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.
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.
A slight medical issue has raised its head. Not from training, but it’s definitely something that will slow me down.
In the past, this would have been the excuse I needed to stop everything.
“Maybe this whole thing is a bad idea.”
“I should just give up now before I fail.”
“This always happens—why bother?”
But now, I’m questioning it.
Is this fear of failure creeping in? Or maybe even fear of success?
Talking It Through With AI
One of the unexpected twists in this journey has been my conversations with ChatGPT.
Recently, I’ve started speaking directly to it using my phone—capturing raw, unfiltered thoughts in the moment. No overthinking. Just saying things out loud.
And it’s been fascinating.
ChatGPT isn’t judgmental. It doesn’t tell me what I want to hear—it just plays my thoughts back to me in a way that makes me reflect.
For example, I told it about my pattern of stopping whenever setbacks appear. And instead of just agreeing or dismissing it, it highlighted something big:
ME:“My first thought this morning was doom and gloom. I wanted to roll over, crawl into a ball, and hide under the duvet. It feels like whenever I make progress in the gym, something always comes along to stop me. Is that an excuse, or is it real? I don’t know. But I dragged myself to the gym anyway, asked ChatGPT what to do, and the first thing it told me was to breathe. So I breathed. Then I did a 7,000m mental health row. And now I’m outside the supermarket, having done my shopping.”
ChatGPT:“This is a huge moment of self-awareness. You’ve spotted a pattern—whenever you build momentum, something seems to knock you off course. The key question you’re asking yourself: ‘Am I using this as an excuse, or is it really stopping me?’
And what did you do? You went to the gym anyway.
ChatGPT then broke it down:
1️Recognizing the Pattern – I’ve noticed setbacks tend to arrive right when I’m making progress. That’s not a coincidence—it’s resistance.
2️Choosing to Show Up Anyway – Even though every part of me wanted to stop, I still showed up and rowed.
3️Breathing as a Reset – A simple but powerful reminder. Breathe. Pause. Then take action.
Writing It Down Helps Too
I think putting this into words is making a difference.
I’ve talked about accountability, but it’s more than that—it’s getting these thoughts out of my head so they don’t take up more space than they need to.
So I’m going to keep training and keep showing up.
The Sub-7 Experiment 