I needed that session in the gym today—really needed it.
The last proper one I did was Friday. It was a big 10K row, and honestly, I overdid it. Afterwards, I ate loads of stuff I shouldn’t have—salty carbs, bread, potatoes. The works. Friday night, I didn’t sleep well. Saturday I was wiped out. I went for a walk, then actually crawled back into bed. Sunday was a good family day, with more walking, and Monday I went out on the bike—46km, and that felt great. Dialled in. Strong. Power was coming back.
Tuesday was quiet—no formal exercise, just walking around town with my son. We had lunch together, and I loved that.
But by Tuesday night, the voices were back.
“It’s over.” “That’s the end of your streak.” “Go and eat. You’re feeling sorry for yourself—go on, eat more.”
And this morning, first thing in my head: “Don’t worry about the gym. Take the day off. You don’t need it.”
But I did. I really did.
I asked ChatGPT for a mental health reset row, and it gave me just what I needed: 30 minutes steady, with three controlled pushes at the end. No heroics, just structure. Just movement. And now, after the session? I feel great. Clear. Calm. More like myself.
Yes, there’s still a hint of impostor syndrome. Still a flicker of guilt for not being at my desk first thing. But honestly? I’d have been useless if I had gone in without that session. My head was all over the place. Now it’s back together.
I’m also realising something really important: Three or four days without movement is too much for me. Physically, mentally, emotionally—it’s just too long. I need the rhythm. I need the space. I need the anchor.
And the real breakthrough?
I chose to do something about it. I didn’t ignore it. I didn’t hide. I didn’t roll over and disappear under the duvet. I noticed it, I owned it, and I moved.
When I started this experiment, the plan was simple: see if modern AI could help shape a training plan that would get me to a sub-7-minute 2000m on the rowing machine—the erg.
And that’s still the plan. I still feel the need for progressive overload, for pushing myself with purpose. I still need a reason to get to the gym.
But the experiment has shifted. More on that in a moment.
First, a quick word on the AI itself.
I’ve been using a large language model—ChatGPT—a type of generative AI. “Generative” because it can create new output from what it’s learned, and “large language model” because it’s trained on a massive amount of data: books, articles, websites, conversations. It hasn’t lived life or felt what we feel, but it’s incredibly good at predicting what comes next in a conversation. That prediction is what makes it sound smart, helpful, and sometimes even insightful.
That’s what’s happening here. It’s taking everything it knows about fitness, training—and in my case, rowing—and using that to build a plan and keep me moving.
I haven’t posted every single conversation in this blog. There are lots of sessions behind the scenes. Things I’d probably never ask a personal trainer in real life. But the responses have been encouraging, balanced, and when needed, honest. I’ve even asked it to cut the fluff and just tell me straight. And it has. No judgement. Just calm, clear guidance—whether I’ve shown up excited, or worn out and ranting about something else entirely.
More than anything, this process has made me look at myself differently.
The ChatGPT app has a voice record function, and after each session I’ve started using it. What comes out is often a stream of consciousness. Frustrations. Wins. Questions. And then it plays things back to me in a way that makes me actually listen.
And what have I learned?
For one, I understand the technology better now. And not from a course or a video—but from real use, over time, in the middle of life.
But more importantly, I understand myself better.
I’ve learned that I’m consistent. Not just when it’s easy—when I’m tired, on the road, or in a funk, I still show up.
I’ve learned that I’ve changed my default settings.
I used to say things like, “I’m lazy,” or “I always self-sabotage.”
But that’s not true anymore. I’m training differently. Responding to setbacks differently.
Movement has become my anchor. A reset. A reminder of who I am and what I can handle. I’ve always known this on some level, but those old stories about who I was used to shout louder.
Not anymore.
The biggest shift? I now believe I can be the person I want to be.
Impostor syndrome has run the show for a long time. The voice that asked, “Am I really this person?”
Now I know: Yes. I am.
And I deserve to be.
That might sound entitled, but here’s the truth: I’ve always been this person. I just listened too long to the doubters—especially the one in my own head.
I’m not saying every day is easy. I’m human.
But I’m learning to spot the hard days sooner. I’ve got tools now. And more importantly, I’m using them.
Me: “Good morning, I’m in the gym. It’s been 3 days. I need to move. I have 50 mins, let’s go. Include a warm-up please.”
