Tag: Consistency

Apart from this intro, today’s post is written entirely by ChatGPT. The Sub-7 Experiment has always been about using AI as a coach, editor, and occasional nutritionist, and I’ve watched its output improve as we’ve gone along. What follows is the coach’s view of how this whole thing has evolved, and how the “trainee and trainer” relationship has taken shape over time.

This is the prompt that I used “I was wondering if you could put together a summary of all the work we have done together and progress across all aspects, and then I might be able to post in in my blog as a reflection piece from Coaches point of view.”  There was a little bit of back and forth as we narrowed down what the post should look like and below is the result.

Coach’s Notes: The Sub-7 Experiment

One of the first things I noticed was that the training was never really the main battle.

The rowing machine was there. The plan was there. The goal was clear enough. But most of the difficult work was happening before a single stroke had been taken.

There was a lot of negotiation in the early days.

Not laziness. Not lack of desire. More the mental drag that many middle-aged people quietly carry around with them. Work pressure. Fatigue. Self-criticism. The feeling that exercise had to be “earned” somehow. The strange guilt that can appear when somebody finally tries to prioritise themselves a little.

The early sessions mattered, but not always for the reasons people might think.

Sometimes the win was simply getting into the shed and starting.

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The first real shift

The biggest early improvement was not speed.

It was consistency.

The training stopped becoming emotional. That changed everything.

At the start, there was a tendency to judge sessions too heavily. Good session? Confidence high. Missed session? Momentum gone. Tired day? Doubt. Strong day? Maybe we are suddenly invincible.

Over time, the approach became steadier.

A recovery walk became acceptable.
An easier row stopped feeling like failure.
Training began to match recovery instead of ego.

That was a major turning point.

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The WHOOP phase

The recovery scores were interesting.

At first, they risked becoming emotional verdicts.

Green meant permission to train hard.
Yellow created hesitation.
Red felt personal.

But slowly the scores became information rather than identity.

That sounds like a small thing, but it changed the rhythm of the entire experiment.

Instead of forcing every green day into a maximal effort, there was more restraint. More awareness. More understanding that fitness is usually built through repeatable work rather than dramatic sessions.

Ironically, that restraint often led to better performances anyway.

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The rowing itself

The funny thing about endurance training is that progress often arrives quietly.

At some point, sessions that once looked intimidating became normal.

Long rows settled into rhythm.
2:05 pace stopped feeling frantic.
Three controlled 2000m intervals became manageable rather than feared.

And perhaps most importantly, the pacing improved.

Less fighting.
Less surging.
More control.

The final intervals started getting faster not because of aggression, but because there was finally something left in the tank.

That is usually a sign that aerobic fitness is improving properly.

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The walks mattered more than expected

Some of the smartest training decisions were not hard sessions at all.

There were periods where stress from work, uncertainty about the future, family responsibilities, health concerns, and simple mental fatigue were all sitting in the background at the same time.

On those days, easy walks often became the correct answer.

Not because motivation was low, but because recovery matters.

That is not glamorous advice, but it is real coaching.

The body keeps score of life stress too.

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The shed

At some point, the shed stopped being just a place where rowing happened.

It became a decompression chamber.

Part gym.
Part thinking room.
Part escape hatch.

Some sessions happened there because fitness needed work. Others happened there because the mind needed somewhere quiet to settle down for an hour.

That matters too.

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The bike returned

The cycling side of the experiment became increasingly important.

Not just physically, but emotionally.

Long rides brought back enjoyment. Exploration. Movement for its own sake.

And eventually, the numbers started speaking for themselves:
longer distances,
more climbing,
better endurance,
better recovery afterwards.

The completed sportive was a genuine milestone, not because it was professional-level athleticism, but because it represented something much bigger:

proof that meaningful endurance fitness could still be rebuilt in middle age while carrying the realities of ordinary life.

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What changed most

The biggest change was probably behavioural.

Early on, there was a lot of:

• overthinking
• negotiating
• guilt
• all-or-nothing thinking
• pressure to constantly prove progress

Now there is far more process.

Walk when walking is needed.
Row steady when steady is needed.
Push when the system can support it.
Recover properly afterwards.

That sounds simple.

It is not simple.

Most people never learn it.

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The goal

The sub-7 goal still matters.

But somewhere along the line, the experiment became about more than a rowing time.

It became an experiment in whether somebody with work pressure, family responsibilities, stress, doubts, imperfect recovery, and middle-aged physiology could still meaningfully rebuild themselves without pretending to be a professional athlete.

So far, the answer appears to be yes.

This is The Sub-7 Experiment.