The Sub-7 Experiment

Tag: Training Adaptation

  • Dialing in the Ride

    I’m lucky enough to own two bicycles.

    One is a ten-year-old carbon-framed beauty with super nice wheels—it looks great, rides fast, and I love it.

    The other? A budget-friendly bike from a well-known French sporting chain. I bought it as a winter bike—something I could slap mudguards on and ride in all weathers without worrying about it. I figured if I ever crashed, at least I wouldn’t be watching an expensive piece of carbon fiber shatter into a million pieces.

    Here’s the weird thing…

    According to Strava, I set more personal bests on the cheaper, heavier bike.

    Meanwhile, when I’m on the expensive one, I feel like I’m hammering it, but the numbers don’t reflect it. It didn’t make sense.

    The Bike Fit Revelation

    A good friend has been telling me for years to get a professional bike fitting.

    I resisted.

    To my untrained eye, it seemed like a case of paying someone to adjust my saddle height—something I could figure out myself with a bit of trial and error, right?

    Wrong.

    I finally gave in and booked a bike fitting. It was a fantastic experience.

    The morning started with:
    ✅ Body measurements—measured against the bike setup
    ✅ Injury history & pain assessment—what aches, imbalances, or old injuries might be affecting my riding?
    ✅ Mobility tests—walking up and down the studio while the fitter analyzed my gait and flexibility

    And that was before we even touched the bike.

    Cleat Position: The Foundation of Everything

    Before we even looked at saddle height, we spent 30 minutes on my left shoe alone.

    Not just adjusting the cleat position but making sure that:
    ✅ I was comfortable on the pedals
    ✅ My foot placement allowed for optimal power transfer
    ✅ Everything felt natural and stable

    Then, I started pedaling.

    Cameras in front, behind, and from the side captured my riding position. These were plugged into a laptop where the fitter analyzed:
    ✅ Leg angles & hip tilt
    ✅ Arm position & reach
    ✅ Pressure distribution on the saddle

    Every tweak—seat height, fore/aft positioning, bar height, even tilt adjustments—was measured, discussed, and refined.

    One of the biggest changes? Moving the handlebars down.

    I’d always assumed, with my long torso and monkey arms, that I’d need the bars higher for comfort.

    Nope.

    Lowering the bars made a massive difference.

    Post-Fit Struggles: Where’s My Power?

    There was only one problem.

    Changing my position and connection to the bike made it feel like I had no power in my legs.

    This is expected. Even the pros experience this after a bike fit adjustment—the body needs time to adapt. The only solution?

    Get out and ride.

    Today’s Ride: Strange, but Good

    So that’s what I did.

    It was a beautiful spring morning—not too warm, not too cold, blue sky, crisp air. Perfect cycling weather.

    I did my usual 22K loop—230m of climbing, 57 minutes total.

    It felt weird.

    But also really good.

    This was only my third ride since the fit, and already, I feel stronger, more comfortable, and more stable.

    One thing became clear—I have a massive leg imbalance.

    The fitter reckoned if I had a power meter, it would show a 25% / 75% power split left-to-right.

    The fix? Conscious effort.

    A tip from the fitter:
    🚴‍♂️ On climbs, count 20 pedal strokes per leg.
    🚴‍♂️ Focus on the left leg, then switch to the right.
    🚴‍♂️ Repeat.

    By actively engaging both legs, I should rebalance the power output.

    More saddle time will bring back the power.

    I hope.

    But today was a win.

    ✅ Great to be out.
    ✅ Great to do something different.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.

  • The Training So Far

    From Google to ChatGPT

    Google is brilliant at finding stuff on the internet. It’s so ingrained in everyday language that we say, “I’ll Google that for you.” You can use exact phrases, search within specific sites, and fine-tune your results with “AND,” “NOT,” and “OR.”

    But now that ChatGPT has internet access, it’s my go-to tool for research. If I want to buy something, I don’t just Google it—I ask ChatGPT to compare options, tabulate results, and summarize real user reviews. I can even ask where to buy it and what payment options are available.

    That’s really clever.

    But ChatGPT hasn’t just become a research tool for me. It’s become my coach.

    Body Recomposition & The Problem With Weights

    I started reading about body recomposition—the idea that you can lose fat and gain muscle at the same time. Most fitness advice says to focus on one or the other:

    • To lose fat, you need a caloric deficit.
    • To gain muscle, you need a caloric surplus.