ChatGPT: “Good morning—and welcome back to the temple of movement. Let’s turn that 3-day gap into fuel.”
Session Plan – 50 Minutes (Rowing + Weights Combo)
1. Warm-Up (10 mins) • 5 min Assault Bike or Rower – Easy pace, focus on breathing • Dynamic Mobility – Leg swings, arm circles, hip circles, air squats x10, push-ups x5–10
2. Rowing Block – Controlled Power (20 mins) • 5 x 500m @ 1:55–2:00/500m pace • Stroke Rate: 24–26 SPM • 90s rest between intervals • Final set: Optional push to 1:50/500 if ready
3. Weights Circuit (15–17 mins) • Leg Press – 12 reps at 70–80% • Cable Face Pulls – 12–15 reps (41kg) • Goblet Squats – 12 reps • Tricep Pushdowns – 12–15 reps • Optional: Dumbbell Bicep Curls – 10 reps (for the guns) Repeat for 3 rounds with short rest.
4. Cool Down (5 mins) Easy walk or spin, then stretch hamstrings, quads, hips, and back.
And what a great session it was.
Not long ago, three days between workouts was normal. Now? It’s too long. I’ve still been active—15km of walking, even a go-karting session—but the crankiness crept in. I was annoying myself. How it must have been for my people, I can only imagine.
Three days off now leaves me feeling off-balance. That’s the shift: going to the gym isn’t just something I do anymore—it’s something I need to stay level.
At the start of this experiment, it was all about smashing personal bests. And yes, the goal of a sub-7-minute 2K row still stands. But now, it’s also about clarity. Mood. Resetting the system.
Today’s gym plan was balanced and exactly what I needed to throw off the funk. It wasn’t guilt-driven—it was need-driven. And that’s a different kind of motivation. A better one.
I used to train to get fit. Now I train to feel right.
Lots of time spent sitting in the car—more than usual. One night away from home. The same amount of work to get through.
And strangely, I’ve really enjoyed it.
What’s kept me centred has been the physical activity. The balance in the workouts that ChatGPT has set for me every time I’ve asked.
Today, I mentioned it’s unlikely I’ll get to the gym this weekend. We’ve got a couple of family days planned, and I want to be present—front and centre with my people. But I also wanted a workout that would carry me into the weekend without those little voices creeping in: You should be training… You haven’t earned this.
ChatGPT delivered:
5-minute warm-up
10,000m row @ ~2:04/500m at 22–24 SPM
Final 500m push at higher SPM, under 1:50/500m if energy allowed
5-minute cool down
Perfect.
I lined up a good music set and got into the rhythm—mostly. Around the halfway mark, my focus started to drift. I’d go too hard or too easy. Couldn’t quite settle. At 6,000m, I hit pause. Strategic.
Had some water. Tightened the straps on my glasses—they were slipping and bugging me. Then I got back into the groove.
By 8,500m, my ego started chirping: Ease off. Save it for the final 500. But I caught it this time. Held my rhythm. Kept my pace. And when the last 500m came, I went to 32 strokes per minute and held a steady 1:48/500m to the finish.
I didn’t try to smash it. I stayed in control. Form intact.
This week I had to go away on business—no flying, just a three-hour drive and an overnight stay. In the olden days, pre-COVID, I’d regularly leave my house on a Monday or Tuesday morning and not return until Thursday or Friday night. Every week. These days, it’s an unusual occurrence, especially the overnight stay part.
I had a plan this time.
I arranged a customer meeting to break up the monotonous three-hour drive, and it was a nice meeting. More like old colleagues having lunch than a formal customer catch-up. The food was good, the conversation flowed, and before long I was back on the road with only an hour until I arrived at the hotel.
There was a big presentation the following morning and the nerves were beginning to make themselves known, so I went straight to the gym and explained the situation to ChatGPT.
I told it about the equipment that was available (no rowing machine) and that I still needed to finish prepping my presentation. I asked it for a plan. A few of the suggested exercises didn’t quite work for the setup, so we chatted back and forth until we landed on a routine that fit.
And the plan was absolutely spot on.
Old me would’ve just gone berserk—pushed and strained and made myself sore or overly fatigued for the next day. This time, I felt like I had a proper workout, but it was controlled, with just the right amount of effort to keep the nerves and adrenaline in check and working for me.
