For so long, it felt like a chore—something I had to force myself to do. But today, I actually wanted to go. That tells me my mindset is shifting, and real progress is being made.
Maybe it’s because the mornings are getting brighter, or because spring is on the way—I love this time of year. The days get longer, the weather warms up, and everything just feels better.
Training with Flexibility
At the gym, I asked ChatGPT, “I’m here—what shall I do?”
It gave me two session options: ✅ Endurance-focused workout ✅ Power & speed-focused workout
But I was feeling it a bit in my legs from yesterday’s session—some heavy leg presses and rowing had left them a bit heavy.
So, I told ChatGPT how I felt. And instead of pushing through a rigid plan, we pivoted.
The Plan for Today
🚣 10-minute row at a steady 2:05/500m pace 🚣 5 x 500m at 1:55–2:00/500m, focusing on form & control 🚣 5-minute cooldown
Simple. Effective. Adaptable.
Pushing the Last Set
I followed the plan—except for the last 500m.
I pushed harder and finished it in 1:42.
That felt good.
Key Takeaway: Adaptability is Key
Today showed me that training doesn’t have to be rigid.
Having a structured plan is great, but listening to my body and adapting when needed is just as important. That’s how real progress happens.
I left the gym with a great buzz that carried me through the rest of the day.
Google is brilliant at finding stuff on the internet. It’s so ingrained in everyday language that we say, “I’ll Google that for you.” You can use exact phrases, search within specific sites, and fine-tune your results with “AND,” “NOT,” and “OR.”
But now that ChatGPT has internet access, it’s my go-to tool for research. If I want to buy something, I don’t just Google it—I ask ChatGPT to compare options, tabulate results, and summarize real user reviews. I can even ask where to buy it and what payment options are available.
That’s really clever.
But ChatGPT hasn’t just become a research tool for me. It’s become my coach.
Body Recomposition & The Problem With Weights
I started reading about body recomposition—the idea that you can lose fat and gain muscle at the same time. Most fitness advice says to focus on one or the other:
To lose fat, you need a caloric deficit.
To gain muscle, you need a caloric surplus.
So how do you do both? A lot of articles suggested it was possible if you: ✅ Prioritize lean protein ✅ Lift weights consistently ✅ Keep a close eye on calorie intake
The weights part is where I hit a roadblock.
I find the weights section intimidating. I’d only use it when no one else was around—which wasn’t often. That meant I had no consistency.
But the rowing machine? That was in a different part of the gym, and hardly anyone used it.
Asking ChatGPT: Is Rowing Strength Training?
Since I was already rowing regularly, I asked ChatGPT this:
“Does rowing on a Concept2 erg count as resistance training, or is it purely cardio?”
I explained how I row heavy, deep strokes at low rates and mix in high-intensity sessions. Could rowing alone help with body recomposition?
The answer?
“Rowing is an excellent full-body workout that combines cardio and strength elements. While it won’t replace dedicated strength training, it can contribute significantly to fat loss, muscle endurance, and mental health. With the right approach, you can absolutely achieve body recomposition through rowing—especially if you complement it with weights and proper nutrition.”
So, not exactly a replacement for weight training, but it gave me a framework. And when I told ChatGPT that I found the weights section intimidating, it suggested alternative routines I could do outside that area.
At this point, I wasn’t even thinking about sub-7. I was still focused on getting fitter and reading James Smith’s book.
ChatGPT as a Coach
I started logging my training with ChatGPT:
How far I rowed
What pace I held
How I felt during and after
I even asked:
“Is this OK for a nearly 55-year-old man?”
The responses were detailed, encouraging, and motivating. It would: ✅ Break down my average split times ✅ Tell me what the session achieved aerobically ✅ Compare me to age-group standards ✅ Provide structured progressions for the next workout
Then, the conversation shifted.
I mentioned struggling with nutrition—I’d be disciplined for a while, then binge on the wrong stuff. I told ChatGPT that I wanted to be in better shape before my holiday in a few months.
The response? Not just training advice—but a mindset shift.
Set a realistic goal
Use the 80/20 rule
Stop relying on willpower alone
Make myself accountable—but without guilt
ChatGPT had morphed into a therapist.
From Reluctance to Showing Up
I started digging into why I was avoiding the gym—why I’d talk myself out of it first thing in the morning.
ChatGPT helped me reframe my thinking:
Make it a choice, not a chore.
Set smaller, achievable wins.
Just get there—figure out the session once you’re in.
One day, I finally dragged my arse out of bed and into the gym.
