Hyrox Glasgow 2024

I'd known about Hyrox for ages, but it was only when my mate Abi asked if I wanted to join her for a doubles attempt last October that I really looked closely at the details. On paper, it does seem doable. Hard, but doable. 

For those in the dark, Hyrox is a fitness race which combines running with functional, high intensity and strength-based exercises, all mashed together in one giant workout. You do 8 x 1km runs, and after each run you do an exercise station:

1. 
   1km SkiErg (it's like an upright rowing machine)
2. 2 x 25m Sled Push
3. 2 x 25m Sled Pull
4. 80m Burpee Broad Jumps (chest-to-floor burpee with a two-footed jump forward)
5. 1km Row
6. 200m Farmers Carry (basically carrying two kettlebells)
7. 80m Sandbag Lunges
8. 75 Wall Balls (full depth squat then throwing a weighted ball at an overhead target)

I trained hard last summer, particularly for the heavier strength-stuff, very conscious of my weight-to-sled ratio. Then, the Wednesday before our Saturday race, I tore a hip flexor and couldn't race. I couldn't even walk properly for a couple of walks and it was more than two months before I could properly lunge again, disaster.

In a moment of sadness/frustration/hope/beer-drinking, I booked a solo ticket for Glasgow and prayed for recovery.

On walking in to the Scottish Event Centre, it was far busier and looked way more chaotic than I had anticipated. The music was banging, you could taste the perspiration of the thousands of participants in the air, and crowds of spectators were screaming and cheering their pals. I'd booked into a judging shift the day before my race, which I hoped would give me a lot more insight about what to expect.

This is already going to be quite long so I won't tell you everything about the judging experience except to say that it was fun, long, so very loud and also tiring and probably not something I'd choose to do again on the day before racing. Some people do properly try to cheat, whilst the majority of people just make silly mistakes because they're so exhausted that they can't think straight.

The judges WhatsApp chat confirmed that this was indeed "the most vomity" event in the history of Hyrox thus far, and the accompanying pictures reinforced my plan not to drink the Red Bull provided at the aid stations in the Roxzone (the bit in between the running area and the exercise stations). So there was my insight.

I hadn't seen the warm up area until I rocked up, ready to start my race on the Sunday. It was a big space with all the bits of the equipment you'd see in the race. Hardcore, muscled women with cannonball shoulders were glistening with sweat and doing what looked to me like a full workout session as their warm up.

In the starting pen, there was a growing aroma of armpit and hairspray (hairspray - retrospectively - might have been a good idea). Everyone around me looked very fit; I started to feel a nervous anticipation, especially when the countdown started and huge 'bongs' blasted out of the speakers above us. I took a deep breath, and thought about a piece of advice my friend Naomi had given me.

"In the first half, don't be an idiot. In the second half, don't be a wimp."

Go time.

More than half the other women in my wave literally sprinted off the start line. My natural instinct told me to give chase but I decided to stick with the plan and not be an idiot. In fact, I was so sensible I almost bored myself. First run done, into the Roxzone, didn't even make eye contact with the Red Bull, took a shot of water (the size that should be provided at all events, in my opinion) and headed into the first station.

SkiErg, done. I kept to a comfortable pace; didn't want to hit threshold heart rate this early and I felt pretty pleased with myself for containing my excitement and maintaining this level of self-control. 

Now, this running. You have to do two and a bit laps to get your kilometre distance each time. The Roxzone has two giant inflatable gates, IN and OUT. When you exit, you have to run past the IN twice, and on the third time you see it, you go in. Simple, yes? Just count to three. 

There's an awful lot to think about while you run your kilometre. First, your immediate analysis of your own performance on the last station, then your mental preparation for the next station, all whilst dodging the hundreds of other people who are running. On every single run, I doubted my own counting as I saw the IN for the second time. Had it not been for the running time on my Garmin, I think the counting could have broken me. It's absolutely not worth missing a lap for the five minute penalty either.

Sled push. I'd trained hard for this as I'd been so worried about the weight and the training paid off. It's not really possible to do this one easy, you just have to do it and it does send the heart rate through the roof but I was taking the runs easy and I still felt great. 

