The Sub-7 Experiment

Tag: life

  • The Chassis Is There

    I haven’t done one of these posts for a while.

    It’s funny, the other day I found a message to my future self. It was in my calendar. I’d obviously written it and put it in there when I came back from holiday last year. It was a reminder not to let myself go this summer. Ease off a little bit maybe, but not to let myself go the way I did last year.

    It was quite funny really, because I honestly don’t feel as though I’ve properly got going since I wrote that message.

    And yet, when I look at the evidence, that’s not entirely true.

    My cruising speed on the rower is a lot higher. I don’t think I’m any closer to breaking the sub-7 2K yet, but my cruising speed is there. I’m fitter. Aerobically fitter. On Sunday I went out and did 80 kilometres on the bike and didn’t really think about it. It was just there and done.

    So the work is still happening. I just don’t feel like I’ve got going with the same intensity I had last year.

    So what needs to change?

    I think I need to start blogging more again, because that was where a lot of the accountability came from. More than that, it was where the reflection came from.

    My routine after rowing in the shed needs to change. At the moment I finish the session with my music still on, walk back into the kitchen, make my recovery drink, log my calories, log the workout with ChatGPT, go upstairs, shower, and start work.

    At no point in that sequence do I stop and reflect on what I’ve just done.

    I’m doing the exercise. I’m just not logging it properly in my own head. I’m not writing it down. I’m certainly not reflecting on it. It’s just a case of getting out, doing the session, coming back in and moving on to the next thing.

    That reflection piece needs to be reinstated.

    Maybe the new rule is simple: when I finish on the rower and come back into the house, I take the headphones off. Then, while I’m making my recovery drink, I speak into ChatGPT and do the reflection there and then.

    That used to happen naturally when I went to the gym. I’d finish the session, get back to the car, sit there for a minute and think about what I’d just done before starting the engine and heading to the next thing. Training in the shed is brilliant, but it has removed that little pause.

    I need to put it back.

    The work is still there. The aerobic capacity is still there. The chassis is there. But I’m still a long way from sub-7, and I need to get stronger. That’s the next proper conversation with Coach ChatGPT.

    So yes, time to get back in the groove, but gently. If I turn it into a chore, I’ll switch off again.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment. Still reflecting. Still working. Maybe not quite as intensely as before, but there is a plan to change that.

  • Never Race a Stranger in a Hotel Gym

    11 years ago this weekend I rode 100km in one day on my bike.

    It was the furthest I’d ever ridden and it was the first organised ride I’d ever completed. My mate Rich and I set out to do it together and it was a great day out.

    One thing that has stuck with me since that day was cycling next to an old boy who, to my untrained eye, could have been 70 years old. He looked like he’d stacked up a lot of experience in his time, and he was riding a Pinarello Dogma. For the uninitiated, that’s basically a superbike. Think Koenigsegg or McLaren. Probably the finest bike money could buy at the time.

    This old boy was cruising along. Not in a hurry, not even looking like he was breaking a sweat. Me and Rich were keeping up with him fine. There was a decent-sized group and we were all moving along the flat at around the same pace.

    Then we came to a hill.

    There was lots of downshifting and lots of effort as we started to climb… except for the old boy. He seemed to put in the exact same effort as he had on the flat and just glided away up the hill like it didn’t exist.

    Rich and I still talk about that. And that older gentleman is my inspiration for what I’m doing now. I want to be 75 and still riding my bike up hills like they’re not there. I still want to be able to sit on a rowing machine and go well for 60 minutes at a time. And I’d like to be doing it with my mate Rich.

    This weekend I had a little moment of my own.

    We were away as a family in a hotel in Kilkenny and I decided to go to the gym for a row. We’d already used the pool earlier in the day and I thought a spin on the rower would be a good way to finish off a day of walking around town.

    The row was great, although the machine was a bit old and graunchy. It really made me appreciate how lucky I am to have my own Concept2 in the shed.

    There was a group of younger lads in there, twenty-somethings, and I could see them clocking me. I was cruising along, 22 spm, controlled. They kept looking over and I could tell I’d become a bit of a “thing” for them.

    Then one of them strutted up to the rower next to me, made a big show of sitting down and strapping in, while his mates watched… and he went for it.

    Like a demon. Straight into 35 spm, out of control. On those big Technogym screens you can see everything, and I did just enough to stay ahead of him on speed and watts while keeping it at 22 spm.

    He tried and tried but couldn’t get in front.

