’s intense right now. And I feel like I’m slipping into old habits—being hard on myself. Impatient. Frustrated. Beating myself up when I should be backing myself up.
I kind of thought this other work—this training, this structure—would sort everything out. That I’d look down one day and think, “There he is. That’s the guy I was aiming for.” But instead, I look down and think, “Still the same.”
The truth? That’s not true.
It’s not the same. I’m not the same.
But body image is a funny thing. It lags behind the progress. It rewrites the story. And sometimes… it just lies.
A Thought from the Shower
This morning, standing under the water, something hit me:
Is this the part of the experiment where a human coach would make a difference?
Would a real-life coach have pointed to the mat and said, “Go. Now. Do the core work.” And would I have done it—just because someone was watching?
It’s easy to ignore words on a screen. Even when those words are spot on.
But the whole point of the Sub-7 Experiment is to see if I can close that gap.
The AI can suggest the work. But I still have to choose to do it.
This isn’t failure. It’s a data point. A moment in the experiment where the mental friction is more important than the reps.
And here’s the realisation:
Consistency is easy when it’s comfortable. The real test is doing the things I’d rather avoid.
It’s Friday. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. My people are healthy. I’m healthy.
I’m making real progress—even if I can’t always see it in the mirror.
This is still the Sub-7 Experiment. And it’s about much more than rowing.
I was looking forward to trying out my new headphones at the gym—but they wouldn’t connect properly. I got flustered. Frustrated. Caught up in the tech not working.
And hovering over everything was a work situation: a conversation with my boss that I’ve been dreading. I’m pretty sure a mistake’s been made—not a massive one, but one of those frustrating, vague gaps where I should have documented something and didn’t. Now it’s fuzzy. And it’s on me.
Old me would’ve taken all that as a reason to skip the gym.
But today?
I rowed anyway.
500-meter intervals at a 1:50 pace. Low stroke rate—24 to 26. Tough, focused work.
And even with everything swirling around in my head, I stayed in it.
The gym didn’t fix the problem. It didn’t make the conversation disappear.
But it grounded me. It gave me something solid to push against. And it cleared enough space for me to walk out thinking:
“Okay. I’ve already done one hard thing today. I can handle the next one.”
And that’s what this experiment has really become.
Not just about pace. Not just about rowing.
It’s about how I show up when things get messy. It’s about handling it, instead of hiding from it. It’s about pushing through the noise.
I’ve got so much to do, I’m feeling pretty stressed about it.
So I went to the gym for a row.
A good solid row, with some slow, hard strokes and plenty of rhythm to get lost in and reflect from.
And I think it might be 16 year old me who’s panicking—the voice that says, “I have to fix this now. I have to fix it alone.
But the truth is: adult me is in charge now. And we’ve got this.
Adult me has 40 odd years of experience, the wisdom to ask for help without feeling inadequate, and there is time. All of which 16 year old me struggled with. That version of me was used to carrying things solo. But that’s not the job anymore.
Until this passes, we’ll keep talking. We’ll keep showing up to train. We’ve done this before.
Adult me has a plan. It’s time for 16 year old me to let go of the reins.
Me: “I’m in the gym and having a bit of a panic about a mistake I think I’ve made at work. Could cost tens of thousands. Can I have a grounding rowing session please, with a warm-up?”
ChatGPT: “You’re here, you’re safe, and you’re doing the right thing by getting on the rower. Let’s help bring you back to your body and breath with a grounding session that channels that anxious energy into focused, steady movement.”
Grounding Rowing Session – 45 minutes including warm-up
Warm-up (10 minutes total) • 4 mins easy row @ 20 SPM, ~2:20–2:30/500m • 3 mins @ 22 SPM, ~2:10/500m • 3 x 20-second power strokes @ 26 SPM, full pressure, with 40 seconds easy paddling between each
Main Session (30 minutes) • 3 x 7 mins @ 22 SPM, ~2:05–2:10/500m • 1 min rest between each Focus: – Breathe in on the recovery – Breathe out through the drive – Legs push, core connects, arms finish – Feel the rhythm settle your system
Finisher (5 minutes) • 2 x 250m sprints if you feel up to it — smooth and controlled • Or 5 mins of gentle paddling @ 18–20 SPM — long, calm strokes
“Let the rhythm settle you. Mistakes happen — but right now, you’re rowing. We’ll deal with the rest after.”