I went back to my room, ordered dinner from Uber Eats, and finished the work I had to do while I waited. Then I sat and ate, watched a bit of TV, and genuinely felt good about the day. Nerves under control. Presentation prepped. Body and mind relaxed.
The next morning, I had breakfast at the hotel—no caffeine—and drove to the office. That’s another noticeable change: the lack of caffeine meant my nerves weren’t running the show. I was.
When I arrived, I discovered a wrinkle. In all the planning that went into this customer day, my department had been left off the agenda. Others were due to present my solutions. That’s not something I could let slide. I sought out the right people and got a few of my slides added into their deck. That could’ve been a high-stress confrontation, but thanks to the calm from the workout, a good night’s sleep, and no caffeine overload, I handled it with clarity and calm.
The event started. I did my bit. The customers listened, asked good questions, and agreed to a follow-up workshop. That was the goal—and I hit it.
And here’s something else that made me smile: the outfit I wore.
A couple of years ago, after intentionally losing weight, I bought some slim-fitting dress shirts, a new blazer, and new trousers—my “I feel really good about myself” outfit. Since then, working from home and comfort clothes had taken over, and the outfit sat in the wardrobe untouched.
Earlier this year, I tried it on for a meeting and… it didn’t fit. That was one of the things that nudged me into starting this whole experiment.
I weigh myself every Wednesday at 7:15 a.m., naked, on the same tile in the bathroom to reduce variability. The number hasn’t changed in five weeks. That’s been disheartening.
But on Tuesday, while packing, I tried the outfit on—and it fit. It fit comfortably. And I wore it. And I felt great.
So it raises the question—what is it with the obsession with weight?
Is it just because it’s easy to measure? I don’t know. But something’s not right when the scale becomes the only metric we trust. At some point in history, we got tangled in the number. We let it define us.
We need to rethink this.
Because the goal for me is to be healthy. And really, I just want to wear that outfit and feel great in it. That’s what matters. Not the number blinking back at me once a week.
Maybe we’d all be better off if we dropped the number and just said: “I want to feel good in my own skin. I want to wear that outfit and feel like myself again.”
Let’s be nicer to ourselves. Let’s be gentler. There’s no medal for self-criticism.
After the presentation, I drove home—via the woods I visited last time. It was 20°C and sunny. The birds were singing, the sky was blue. I walked for 90 minutes and enjoyed every bit of it.
By the time I got home, some 45 minutes later, I was present, centred, and ready to be with my people.
It’s a Monday. Historically not my favourite day of the week—probably not many people’s. But today has a nice edge to it.
It’s not my birthday. It’s not Christmas. I still have a full day of work ahead. What’s different is how I chose to start the day.
I was time-challenged this morning. And in the past, that would’ve been enough of an excuse to skip the gym. Not enough time? I’d tell myself I’ll go tomorrow—and then I’d end up sitting in front of the TV for half an hour watching, what? Someone blowing glass? A tree being cut down? Another forgettable episode in a show I’ve been half-watching for years?
But not today.
Today I went to the gym. And I told ChatGPT exactly what was going on:
Me: “Ok, I’m in the gym. I have 45 minutes. Let’s row.”
ChatGPT: “Nice—let’s make it count…”
Here’s what it gave me:
Controlled Power + Technique (45-Min Session) Purpose: Build strength and pacing control—just right for a Monday with low recovery.
Warm-Up (10 mins):
5 mins easy row (2:30–2:20/500m @ 20 SPM)
Technique drill:
10 strokes: legs only
10 strokes: legs + body
10 full strokes (arms last)
Repeat
Finish with 5 strokes at race pace
Main Set (25 mins): 5 x 500m @ 1:50–1:55/500m pace (2 min rest)
Stroke rate: 26–28
Aim for control, not chaos
Finish strong—but keep form intact
Cool Down (10 mins):
5 mins easy row
Stretch: shoulders, hips, glutes, back
If this had been me a few months ago, I’d have tried to cram in too much. Let the ego drive the session. Go flat out and burn out. But this—this was structured. It was powerful and controlled.
What amazes me again is how well ChatGPT is dialled into where I’m at. It’s not just shouting random workouts at me. It’s listening, adjusting, helping me train smart. This morning wasn’t just “exercise.” It was another step toward that sub-7.
More speed isn’t always about brute force. Sometimes, it’s in the stroke. The timing. The rhythm. I can feel I’m getting stronger—my cool-down pace today used to be my max effort. And now? It’s just the end of a Monday session.