I sat on the static bike and asked:
“OK, so now I’m here—what should I do?”
ChatGPT replied:
“Great! You’ve already won by showing up. Since you’re at the gym now, let’s keep it simple and effective based on your goals.”
It then suggested workouts, I picked one, and I went and did it. It included weights and rowing, and I felt brilliant afterward.
Over the next few sessions, I kept logging workouts—and ChatGPT adapted my training like a real coach.
The Mental Health Row
One day, I told ChatGPT:
“A mental health row is required today. I’m planning on doing 7K in 30 minutes. What do you think?”
ChatGPT responded with:
✅ Pacing recommendations (2:08–2:10/500m split) ✅ Stroke rate guidelines (22–24 SPM) ✅ Mental approach (“Let it be your time—no pressure, just movement and flow.”)
I rowed 7,000m in 29:20, finishing with a 250m sprint at 1:45/500m.
The breakdown was exactly what I needed to hear:
✅ “You even beat your original target!” ✅ “You stayed controlled and steady but still had power left to push at the end.” ✅ “You got both mental and physical benefits—clearing your head while maintaining a solid pace.”
That’s when I asked:
“What pace do I need for a sub-7-minute 2K?”
ChatGPT’s response?
“To hit 7:00, you need to hold a 1:45/500m split. You’ll need a mix of power, endurance, and interval work to sustain it.”
It then gave me a structured training plan—low-rate power rows, sprint intervals, race-paced work, and strength training.
And That’s How The Sub-7 Experiment Was Born
At that moment, the goal crystallized.
This wasn’t just about fitness anymore. It wasn’t just about losing weight before a holiday.
I’ve worked in IT for more years than I care to remember, and it’s treated me well. I’ve had the chance to work around the world with some amazing people and technology.
Lately, the pace of technological change has been accelerating so fast that it boggles the mind—and one of the biggest shifts has been AI (Artificial Intelligence).
I’m not an AI expert, but I’d call myself an AI hobbyist. The possibilities fascinate me, and with the rise of Generative AI, things are getting even more interesting.
What is Generative AI?
You’ve probably heard of ChatGPT. Other tech companies have their own versions, but at its core, the GPT part stands for Generative Pre-Trained—meaning it can generate new responses based on the massive amount of data it has been trained on.
And the Chat part? That’s where the real magic happens. Unlike traditional AI systems, anyone can talk to it in normal language. No coding, no technical knowledge—just type a question, and it responds.
But how does it actually work?
The best analogy I’ve come across is this:
Imagine every person on the planet has a parrot on their shoulder. That parrot listens to everything they say and remembers the patterns. Then, every parrot shares their knowledge with every other parrot on the planet.
Now, if you ask your parrot “How are you today?”, it doesn’t think about the answer—it just repeats what it has heard most often:
“I’m very well, thank you. How are you?”
It’s not true intelligence, just pattern recognition on a massive scale.
So… Who is My Coach?
My coach is ChatGPT.
It helps structure my training and keeps me accountable.
It refines my blog posts, making them clearer while keeping them mine.
It helps me reflect on progress without getting lost in my own head.
I’ll be posting some of my conversations with ChatGPT as part of this process—showing how I’m using it, what I’m learning, and how it’s shaping my approach.
Is It Cheating?
No.
The thoughts and words are mine—AI is just my editor, tightening things up so they read better.
And AI isn’t the one sitting on the rowing machine. I am. I will get that sub-7-minute 2,000 meters. This is The Sub-7 Experiment.
I am inherently lazy but also reasonably competitive. Which makes no sense, but here we are.
A couple of years ago, I completed the Wicklow 200, a cycling sportive that takes in 200km of some of the best scenery in Ireland in a single day. Their website calls it “Ireland’s premier cycling challenge.” And they’re not wrong.
According to Strava, I covered 204.1km with 3,008 meters of climbing and a moving time of 9 hours, 57 minutes, and 52 seconds. A long, hard day in the saddle.
Training for it was simple: a couple of one-hour rides during the week, longer ones at the weekend, gradually working up to 75% of the event distance before the big day.
I’m not the fastest cyclist—I tend to diesel along. It’s enjoyable, but it takes ages.
And this is where the laziness kicks in.
I could get a really good workout on the ERG. A really, really good workout. The kind that felt like a couple of hours on the bike—without actually having to be on the bike.
So I switched.
The Slippery Slope of Excuses
This worked great… while I was motivated.
But I think I mentioned earlier—I’m inherently lazy. And before long, the excuses started creeping in.