    After a while he got more serious, tried to find a rhythm, started increasing his overall speed… and at that point I dropped my stroke rate to 19 spm and just pulled harder. The display showed 220 watts sustained for about three minutes at around 1:55 pace and he still couldn’t get near me.

    When he hit 1000 metres he stopped, got off, and went back to his mates shaking his head.

    And I loved it…!!!

    Hollow victory? Maybe. Should I know better? Definitely.

    But the moral of the story is this: watch out for the old dudes on the rower. They are quite likely to kick your ass.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.

  • Reflection, Riding, and Reassessing What Matters

    It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.

    The “new” rower in the shed is not so new now. It has been there for six months, and the new routine of rowing, then heading straight back into the house to start work or whatever the day brings, has meant I haven’t been giving myself any time to reflect on the workout afterwards. No reflection has meant nothing to post.

    Rowing is still important to me, and so is the wider exercise regime as a whole. But I think I’ve been missing that reflection piece. I also wrote in a previous article that I’ve missed the gym visits too. So it feels like time to reassess what matters.

    Exercise matters. Having an exercise goal matters. Reflection matters too. And so does being around like-minded people. My gym membership has lapsed, and I think it is time to renew it.

    In other news, I’ve been cycling a bit more.

    This Sunday I’m riding the Tour de South Coast, a 100km sportive that covers some roads I’ve used before in training. I don’t know anyone else who is doing it, but there will be a couple of hundred cyclists out on the day, and I’m looking forward to it.

    I’ve also been back to see Bike Fit Barry, who has once again sprinkled a bit of magic over the setup on the Triban. On top of that, I’ve decided to make it even more comfortable. I’ve taken the mudguards off completely and fitted some big 35mm tyres, which means I can run lower pressures and take a lot of the buzz out of the road surface.

    A quick 15km test ride yesterday showed they are doing exactly what I hoped.

    I spent a lot of last year tweaking the Giant to try to get more comfort out of it, but the truth is that the early carbon technology makes it so stiff that it just takes too much out of me over longer distances. I’m keen to see how the newly fettled, balloon-tyre-equipped Triban gets on over the 100km on Sunday.

    In Coach ChatGPT news, I’m still consulting with it and still completing the workouts it gives me after I upload my daily WHOOP scores. I’m getting stronger and faster on the rower, and my technique is getting better too. I can really feel the progress.

    The aim is still to get to a sub-7-minute 2,000m row.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment. We continue.

  • Releasing the Valve

    Oh man. What a morning.

    I genuinely didn’t know where my head was at today. It was all over the place. I wasn’t feeling the gym. I wasn’t feeling the rower. I wasn’t feeling anything.

    I did that thing where you’re not doing anything, but you’re also not resting. Up and down the stairs. Round and round the house. Looking out the window. Rain. Wind. Sit in front of the TV for a bit. Make a cup of tea. Walk again. Another cup of tea. More pacing.

    I even told Coach GPT I wasn’t going to train today, that I’d just go for a walk, but I was talking myself out of that as well. The truth is, I knew I needed to do something.

    And then the voices started. The men in my head.

    “What’s the point?”
    “What’s the point of any of this exercise stuff?”
    “You’re not getting anywhere.”
    “Just go back and watch TV.”

    I battled it and battled it. Right up to the point where I was pulling my gear out of the wardrobe. Shorts on — still fighting it. T-shirt on — still fighting it. Shoes on — still fighting it.

    Then I went out to the shed, sat on the rower, and started.

    I did 15 minutes, and every five minutes I got faster. By the last five I was holding sub-1:57 pace.

    Then I stopped and did two 250m sprints , pretty much flat out, but controlled. Controlled frustration release. Controlled anger release. The kind where you’re emptying the pressure without blowing up.

    It didn’t solve everything. I still feel like there’s a lot going on and a lot to do. But it released the valve.

    And I am genuinely grateful I have a rower in the shed, because if I’d had to get in the car and drive to the gym this morning, I don’t think it would have happened at all.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment — as much for mental health as physical health.

  • Choosing to Turn Up

    Choices. It’s all about the choices.

    Choose to be happy. Choose to be sad. Choose to feel sorry for yourself. Choose to eat your own bodyweight in cheese and crisps and crackers. Choose to turn up. Choose to be a good dad. Choose to go to the gym and come out feeling brilliant, like I did today.

    Today was the first time I’ve chosen to go to the gym in a long time. I haven’t been at all this year.