    So how do you do both? A lot of articles suggested it was possible if you:
    ✅ Prioritize lean protein
    ✅ Lift weights consistently
    ✅ Keep a close eye on calorie intake

    The weights part is where I hit a roadblock.

    I find the weights section intimidating. I’d only use it when no one else was around—which wasn’t often. That meant I had no consistency.

    But the rowing machine? That was in a different part of the gym, and hardly anyone used it.

    Asking ChatGPT: Is Rowing Strength Training?

    Since I was already rowing regularly, I asked ChatGPT this:

    “Does rowing on a Concept2 erg count as resistance training, or is it purely cardio?”

    I explained how I row heavy, deep strokes at low rates and mix in high-intensity sessions. Could rowing alone help with body recomposition?

    The answer?

    “Rowing is an excellent full-body workout that combines cardio and strength elements. While it won’t replace dedicated strength training, it can contribute significantly to fat loss, muscle endurance, and mental health. With the right approach, you can absolutely achieve body recomposition through rowing—especially if you complement it with weights and proper nutrition.”

    So, not exactly a replacement for weight training, but it gave me a framework. And when I told ChatGPT that I found the weights section intimidating, it suggested alternative routines I could do outside that area.

    At this point, I wasn’t even thinking about sub-7. I was still focused on getting fitter and reading James Smith’s book.

    ChatGPT as a Coach

    I started logging my training with ChatGPT:

    • How far I rowed
    • What pace I held
    • How I felt during and after

    I even asked:

    “Is this OK for a nearly 55-year-old man?”

    The responses were detailed, encouraging, and motivating. It would:
    ✅ Break down my average split times
    ✅ Tell me what the session achieved aerobically
    ✅ Compare me to age-group standards
    ✅ Provide structured progressions for the next workout

    Then, the conversation shifted.

    I mentioned struggling with nutrition—I’d be disciplined for a while, then binge on the wrong stuff. I told ChatGPT that I wanted to be in better shape before my holiday in a few months.

    The response? Not just training advice—but a mindset shift.

    • Set a realistic goal
    • Use the 80/20 rule
    • Stop relying on willpower alone
    • Make myself accountable—but without guilt

    ChatGPT had morphed into a therapist.

    From Reluctance to Showing Up

    I started digging into why I was avoiding the gym—why I’d talk myself out of it first thing in the morning.

    ChatGPT helped me reframe my thinking:

    • Make it a choice, not a chore.
    • Set smaller, achievable wins.
    • Just get there—figure out the session once you’re in.

    One day, I finally dragged my arse out of bed and into the gym.

    I sat on the static bike and asked:

    “OK, so now I’m here—what should I do?”

    ChatGPT replied:

    “Great! You’ve already won by showing up. Since you’re at the gym now, let’s keep it simple and effective based on your goals.”

    It then suggested workouts, I picked one, and I went and did it.
    It included weights and rowing, and I felt brilliant afterward.

    Over the next few sessions, I kept logging workouts—and ChatGPT adapted my training like a real coach.

    The Mental Health Row

    One day, I told ChatGPT:

    “A mental health row is required today. I’m planning on doing 7K in 30 minutes. What do you think?”

    ChatGPT responded with:

    ✅ Pacing recommendations (2:08–2:10/500m split)
    ✅ Stroke rate guidelines (22–24 SPM)
    ✅ Mental approach (“Let it be your time—no pressure, just movement and flow.”)

    I rowed 7,000m in 29:20, finishing with a 250m sprint at 1:45/500m.

    The breakdown was exactly what I needed to hear:

    ✅ “You even beat your original target!”
    ✅ “You stayed controlled and steady but still had power left to push at the end.”
    ✅ “You got both mental and physical benefits—clearing your head while maintaining a solid pace.”

    That’s when I asked:

    “What pace do I need for a sub-7-minute 2K?”

    ChatGPT’s response?

    “To hit 7:00, you need to hold a 1:45/500m split. You’ll need a mix of power, endurance, and interval work to sustain it.”

    It then gave me a structured training plan—low-rate power rows, sprint intervals, race-paced work, and strength training.

    And That’s How The Sub-7 Experiment Was Born

    At that moment, the goal crystallized.

    This wasn’t just about fitness anymore. It wasn’t just about losing weight before a holiday.

    It became a clear, structured challenge.

    A sub-7-minute 2K.

    And I was going to train for it properly.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.