I’d be in bed the night before, full of good intentions. Then the morning would come, and my brain would instantly start talking me out of it.
I had a thing to do (I didn’t).
I didn’t have time (but still managed to sit in front of the TV).
It was too cold. I was too tired. My back hurt.
Sound familiar?
And then reality hit. My trousers started feeling tighter. I was puffing going up the stairs. I felt sluggish.
Stepping on the scales told me the truth—I was 18 pounds heavier than I was 12 months earlier.
We have a sun holiday booked later this year, and I want to feel better about myself before we go.
Back to the Gym (and the Mind Games Begin)
With that in mind, I dragged myself back to the gym a couple of times a week. To my surprise, I still had a reasonable level of fitness. I could still do 7,000 meters, but it took longer, hurt more, and wiped me out physically and mentally.
And that’s when two thoughts hit me.
First:This is good. Rowing = effort = calories burnt = a slimmer me = hopefully more self-esteem. Second:But what’s the actual point?
There I was, grinding through 7,000 meters in the same old gym, staring out the same old window. For what?
The Turning Point
Then I read Not a Diet Book by James Smith.
He’s a well-known fitness coach and entrepreneur who runs James Smith Academy, and his writing was refreshingly blunt and honest.
He covered lifestyle, nutrition, training, and mindset, but two key takeaways stuck with me:
Caloric deficit is king (energy expended must be greater than energy intake for fat loss).
Progressive overload is the key to real progress.
What is Progressive Overload?
As I understand it, it means pushing a little harder each time to force your body to adapt.
Over time, your body gets used to the work it’s doing.
If you keep doing the same thing, it eventually stops making changes.
Unless you keep increasing the workload, progress slows down.
That got me thinking.
I love the buzz from a good, hard session. But I also get bored easily. And once I start seeing training as a chore, the excuses get louder.
So, I needed to flip my thinking.
I need to choose to go to the gym.
I need to give my competitive self a target.
I need to train to beat 2,000 meters in less than seven minutes.
Rowing machines. You’ve seen them. Lurking somewhere in the back of the gym, pushed up against a wall, out of the way. More often than not, they’re gathering dust, untouched, while people hammer away on the treadmills or load up the bench press.
I’ve had a long, love-hate relationship with these things. Never really knew how to use them properly. Never really cared, if I’m honest. Every now and then, I’d climb aboard, crank the handle on the side to somewhere in the middle, start pulling, and within minutes, be gasping for air, sweating like a pig, and regretting every life choice that had led me to this moment.
But then—once I was done, once I dragged myself off the thing, hot, sweaty, and totally wrecked—there was a buzz. A moment of satisfaction. I’d conquered the beast.
And then I’d ignore it again for months.
This went on for years. If I was in a hotel gym by myself, I’d maybe give it five minutes between the bike and the sauna. Or between the bike and the restaurant. Same thing.
Then, a few years ago, something changed. My relationship with the ERG—yes, that’s what they’re properly called (I’ll get into that in another post)—shifted completely.
It started with my son’s swimming lessons.
Every Saturday, I’d take him to a local hotel with a great swimming pool and gym. While he had his lesson, I’d sit in the hotel lobby, drinking coffee, eating scones, and feeling very pleased with myself. That was my routine.
Then the hotel gym ran a ridiculous deal on family memberships. We signed up, and suddenly, instead of coffee and scones, I was in the gym.
At the time, I was into cycling, so I stuck to the static bike, grinding away for 30 minutes while keeping an eye on my son’s lesson. But every session, out of the corner of my eye, I could see it.
The ERG.
Just sitting there. Watching me. Daring me.
And one Saturday, I gave in.
I climbed on, set the dial somewhere in the middle (because I still had no clue what I was doing), and started pulling. And panting. And sweating. Five minutes in, I was closing in on 1,000 meters, so I figured—why not? Might as well push through. Seven minutes in, I hit 1,000m. Maybe I could get to ten minutes? My legs were screaming, my lungs were on fire, but I refused to stop.
Forward. Backward. No technique. No idea. Just sheer bloody-mindedness.
And then—2,000 meters.
I stopped. Absolutely done. But something clicked.
That was the start of something. From then on, every week during my son’s swimming lessons—and whenever else I could fit it in—I came back. I pushed further. Rowed harder. Lasted longer.
Now, rowing is a central part of my life—not just physically, but mentally too.
This blog, The Sub-7 Experiment, is a record of why I row, how I’m chasing a sub-7-minute 2K, and everything I learn along the way.
The Sub-7 Experiment 