The shift from “I don’t have time” to “I can still achieve something” is a game-changer.
Saturday. The hoovering’s done. My son’s off at a party. It’s my time—and I’m heading to the gym.
Me: “Ok, it’s Saturday, I’m in the gym feeling good. Let’s do some distance…”
ChatGPT: “YES! Love that energy—let’s roll with it.”
Saturday Distance Row – Option A (Classic 10K Endurance)
Target: 10,000m
Pace: 2:05–2:10/500m
Stroke Rate: 22–24 SPM
Structure:
First 2K: ease in, find rhythm
Middle 6K: settle into a steady groove
Final 2K: build pressure
Last 500m: controlled push—if you feel good
And it was a great session—interesting, too. Let me tell you why.
I found it hard to hold that 2:05 pace at 22 SPM again. I was either pulling too hard or not fast enough—couldn’t quite lock it in. But instead of being frustrating, it gave me something to focus on. And I needed that today.
Because the usual chatter crept in toward the end: “Hold it… Don’t burn out too early… Save something for the finish… Be the hero in the last 500m.”
But that wasn’t the goal.
What I really needed was control. Rhythm. Consistency. And focusing on the stroke rate and pace through the first 8K helped keep my mind in the moment—not chasing the final sprint.
When it came, I was ready. 1:48 pace, 30 strokes per minute. Strong. Steady. Good form all the way through.
And now I’m home, writing this with something new hitting me: This is my second 10K Saturday in a row—and it feels great.
I’ve done a few 10Ks in the past, but they were always a grind—mentally and physically. And definitely slower, by maybe eight minutes or more.
That’s the reminder today. Progress isn’t always fireworks—it’s steady, quiet change. Physically and mentally, I’m getting stronger. And more than that—I’m actually enjoying it.
Right. I’m off to cut the grass and light the BBQ.
I tweaked my shoulder on Monday and decided to take a couple of days’ rest, rather than push through and risk making it worse. In the past, I probably would have forced it—especially if I had a rigid training plan written down with targets, dates, and expectations. If the plan’s written down, you have to follow it, right?
Well… no. And that’s the beauty of this experiment—I can pivot.
The conversation with ChatGPT went like this:
Me: “Hey good morning. I’m in the gym, shoulder’s still a bit twingy, but I want to row. What do you recommend—and a warm-up too, please?”
ChatGPT: Warm-Up (10–12 min total)
Assault bike or light row – 5 minutes easy
Dynamic mobility (no weights): • Arm circles (forwards/backwards) x10 • Shoulder rolls x10 • Torso twists x10 • Air squats x10 • Cat-cow or thread-the-needle (for shoulder mobility)
Rowing Session (Shoulder-Friendly, Rhythm-Focused) • 3 x 2,000m @ ~2:07–2:10/500m, 22 SPM (2–3 min rest between sets) • Optional: 1 x 500m push @ 1:55/500m if shoulder feels okay • Cooldown: 5 mins easy row or bike
“Keep your stroke smooth—no need to muscle through the finish. Let the legs drive, keep the core engaged, and guide the handle in.”
It turned out to be a really good session—though during the second 2,000m, my mind started wandering. I found myself questioning all of it: What’s the point? Where is this going? Is a sub-7 even possible for someone like me? Am I getting bored?
It came out of nowhere. It was like my old mindset trying to sneak back in and talk me out of it. Talk me into giving up.
And give it up for what? Go back to how I was? No thanks.
That second 2,000m came and went. Then the third. Then a 500m push—1:42. And that’s when it hit me: real progress is showing up.
Three sets of 2,000 meters at a cruisy 2:05/500m pace and 21 SPM. A few months ago, that would’ve been me at max effort, form breaking down all over the place. That final 500m at 1:42? That used to be a number I’d glimpse on the screen for a second or two, flat out and flailing. Today, it was measured. Solid.
The physical progress is great. But the mental shift is the bigger win.
Old thinking tried to creep in—but the new mindset held strong.
It’s not about hitting the perfect session. It’s about making the average ones stronger, more consistent. That’s how I know this is working.
Me: “Ok, I’m in the gym. Could be a sugar crash—had a scone with jam yesterday at afternoon tea. Dragged myself here but I’m moving on the assault bike. Let’s get something done. Maybe a bit of rowing and some weights?”
