First-Time HYROX Experience: Here's What Happened

I've done some crazy things in the nearly 15 years. I've completed an Olympic distance triathlon, swam in a 4.5-degree Scottish loch with numb limbs, shown how my body has changed over the years, and even fought in a professional MMA fight on Sky Sports, which I lost.

All of which is why, when asked by another athlete in the start pen 30 seconds before the start of my first HYROX race if I was nervous as he was, I answered: “What’s the point?

We’re all going to do it anyway.”

In retrospect, I perhaps should have been at least a little jittery.

Originating in Germany, evolving across mainland Europe, and achieving unprecedented scale in the US, HYROX stands as the world's largest indoor fitness event.

The concept is deceivingly simple.

The competition starts with a 1 km run, followed by a functional workout.

You'll repeat this cycle eight times, each cycle consisting of a different workout following every 1km lap.

The sequence is as follows: a 1km SkiErg, followed by a 50m sled push, a 50m sled pull, 80m of burpee-broad jumps, a 1km row, a 200m kettlebell farmers walk, 100m of sandbag lunges, and finally, 100 wall balls.

The distances and order of movements is always the same.

From New York to Hanover, Los Angeles to Maastricht, every race is consistent, which allows the normal competitor to better themselves and the elite athletes to rank on a global leaderboard.

I wasn’t going to worry the top athletes in the world. But I had trained, of course,.

And I had the expertise of coach and elite competitor Jade Skillen at my fingertips.

I had practiced my pacing on the runs and gone into the various elements of the event as fatigued as possible, to replicate how I imagined I would feel on race day.

The day prior to the event, I meet Jade at the venue for Saturday’s big show, the Manchester Central Convention Complex.

Formerly the city’s major train terminus, the cavernous space is already primed with all the equipment, PUMA hoardings, spectator zones and a small vendor village.

All that’s missing is the other 2499 registered competitors.

MH Elite coaches Faisal and Gus, who are the MCs for the event, do their sound checks in the background.

Jade and I run through a few of the movements in the warm-up area, so she can provide me with some last-minute cues.

We establish my pacing on the ski and the row, which feel comfortable enough.

I push the sled with more weight than necessary to make 125kg the next day feel easy.

It all seems great.

I mentally, secretly, set myself the goal of completing the race of 1 hour and 20 minutes on my way back to my hotel and go to bed.

I sleep terribly.

TIME TO ROX

With my wave starting at 1.10pm, I have plenty of time to watch a lot of very fit people running, repping and generally fitnessing extremely quickly.

I resolve to start slowly and pick up speed in the second half of the event.

Aiming for negative splits feels professional and right, after all.

I want to be professional about it.

Seconds after my words of encouragement to my nervy fellow competitor, we shoot from the starting pen into the first 2.5 laps around the outside of the hall that is the first 1km.

I run slowly, holding a 5:15 pace.

Or at least I think I do.

When I reach the first station in the middle of the running track, which is a 1000m jaunt on the SkiErg, I am blowing like one of the steam trains that once puffed in an out of this same building.

After completing the first ski run, I attempt, yet again unsuccessfully, to decelerate on my second run.

Sporting a timing chip around my ankle, a sizable scoreboard situated midway through the course displays the current stage: which lap, which run, and, as you're nearing the completion of your 1km loop, it precisely indicates the next workout from the eight scheduled.

Failing to cover the full distance before returning results in a five-minute penalty. Similarly, performing the workouts in an incorrect sequence incurs another five-minute penalty.

Now, burdened by a worrisome exhaustion, the thought of incurring a penalty looms large. So, I keep my gaze fixed on my feet, silently hoping for the best outcome.

The sled push, all things considered, goes fairly well.

The lanes on the carpet here seem notably ‘stickier’, or I’m markedly weakened from the first 15 minutes of the race that I expected.

It’s likely a bit of both. But I have not issue getting it moving and march halfway down each 12.5m length before breaking for a few seconds and then going again.

I overtake quite a few competitors who are pushing for entire lengths but then resting for longer.

It feels like the plan is working.

Then I start running. Or, rather, I wobble out onto the track on wobbly legs that refuse to do what they are told.

I plod on staring intently at the white line that divides the ‘fast’ lane from the ‘slow’ lane, which seems to help.