    Instead, I’ve been blaming other people. Blaming the New Year’s resolution crowd for “clogging up” the gym. Why am I so anti-them? They’re trying to make a change. I’ve been in their shoes, and not that long ago either. Twelve months ago, twenty-four months ago, I was them.

    If anything, I should be in there alongside them. As someone who has been where they are, I could help if they needed it. Instead, I chose to use them as my excuse not to go.

    I also chose to decide to be sad because of the time of year. It’s winter, Christmas is gone, the sun barely shows up, so I leaned into it. Chose the slump. Chose to sit on my hands.

    What a choice, when there’s only one go at this life.

    At some point you have to choose to live it. Choose to get off your arse and do something about it.

    Today, I chose to go to the gym.

    I’ve been rowing in the shed on my new rower, and I’m still delighted I’ve got it. But I’ve missed the contact with people. I’ve missed being in a place that’s full of like-minded folk, all there to put some effort in and feel better for it. The buzz. The energy.

    So today I choose differently.

    I choose to live. I choose to be the best version of me that I can be. And I choose to start doing that again today.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.

  • Mojo, Meetings, and What Actually Matters

    I haven’t written for a while.

    It’s been tough. Most of December, all of January, and the first bit of February I’ve been coming up here “looking for my mojo.” I’m not even sure I ever had a mojo in the first place, but it became the story in my head: I’ve lost it.

    It hasn’t helped that it feels like it has rained every day this year where I live. The sun barely shows up. I also think I put too much stock in the idea that once I had a rowing machine in the shed, everything would click and I’d train every day.

    On top of that, the new process I built in December – WHOOP scores into ChatGPT, get a tailored session – hasn’t been working the way I hoped. Not because the logic is bad, but because of how I react to it.

    When ChatGPT looks at my WHOOP recovery and sleep and says, “easy day today,” I treat that as a full stop. “Right, that’s it, we’re done.” No movement. No walk. Nothing. It’s basically become an easy out, and I’ll always find an easy out if you give me one.

    The “mojo hunt” has turned into the same thing. If I tell myself I’m looking for my mojo and I can’t find it, then I have an excuse to sit on the back foot and do nothing.

    I still want to row. I still want a sub-7 2,000 metres. That goal hasn’t changed. What I’ve lost sight of is that exercise, for me, is about far more than chasing a single number on the monitor.

    The rowing – and the moving in general – is primarily about my mental health.

    Case in point: earlier this week I was heading into a potentially confrontational meeting. I knew the people in the room probably weren’t going to like what I had to tell them. The old me would have carried that anxiety all day.

    Instead, I went into the shed.

    I told ChatGPT about the meeting and asked for a workout that would help channel the adrenaline and set me up properly. It came back with a plan that turned out to be perfect. By the time I’d finished the row, the energy was controlled, not chaotic.

    I hadn’t even called the meeting – someone else had – but when it started I decided I was going to drive it. I would control the narrative. Everyone would get their say, everyone’s points would be noted, but at the end of the day there were only two options on the table. They could go one way or the other. That’s it.

    I went in with that calm, directed energy from the row and nailed it.

    Fast forward two days. I’ve just come out of the shed after another row and another thinking session, and the penny has finally dropped:

    I never had “mojo” in the first place. What I had was movement. When I move, I look after myself. When I stop, everything starts to fog over.

    My mental health depends on exercise. Full stop.

    And so what if I’ve put on a few pounds lately. That does not define me. What defines me is the state of my head and my ability to deal with things calmly and rationally – whether that’s work stuff, dad stuff, husband stuff or just being a decent friend. That is what counts.

    The next step isn’t hunting for some mystical spark. It’s much simpler and much more boring:

    • Go outside, even when it’s raining.
    • Get back to walking.
    • Go to the gym.
    • See people, even if it’s just a nod to the receptionist or a quick hello to the regulars.

    I need the physical work and a bit of human contact. If I keep those two things in the mix, everything else won’t magically fall into place, but it will get clearer again. And clarity is what I need: for my mental health, my physical health, to be a decent dad and husband, and to be kinder to myself.

    I’d lost sight of that.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment: not just chasing 2,000 metres, but remembering to look after myself.

  • Missing the Gym, Just a Little

    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.

  • A Letter to My Future Self

    Wednesday Strength Session

    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.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.

  • Sitting with the Sad Day

    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.

    And that’s just magic.

  • The Sub-7 Experiment: What I Didn’t See Coming

    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.