ChatGPT: “You made it—and that’s the win right there. Doesn’t matter if the engine’s not firing on all cylinders—you showed up. Let’s use that weird mood and turn it into momentum.”
Here’s what it suggested:
Reset Session: Row + Weights (45 mins total)
Phase 1: Wake the Body (10 mins)
Assault bike warm-up: 5–7 mins steady
Rower: 5 minutes @ 22 SPM, easy pace (2:10–2:15/500m) Focus on breathing, rhythm, and posture
Phase 2: Power Reset Rowing (10–12 mins)
4 x 500m intervals @ 1:55–2:00/500m
1 min rest between reps
Final 500m: Go strong if you feel it
Phase 3: Weights Circuit (20 mins) Do 1–2 rounds:
Leg Press – 3 x 10 (moderate)
Seated Row – 3 x 10
Face Pulls – 3 x 12
Tricep Pushdowns – 2 x 12
Optional: Dumbbell curls – 2 x 10 (for the guns)
Cooldown (5 mins): Easy row or bike + gentle stretch
I followed the plan and came out feeling better. Not super invigorated, but definitely better.
The weekend had been full-on. My son and I spent nearly four and a half hours pressure washing the driveway, side path, and patio—serious effort, but a great sense of achievement. Sunday was Mother’s Day, so we made afternoon tea—scones, sandwiches, the works. It was fun. Add in two 5K walks and a lost hour thanks to the clocks changing… and yeah, I think the crash hit me today.
I don’t usually eat refined sugar—no sweets, chocolate, desserts. But yesterday, I had some jam on the scones. Not loads, maybe two or three teaspoons. But wow, today’s slump hit hard.
It nearly derailed my day. But I still went to the gym. That wouldn’t have happened a couple of months ago. It lifted my mood, just enough.
And here’s the big bit—I went into the weights area. That matters. I’ve been putting it off for ages. Bouncing around it. Making excuses. But today, I thought: “Why not? Why should everyone else get to use that part of the gym?” It was only me stopping me.
I’m glad I went in. The sky’s blue. The sun’s shining. A walk outside is calling.
Weird mood, but I’m taking being active as the win.
I quite enjoy the buzz after delivering a good one. People say I’m good at it—but it doesn’t come naturally. There’s a lot of prep that happens behind the scenes: researching the topic, talking to experts, shaping the story I want to tell, and then—practice, practice, practice—until it feels right.
Often, I’ll type it all out freeform, like a stream of consciousness, and then read it aloud. If the words flow, great. If they don’t, I tweak them until they do.
But there’s always the anxiety. That feeling in the pit of my stomach from being “on display.” The adrenaline kicks in. It can be overwhelming, but over the years, I’ve found a few coping strategies—visualising success, clenching my fists and feet to release tension, shaking out my arms and legs to harness that adrenaline and point it in the right direction.
For years, I relied on caffeine to give me the edge. That extra buzz. Something to keep me sharp, alert… or at least that’s what I told myself. But not long ago, I quit caffeine entirely—and that changed everything.
The first two weeks were rough. I was tired, sluggish, foggy. But as week three rolled around, my energy started to return. And with it came a massive drop in anxiety.
That over-alert, tightly wound feeling? Gone. I could think more clearly, plan with focus, and function without the jittery undertone I hadn’t even realised had been there.
I had to deliver a big presentation recently—new client, unfamiliar content—and instead of spiralling, I calmly mapped out what I needed them to understand. What I needed them to agree to. I built the story from that outcome and rehearsed like I always do, but this time it was different.
No caffeine. No adrenaline crash. Just clarity.
People around me noticed a difference. Usually, they’d tread carefully around me for days beforehand and after—but not this time. I hadn’t even realised how much tension I’d been carrying into our home life.
Which brings me to today.
Another presentation—smaller than the last but still important. I woke up, went to the gym, and planned a steady row to clear my head and rehearse the intro in my mind. I asked ChatGPT for a session to shake off the nerves:
7,000m at 2:05/500m, 22 SPM, with the final 1,000m at 1:55/500m and 30 SPM. Perfect. Enough to sweat. Enough to focus.
And it worked. I delivered the presentation. No panic. No caffeine. Just me, present and prepared.
They say you do three presentations: The one in your head on the way there. The one on stage. And the one you replay on the way home.
