It’s been a busy couple of days, especially with that 75km bike ride on Sunday. Looking back, maybe I should have paid closer attention to my recovery score that day, too—Whoop had me at 66%. Not terrible, but still yellow. I went out and did the mammoth ride anyway.
Lesson learned: these recovery scores are there for a reason. Sometimes, it really is worth listening.
Today I was planning to go to the gym, but I checked the Whoop score and thought, “Maybe I should actually ask ChatGPT what to do.” The answer? Take a walk and do some light core work. So that’s what I did—and I feel much better for it.
I’m glad I didn’t push it. Old me would have ignored the warning signs and gone full tilt, probably ending up worse off. But this version stopped, asked, and listened.
We’ll see what the Whoop score says tomorrow. Just another data point to factor in.
This is the Sub-7 Experiment—and every day is a school day.
Just back from a tough but rewarding ride; 75km out and back, with 1,220 meters of climbing. No loops, no shortcuts, just there and back, with a headwind all the way home. It was tougher than I remembered: the kind of ride that demands your full attention, your legs, and most of your patience.
What made a real difference this time was the fueling. I spent yesterday making banana flapjacks and cheesy eggy rice cakes (shout-out to ChatGPT for the recipes and fuelling strategy). They worked. I didn’t feel nearly as wrecked as I normally do on a ride like this. I still had something left at the end. I probably could’ve used more water, but I stopped about two-thirds through yo top up my bottles and to see me home.
The legs are well and truly cooked now, but in that good, earned way. Possibly not helped by Thursday’s 135kg leg presses, probably not the smartest prep, but lesson learned.
This was my longest ride of the year, and while it wasn’t easy, I’m pleased with it. There’s satisfaction in pushing through, seeing that distance logged, and knowing you got it done.
So that’s today’s entry in the Sub-7 Experiment—which, as I keep discovering, is about far more than rowing. It’s about effort. Growth. Trying. Failing. Learning. And showing up again tomorrow.
Not sure what’s up today—this is the third time I’ve tried to do this. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the app, maybe I just keep hitting the wrong button. Whatever. Let’s call this one off the cuff, because that’s exactly how it feels.
The important bit: another good session.
Strong. Organised. Full-on. Bit of rowing, bit of weights. Finished with a couple of fast 250m sprints, let the engine rip, felt solid.
Keys went in the box again. That’s becoming a habit now. Quiet statement, every time: I’m here. I belong.
It’s Friday. The weekend starts now. That’s all I’ve got. Just a check-in. Job done.
Another session done. A good one, structured, focused on weight and power. Felt great. There is a different buzz after a weights session. Not the same as after a long row, maybe it’s different feel good chemicals in the brain, but it’s definitely a different kind of energy. I walked out feeling invigorated.
A couple of small but important wins today.
First, the gym was empty. No waiting, no worrying, just me and the weights. It felt like I had my own private setup.
Second, and this might sound silly, I hung my car keys up.
There’s a little box with hooks by the gym door. All the big lads hang their keys there as they walk in. I’ve always noticed it. Today, my long-sleeve shirt didn’t have pockets, so I had nowhere else to put my keys. But instead of clinging to them or finding a workaround, I put them in the box. It felt weirdly significant, a quiet statement: I belong here too.
Who knows, maybe those other guys are just as insecure as I sometimes feel, only better at hiding it behind bravado. But for once, that wasn’t my concern.
Another shift I’ve noticed lately: I’m prepping with Coach GPT the night before. Not just turning up and winging it, but actively thinking about what I want to do, how I want to feel, what works and what doesn’t. I’ll swap out exercises if needed, so by the time I wake up, I’ve already mentally walked into the gym. It’s a big change, and it feels like progress.
There’s still plenty going on, year end looming and all that, but today’s win was quiet and personal. Keys in the box. That’ll do.
Just out of the gym—had a really good session. I’m well-pleased with myself after last week’s 17,000-metre row on Saturday (that’s 10.5 miles, by the way!) and my 7:22 2K test on Monday.
I thought it was time to switch things up a bit, since I’m going on holiday in a month. Still keeping an eye on rowing and that sub-seven goal, but I’m adding more weights now. I’m in the gym every day, and I’m getting so much out of it—not just physically, but mentally. That’s honestly the biggest takeaway so far: how much more grounded I feel, and how much better I am at dealing with things that used to derail me. The little things still pop up, but they don’t spin me out anymore.
So yeah, still rowing—but now the weights are for me. Really for me. Why not work towards looking and feeling better by the pool, having a bit more confidence? I’m 55, not old, not saggy—still got plenty of life left. I refuse to be old. That’s not delusional, it’s just that I see too many people just stop, and I’m not going to be one of them.
I’m particularly proud today because I went to the gym much later than usual—missed my normal window between the early and midday crowds. I was already half-talking myself out of doing anything except the rower (the “big dark cave” of the weights area is still intimidating). But today, I went in. Other people were there, but I still did it. I’m a long way from feeling at home in there, but it’s getting better.
Honestly, I’m delighted. This is the next phase. It started today. ChatGPT came up with a brilliant plan and I executed it. I’m chuffed to bits.
Now: time for lunch and back to work. Just wanted to share that with you—hopefully you’re as excited as I am, because I feel great.
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.
The Sub-7 Experiment 