That’s how the session came about today. And it worked. It was grounding, strong, deliberate—and those final two sprints showed speeds that still surprise me. But what surprises me even more is that I chose to go to the gym instead of spiraling.
Old me would have been knocked sideways by this. I’d have buried my head, avoided it until the last minute—when it was probably too late or much bigger than it needed to be.
But not today. Today, training was the reset. And this experiment? It’s not just about rowing anymore.
I went for a ride on the bike yesterday—60km all in—and it felt great. What really struck me was the shift in mindset. I kept recognising where I was and thinking, “Oh, I’m here already” instead of “Oh, I’m only here.” Just a small difference in words and thoughts, but a massive one in terms of progress.
I really gelled with the bike. Getting a proper bike fit and a new saddle was such a good call. Not just because I’m now physically connected to the bike, but because it actually saved me a load of cash.
I’d been eyeing up new bikes—maybe a gravel bike, an “adventure” bike, or a racier road model. Something exciting. But the bike fit brought me back to the 11-year-old Giant I already own. And now? It feels like new. It’s as exciting to ride as I hoped it would be when I first bought it all those years ago.
I probably could’ve gone further than 60km yesterday, but I surprised myself by deciding it was a good place to stop. I didn’t push past “great ride” into “slog”—and that feels like progress, too.
I’ve got a 150km ride scheduled for September. In past long rides, I made rice cakes from a cycling nutrition book. To be honest, I couldn’t face them again. So before the ride, I asked ChatGPT for fuelling strategies and a few recipe ideas.
I tried one of its banana oat bar suggestions, and aside from a few flavour tweaks and a more refined fuelling schedule, they worked really well.
This is good. I’m pleased with how the bike is performing. I’m pleased with how I’m performing. And the rowing is complementing the cycling beautifully.
It’s going to be a good summer—training to break the 7-minute rowing barrier and getting ready for that 150km.
First: my back was a little sore when I woke up, but I still wanted to get to the gym. I know I probably won’t get another session in this weekend, so I asked ChatGPT for a distance row. The plan was smart: a gentle 1,000m warm-up, then three blocks of 3,000m, gradually building the pace. After each 3K, I’d check in with my back and decide whether to continue or stop.
And I did exactly that.
That’s what stood out to me first—not the workout itself, but the fact I actually listened. I followed the advice instead of charging ahead like I might have in the past and avoided turning a sore back into something worse.
The second thing? A subtle but surprising mindset shift.
At my gym, there are two rowers side by side. I always use the one on the right. Midway through my first 3K, I noticed a guy eyeing the rowers from the static bike. No problem—he disappeared somewhere else.
But just as I was about to start my final 3K, he came back. He sat down next to me with a bit of a flourish, cranked the damper to 10, and launched into it.
Old me? I’d have taken that as a challenge. Tried to match him stroke for stroke. Maybe even tried to bury him.
New me? I had a plan. And I stuck to it.
I held 27 strokes per minute at a steady 1:59/500m. I kept my rhythm. He was at 34 strokes per minute, burning calories fast but looking all over the place. When he hit 1,000m, I was at 1,500. When he stopped at 2,000m, I was passing 2,800.
I didn’t break form. I didn’t chase. I just rowed.
It would be easy to say I had an advantage—after all, I’m training for this. But what I’m most proud of is the restraint. The shift in mindset. I didn’t let ego take over. I didn’t go looking for a moment of glory. I followed the plan. I trusted it.
And that, more than the numbers, is what progress looks like to me.
The Sub-7 Experiment 