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.
I wasn’t really feeling it today, if I’m honest. But I still turned up. I talked to ChatGPT about what the session should look like and started with ten minutes on the rowing machine.
That ten minutes actually confirmed it: I wasn’t quite there today.
So instead of forcing a full rowing workout or walking out, I pivoted. I went and did sled work instead — pushing, pulling, lifting, carrying — the stuff I enjoy and the kind of work I can always get something out of.
After that I finished with another five minutes on the rower, just to close the loop and leave feeling like I’d done a complete session.
On the way out I had a proper “of course” moment: the little key in my key fob wouldn’t work, so I had to break into my own car. Thankfully there’s an old-school mechanical key hidden in the fob, so I got it sorted without too much drama.
I feel a bit better now. And it’s actually a nice day outside — blue sky, sun shining — even if my head and legs weren’t totally on board this morning.
This is The Sub-7 Experiment: turning up, adjusting, and getting it done anyway.
A couple of things helped. First off, it’s Friday, which is always a good day. Secondly, it’s one of those proper winter days: cold enough that there was ice on the car this morning, but the sky is blue and the sun is out. That kind of day always lifts the spirits.
I had a solid hour going around the weights and really enjoyed it. I even upped the weight on a couple of things, which felt good — progress without drama.
One thing I’m noticing more and more is how much having a rowing machine at home changes what the gym is for. I’m genuinely privileged to have the RowErg in the shed. It means that when I do go to the gym, I can use the rower there just as a warm-up and then focus properly on strength training. No juggling my hour between rowing and weights. Just warm up, lift, leave.
Today is Tuesday, and when I opened the curtains this morning the sun was actually shining. Hooray.
If I am completely honest, the first thing I thought about was walking on the beach and looking at the sea. That was the real temptation. But I have work commitments and a day to get on with, so instead I went to the gym and did a strength session.
And it was great. I really enjoyed it and I am very glad I went. Today is a good day.
I saw something on Instagram recently that came back to me while I was training. It was the idea that we always call in sick when we feel terrible, but we never call in well.
Wouldn’t it be brilliant to phone work and say, “I’m not coming in today because I feel great, and I’m going to walk on the beach and look at the sea”?
I might float that with my manager next time I see him. I doubt it will take off, with deadlines to meet and targets to hit, but the idea still makes me smile. A day off not because you are broken, but because you are actually doing well and want to enjoy it.
For today, though, I am doing the grown-up version. I lifted, I feel good, and now I am going to get some work done.
It is a few days into this phase of remembering what it feels like to look after myself, and it is actually pretty good.
It is Sunday today. I got up, had some breakfast and watched a bit of telly. I have a presentation first thing tomorrow morning, so I knew I had to do some work today as well.
It would have been very easy to sit on the sofa all day. It is raining outside, the rest of the house are happily relaxing and doing their own thing, and the path of least resistance was right there.
Instead, I reminded myself what it feels like to look after myself properly.
I went out to the shed and did 45 minutes on the rower. Now I am set to sit down and do a couple of hours on the presentation so I am ready for nine o’clock on Monday morning.
All checked in, all good. I am rowing well, cruising well, pulling decent speeds at a low stroke rate and generally getting faster with better technique. The Sub-7 goal is still there, and it is coming along. It is probably time to do a 2K test soon and see where things are.
For today, though, I am just glad I did not spend the whole day on the sofa. I moved first, then I worked. That feels like the right order.
One day on from yesterday’s realisation and I’m already seeing the difference.
I’ve got another potentially tricky meeting today, so I leaned straight back into the thing I know works: move first.
Old coach-slash-head-shrink GPT laid out a 30-minute session. A few minutes of gentle warm-up, then some mildly paced intervals. Nothing major, nothing draining or heroic. Not hectic, not heavy. Just enough to switch me on.
And it’s done exactly that. I feel ready to go now.
The point of this one wasn’t fitness gains or split times. It was mental health and headspace: using the rower to take the edge off, so I can walk into the meeting calmer, sharper, and in control.
Now it’s time to get ready for work and do what I need to do.
This is The Sub-7 Experiment: using movement to switch the lights back on.
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.
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.
July was a break month. I called it “movement, not measurement” — no calorie counting, no chasing numbers, no obsessing over pace or distance. Instead, it was about moving because I wanted to, not because I had to. And it worked.
There were plenty of walks, a few gym sessions, and a lot of time spent with family. Camping, holidays, and just enjoying being Dad. And yet, even with the lighter approach, July gave me one of the biggest breakthroughs of the summer: I realised my rowing form was wrong. For months I’d been driving off my toes instead of my heels, which explained the knee pain I’d been ignoring. With heel wedges and a focus on connection, I started the awkward process of re-learning how to row. It felt strange, disconnected, even underpowered, but it was a step in the right direction.
August was tougher. Coming back, I was hit by frustration: sore knees, comfort eating, a few pounds up on the scale, and the voices in my head louder than they’d been in a long time. The ones that say, “What’s the point? Stop now.” But in the middle of that I found an answer: the point is not becoming an old man dribbling into my soupruing the day i decided to stop moving. The point is staying strong, independent, and capable.
So I kept going. Rebuilding form on the rower. Long, hilly rides on the bike — including a brutal 112 km in rain, wind, and navigational mishaps that turned into a bigger ride than planned. No coffee stops, soaked to the skin, but proud I stuck it out. That cup of tea at the end tasted like a medal.
By the end of the month, structure was back. Gym sessions, meditation rows when my head was scattered, and one big endurance block: two × 45 minute blocks on the rower with a 20-minute bike in between. Over 21 km rowed in total, despite being under the weather. Proof that the base fitness is still there.
So here we are at the start of September. July gave me the space to reset. August gave me the chance to face setbacks head-on and still move forward. Now it’s time to sharpen things again — with a 120 km ride on the horizon and the 150 km event at the end of the month. And beyond that, the Sub-7 Experiment continues.
The Sub-7 Experiment 