Onto the sled pull. This was hard and felt heavier than I expected it to feel. The ropes were stretchier than the ones I'd used for training and it was an effort. Nonetheless, it got done and I was glad to be past the sleds as those were the stations I thought I could fail on.

It was boiling hot in the arena and I wished I'd worn fewer clothes. I stopped for one or two shots of water each time through the Roxzone, but I took three on the approach to burpees as I knew this was going to be brutal and I was excited for it.

I went in with full gusto and after about 30m I think I might have reached a lifetime PB on heart rate, at which point I discovered that this pace was entirely unsustainable. After 50m, I really, really wished that I'd stuck to the 'not being an idiot' plan for just a touch longer. I didn't have to stop but I slowed significantly and spaced my jumps badly so the last one had to be a really giant one.

My original plan was to take the next run and the row as a recovery, which I was forced into whether I wanted to or not, because those burpees really are monstrous. I got some mega fist bumps and whoops from judges I knew in the station which gave me a proper boost.

The running still felt good, on each run I would take the first lap a bit easier and pick it up a little in the second. 

Next up, farmers, another one I'd done a lot of training for as my grip strength is terrible. Overall this ended up being my best station, in terms of how I felt and how I ranked. I won't say it felt easy, but I got through it rapidly, felt strong and didn't have to put the KBs down at all. Started the run, legs definitely a little fatigued.. but this was actually going alright.

Now, those who know me know that lunges are my thing. I felt confident about the next station and I might have even run a teeny bit faster (or felt like I did) to get to it.

Chucking the sandbag onto my shoulders, I went in at pace. I was only maybe ten or twelve lunges in when suddenly my legs wouldn't move as quickly any more. I could feel my hamstrings, they felt tight and the movement wasn't coming easy.

I had to revert to a stand in between each lunge, rather than lunging continuously, and this made me feel sad deep inside my soul. I chucked the sandbag back into the pile at the end of the station (side note: funniest thing I saw on my second judging shift after my race was someone flicking the V to their sandbag at the end of this station) and started running. This run definitely felt a bit more laboured, but it was the last one, and I was ready for my final station, the dreaded wall balls. My nemesis.

I hadn't been able to practise with the correct weighted ball for this but I knew my squats were good. I wasn't sure how hard the extra weight would feel but in training I'd been boshing multiple sets of 10-15.

I ran in, picked up the ball, time to not be a wimp. The first rep felt hard and as I squatted for the second rep, my legs just gave up entirely and I fell backwards. This was going to be an excruciatingly long 75 reps. 

I actually felt a bit sorry for the volunteer who was counting my reps. She was really trying to encourage me to just do sets of five at the very least. It's like the panic had set in, my heart rate was sky high, I could feel my blood pulsing in my ears and I just ran out of steam. I was doing sets of one or two and having to rest the ball down, it was genuinely embarrassing. 

At 25 I got a mini second wind. I managed a few sets of six, only two no reps (one for squat depth and one for missing the target). This was taking FOREVER. I felt like I'd never squatted before, my whole body felt like it was crashing. 

50. Wow. It should have felt like I was nearly done but it might as well have been 500. I gave myself a talking to and then out of nowhere I managed a set of 12 and a set of 9, resting the ball in between. Everyone either side of me had finished, I was out there on my own. 2 sets of 2 to finish and there was zero sprint in me as I ran through the finish, absolutely elated.

Within about 20 seconds I'd gone through an entire process of "I'm never doing that again" to "I definitely want to do that again", all whilst considering downing a can of Red Bull and choosing 'protein water' instead (peach tea flavour, in case you wondered). 

My eyes burned with sweat and I contemplated whether or not to do my trademark pose of a lunge for my finishing photo, just in case I couldn't get back up again. After two bottles of protein water, I went for it, but the photographer didn't capture my legs anyway, rubbish.

I'm not sure I spent much time being an idiot, but I need to do this again to prove to myself I'm not a wimp at wall balls, and for a better overall lunging experience. 

Overall, it's hard, it's hectic, it's a sensory overload and it's bloody brilliant. Manchester, here I come.