To linger a little longer…

On my first HYROX

 

A few days before the race, I went for a deep tissue massage.

Usually it’s excruciating. I brace for it. Every knot, every point of pressure — I fight it. That’s just how it goes. This time, nothing. There was pressure, yes. Tenderness. But no real pain. I kept waiting for it to arrive. It didn’t. It felt like something had loosened without me forcing it, like the body had done its work quietly, over time, and I was only just noticing.

I remember lying there thinking — is this what I’ve been carrying all this while?

The day before the race felt completely wrong.

Fridays are usually my heaviest training days. Full tilt. This one wasn’t. Carb load, don’t push, eat more, move less. By the end of the day, I felt slothful. Heavy in a way I’m not used to. Not tired from effort, just slow. Slightly guilty, if I’m honest.

The ice cream was excellent.

I remember thinking I should have eaten idlis. Something cleaner, more correct. But underneath all of that was this discomfort of not doing. Not exerting. Not earning the rest.

Race day. First station, the SkiErg.

Kabeer went first, then handed over to me. I settled into a reasonable groove — not pushing too hard, just finding a rhythm. And I couldn’t help looking around. People ahead of us, behind us. That constant scan of — are we okay, are we on track? And then I realised I had already recovered. Just like that.

The transitions were chaotic, which surprised me. I thought that would be the easy part — move from one thing to the next and it just flows. It didn’t. You’re coming off one station, trying to find your breath, figure out where to go. It never quite settled.

The sled push was a shock. In training it’s one thing. In the race, with the noise and the crowd and the adrenaline, everything around you is pulling you to go harder. I kept telling myself — stay at 70-80%, don’t burn out early. But that’s harder than it sounds.

The running is where I really felt it.

Watching Kabeer run is just different. He’s smooth in a way that’s almost annoying. That line kept coming to mind — slow is smooth, smooth is fast. He looks like he’s barely trying, but he’s faster than me even when I’m working hard. No strain in his body. He kept looking back, waving me on, slowing down, waiting. And there’s something slightly confronting about that — that my working-hard pace is his easy pace. But it also made very clear where the work is.

As the laps went on, something shifted — the runs actually started feeling easier. The second half always feels stronger, I’ve noticed this in training too. Burpees, sled pull, we split things roughly 50-50. Friends were cheering from the side, people from different parts of life showing up in the same place. That felt good.

Then the sandbag lunges. Man. Every step digging into the knees. I kept thinking I should have worn knee guards. Kettlebell carry, surprisingly, was easy.

And then — the wall balls. A hundred of them at the end is just brutal. Kabir has been rehabbing a shoulder and still stepped in and did his share. That was gutsy.

I did get annoyed with the judging. Same effort, different calls — it got to me more than it should have. But we kept going.

We finished the hundredth wall ball and ran to the finish.

I don’t remember the last few seconds as clearly as I thought I would. We crossed. Two hours, three minutes. We hugged, stepped off, looked around for someone to take a photo — but it didn’t happen. No pause. No real moment. Watching other teams jump, celebrate, pull out flags — it struck me later how much I underplayed it. Kabeer, too, in his own way.

I should have stayed there a little longer. Just stood still and let it land.

We went out for lunch after. I wasn’t hungry — felt like I’d throw up if I ate anything. Instead I chugged half a litre of ice-cold wheat beer. That first cold gulp. Man, that was good.

And just like that, it was over.

I’ve been sitting with this thought since. That was it? It felt a little underwhelming, which is strange to say. But maybe that’s what it’s supposed to feel like when training works. The rest day I resisted was the thing that made it possible. The ease I didn’t trust was already there. The body knew. I was just the last to find out.

The massage. The ice cream. The finish line I walked away from too quickly.

All the same thing, I think.

You know how they say when you’re drinking a good whiskey, you let it sit in your mouth, move it around, let the flavours open up before you swallow?

Yeah.

I swallowed too soon.

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Originally published on Substack on 12 April 2026. Read on Substack →