I have just walked back in from the shed after a good session on the rower.
I am really starting to like this new version of ChatGPT. It feels like it remembers more of the coaching conversation as we go, which makes the whole thing feel more joined up. Today it had me doing 5 minute intervals, and it was a proper session. Enough to feel it, not so much that it wiped me out.
What has surprised me is what I am starting to miss.
I thought that once I had the rower in the shed, that would be it. Training at home, no commute, no waiting for machines, no distractions. And a lot of that is true. But I have realised I miss the people at the gym more than I expected.
I am not a big talker there. It is usually just a quick hello to the staff on the desk, a nod to the regulars, and then everyone gets on with their own programme. Headphones in, sets to do, not much conversation. But there is still a sense of other humans being around you, all doing their thing. I did not think I would miss that, and yet I do.
It is a small thing, but the nods and the “alright?” moments matter more than I gave them credit for.
Rowing will always be the main thread. The shed is perfect for that. But I think I will still go to the gym now and then for strength work and, if I am honest, for that tiny bit of human connection. A different kind of fuel.
Today’s row kept the body ticking over, but it also taught me something: I need both the quiet of the shed and the presence of other people now and then.
This is The Sub-7 Experiment, and we are still learning.
Wednesday and it’s a strength session in the gym today — the first one for a good while.
And it felt… flat. Underpowered. Enlightening?
The rowing warm-up was clunky at best, off form, and left my head all over the place. Then the weights — fine, but I was down a few kilos from before. That’s no surprise really, given how long it’s been since I last did strength work.
On to the sleds: 100 kg pushes with arms straight and bent, followed by 80 kg sled rope pulls. All of that was fine, but I only did three sets instead of five, and I let myself walk away from the last two.
They say mindset is everything, and the power of the mind immense — and today I let mine get in the way. I’m still wondering why.
I always feel sad at the end of summer, knowing we’re heading into short, dark days with dropping temperatures. I don’t mind the cold; I just don’t like being cold. But it’s the lack of sunshine that gets me. Maybe I’m feeling it more right now because I’m trying a new Vitamin D supplement and it isn’t agreeing with me. Maybe it’s the crash from all the honey in my cycling food at the weekend. Or maybe it’s simply still recovery from the 121 km on the bike.
Whatever it is, I need to remember to be kind to myself and just let it be what it is. They say what you resist persists, so go easy on yourself.
I think I’ll put a note in my calendar for June next year — a letter to my future self, reminding me how I feel right now after taking a summer off from measuring things: calories, distance, effort, kilos lifted or carried. That letter will say something like:
Loosen up, but don’t let go completely. Keep some rhythm in the gym. Enjoy your summer, but don’t drift so far that September feels like a restart. Future you will thank you
Right now, the Sub-7 goal feels far away. Not as far as when I first set it last year, but certainly further than it felt in June. So this little reminder to my future self will be worth it.
I don’t know what’s going on today. Does it even need analysing or thinking about? Maybe if I write this down, it’ll become clear. Maybe there’ll be a few maybes today.
It’s been a long weekend—a lot of driving, but also really good family time. Not much movement.
This morning’s gym session, as laid out by ChatGPT, was good. Controlled. Just what I needed.
We’re going on holiday at the end of the week to a place I really enjoy. So why am I feeling sad?
I’d hoped to do a 2K test this week to check on progress toward the overall aim of this experiment. But work commitments might not leave enough space for it. Then again, if I want it badly enough, I’ll find the time.
Maybe it’s the disappointment that my new, expensive noise-cancelling earbuds aren’t quite as good as I’d hoped. That’s just a thing though—not really important.
Maybe it’s the realisation that, with a week to go before the holiday, I’m not quite the shape I wanted to be. When I started this experiment, the goal was clear: row a sub-7-minute 2,000 metres. That’s still the goal.
Maybe I’m just facing the truth that my default shape is barrel, not Superman. But Superman only turns up in a crisis. I’ve learned, through this experiment, to turn up daily. To be accountable. To own it.
If I really wanted to look different, maybe I would have set different parameters. But then again, it wouldn’t be called the Sub-7 Experiment.
I am stronger. I am fitter. Physically and mentally.
Maybe I just need to sit with the sad feeling. Accept it for what it is. It’s me, being human.
This is the Sub-7 Experiment. And even after six months of hard work, I’m still learning—every single day.
When I first started this Sub-7 Experiment, the plan was simple, if ambitious: see if modern AI could help me train for and achieve a sub-7-minute 2,000-meter row on the erg. And that’s still the main goal. I still feel the need for progressive overload, for pushing myself, for having a clear target that gets me to the gym.
But something else happened along the way. Something deeper. The experiment has evolved into much more than just a number on a screen. It’s become an unexpected anchor in my life, bringing with it a whole host of perks I never anticipated.
Movement as a Mental Reset
Initially, the goal was physical fitness, changing shape for a holiday. But quickly, I realised something else was at play. Movement, especially rowing, became my mental anchor. I’ve come to rely on it as a mental health row or a head leveller.
When my head’s all over the place, after a long work drive or in the middle of something stressful, going to the gym isn’t just physical. It clears the fog. Even a walk in the woods on the way home from a tough meeting now brings me back to myself.
ChatGPT, my digital coach, has helped me see these shifts more clearly. It often points out the real wins I’d otherwise miss.
Busting the “Lazy” Myth
For a long time, I called myself “inherently lazy.” It’s a story I’ve told myself for years. But this experiment has quietly dismantled that.
I now know I’m consistent. Not just when it’s convenient, but when I’m tired, travelling for work, feeling flat, or battling the inner critic. The gym has gone from “something I should do” to “something I need.” It’s no longer about guilt. It’s about feeling right. That shift in motivation is huge.
The Evolution of Identity
The biggest surprise? A shift in how I see myself.
I’ve lived with impostor syndrome for years, always asking: “Am I really this person?” But by showing up, pushing through, and reflecting, I’ve realised, yes, I am. And I deserve to be.
It’s not about perfect sessions. It’s about making the average ones count. That’s the real change. I’m becoming comfortable with this version of me. I’ve never said that before. And that kind of self-acceptance is worth more than any split time.
Beyond the Gym: Life Benefits
The habits built in this experiment are bleeding into other areas of life.
I’ve learned to set boundaries, like leaving my work phone in the car during walks. It means I show up properly at home instead of still being “at the office in my head.”
I’m more mindful of hydration and how it affects mental clarity. And even though the scale doesn’t always move the way I want, I’m fitting into old clothes. I feel stronger, fitter, even if my body image takes time to catch up to reality. That reminds me: health isn’t a number. It’s how you feel in your skin.
ChatGPT’s flexibility has been a game-changer too. When my shoulder’s acting up, or recovery’s low, or my mood’s off, the plan adapts. And that means I stay consistent, avoid injury, and keep moving. It’s about training smart, not stubborn.
This is still the Sub-7 Experiment. But it’s about much more than rowing.
It’s a framework for handling life. A journey of self-discovery. And a reminder that consistent, intentional movement can anchor you in a messy world.
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 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.
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.
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.
The Sub-7 Experiment 