I am aware that having my head down is not the most motivational of postures. But persist all the same.

With the sled pull delightfully more of a case of taking the strain with your arms and walking it backwards a few metres before re-gripping, the next run is slightly easier.

But the burpee-broad-jumps loom large in my mind as I stare at my line. Of all the movements I have trained, the 80m of burpees and jumps forward are the one that has jacked my heart rate the most.

It is worse than in training.

I start the first 20 meters of the 80-meter snaking track at a steady, yet strong pace, skillfully navigating the middle path to overtake slower athletes on either side.

As I leap over the barrier, I notice a man on the return path, his gasps audible with each chest-to-floor contact and groans evident as he stands.

Surprisingly, the cadence of his struggle becomes a peculiar distraction, allowing me to maintain my repetitions with an almost endless vigor.

Eventually, my pace considerably slows, a necessity born of cardiovascular limits rather than a deliberate choice akin to that of a seasoned runner.

The farmer's walk, carrying two 24kg kettlebells, offers a brief respite for my posterior chain.

This exercise, a test of grip strength and core stability, proves manageable as both hold up under the strain.

During the 1km row, the initial twinges of cramp begin to manifest in my quads, yet I manage to sustain my pace effectively.

By this point, the runs are happening with me a sleeping passenger sat atop increasingly distant legs.

The car crash that is the sandbag lunges jolts me awake, however.

With the 20kg bag on my shoulders, myself and my lantern rouge comrades snake back and forth in agony, each touch of the back knee upon the floor a screaming temptation to just kneel there for a little while.

But go on we do. The final movement before crossing the finish line of HYROX, 100 wall balls, is renowned for crushing competitors when they are tantalisingly close to the reprieve of the finish line.

 As I start my eighth and last run, the beacon of positivity that is Faisal announces on the microphone, to everyone, that they are waiting for me and have a wall ball target reserved for me right at the front. The 2.5 laps go very, very slowly.

HY TIMES

Standing there at the climax, my t-shirt cast aside after enduring a series of burpees, squats, and targeted ball throws, rep after rep, I truly felt the spirit of HYROX come alive.

Encouraged by Faisal and Gus's voices over the speakers, urging me to push for another set of 10, the crowd just a few meters away suddenly appeared vivid, bursting with color and energy.

Driven to complete the final 20 reps without pause, I nearly succeeded. With only 5 reps remaining, Gus's countdown and the blasting music fueled me.

Dropping the ball, I attempted to cross the finish line in triumph, but in reality, my walk was that of a man contentedly defeated.

Once past the line, I collapsed onto my hands and knees, adopting what is instinctively a posture of deference and submission, common to creatures like us.

I do not care. Moments later I’m up and receiving high fives from friends and strangers.

After another little lie down to eat some sweets and begin a battle against dehydration, I feel pretty much OK.

I know the DOMS are in the post but they won’t arrive for 48 hours, so for the moment I revel in being done and walk around barefoot to try and cool myself down.

I completed HYROX in 1 hour and 35 minutes, slightly off from my goal of 1 hour and 20 minutes but still a significant gap from achieving it.

According to my Apple Watch, I burned a total of 1650 calories.

My WHOOP strain score for the day reached a new high of 20.7. Intriguingly, the WHOOP app reported that I spent '57 minutes at 90-100% of my maximum heart rate', which is '57 minutes more than my usual time in this heart rate zone during exercise.'

The metrics aside, HYROX is a feel-good event. Considering there are waves of 20 competitors setting off from 8am until nearly 8pm, it is as smooth and seamless an experience as you could hope for in a competition of this scale.

The judges and stewards around the course do not hover of you, but nor do they allow for any shortcuts in terms of movement standards.

Which is what you want, really, isn’t it?

Parts of it were hard for me. Very hard. But there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, even on the burpee-broad-jumps and sandbag lunges.

You resolve to get to the end of each struggle.

Then you put it behind you and look ahead to the next challenge as a chance to do better. Which is a good way to live your life.

I didn’t realise this while I was running the race.

There was no endorphin-wracked epiphany. I just stared at my white line and kept on going.

For that reason, I will be in that starting pen again at the end of April for the London event.

And I will hold my head up.

Source: menshealth