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- What a Hyrox Race Taught Me
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Welcome to The Movement Memo, a bi-weekly newsletter where I share actionable tips to help you live your best day ever, every day.
Today's Programming
Movement: 36-minute AMRAP
Quote: Aurelius on our mind
Lesson Learned: My hard-earned lesson from Hyrox Houston
Youtube: Founder’s Only Recap (attendee POV)
Optimization: The supplement I take to improve my V02 max
Today's Movement
Complete as many rounds as possible in 36 minutes (AMRAP):
80 cal echo bike
25 wall ball
12 burpee box jump overs
Hyrox Houston — redemption!
Today's Quote
“You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”
I thought control was strength.
That with enough planning, pressure wouldn’t break me. But life cracks everything—on purpose. It’s in the fracture that we finally see the truth.
The light doesn’t wait for perfection. It shines through the break.
Today's Lesson Learned:
What Hyrox Houston Taught Me:
Last week I competed at Hyrox, Houston – my last chance to qualify for the World Championships in Chicago.
One of my major goals for 2025 that I wrote down in my annual goal-setting process last December. And the timing of this race couldn’t have been worse for me. I had just finished hosting a Founder’s Only retreat for 30 entrepreneurs in Austin, Texas, jumped in the car, and raced to get to Houston before the starting gun went off…
I grabbed the rope—and knew something was wrong.
My hands were dripping.
The chalk bucket? Empty.
And suddenly, the sled pull—just one of eight stations—felt like the entire race.
The rope slipped.
And with it, the illusion that I was in control. My mind started spiraling. And the devil on my shoulder started taking control.
It’s funny how fast things change. And it’s funnier still: how much clarity lives inside that moment.
The Taste of Disappointment
After Vegas, I didn’t feel proud.
Yes, I raced hard. Yes, I finished strong. But when the adrenaline faded, I was left with something I couldn’t shake:
I wanted more.
Not from the race. From myself.
Because deep down, I knew I hadn’t executed like I could’ve. I hadn’t trained with the specificity or intention I was capable of. Vegas became my motivation – I wanted redemption.
Not because I lost.
But because I knew I didn’t take the actions to give myself the best chance to win.
My Entire Year Was Riding on Houston
So I set a number: sub - 1:03:00
My goal wasn’t just to hit a time. It was much deeper than that:
To prove I could build a performance from the inside out.
To prove I could respond—not just react.
To prove the work was working.
My goal was simple:
Sub-1:03
Win my age group (40–44)
Qualify for the World Championships in Chicago
Clear. Measurable. Mine.
I didn’t tell anyone – but this race was personal.
I Rebuilt My Entire Training Program
No fluff. Just focus.
I stripped my training back to what mattered:
20 miles/week of running—intervals, tempo, and zone 2 long runs.
Zone 4 efforts—40 to 60 minutes of sustainable pain.
Sunday partner workouts with Ty—compromised movement under fatigue.
Not random. Not reactive.
Intentional.
For the first time, I wasn’t just training to be fit.
I was training to be race-ready—to hold a rhythm, recover quickly, and stay mentally calm when things got loud.
But The Race Doesn’t Care About Your Plan
I’d just wrapped a 30-person Founder’s Only retreat in Austin.
Drove three hours to Houston.
Showed up 75 minutes before the race.
No taper. No precision.
Warm-up? Rushed.
Body? Tired.
But my mind? Strangely… steady. I was too busy to overthink.
And maybe that was the gift.
The First ½ of The Race Moved Well
I went out conservative.
Smooth. Felt strong on the runs. And the sled push (my biggest weakness in Vegas) was my best yet— I passed people and found a rhythm.
Then: the sled pull.
I reached into the chalk bucket… and it was empty.
My hands were wet. The rope slid. Every pull cost me.
Not just time—but composure.
I wrapped the rope. Dug in. Muscled through it.
But in my head? The spiral has already started.
The Devil On My Shoulder
Whenever we are doing something meaningful in life, when we are emotionally invested in the outcome, we have doubts.
And if we can not control them we lose – not because we didn’t prepare, but because we couldn’t maintain our composure. This is what separates those who are good from those who are great. The elite can consistently control their mind when everything starts to fall apart. When the devil on your shoulder starts to speak:
“You blew it.”
“That’s it—you’re done.”
“You’re not who you thought you were.”
“Same story as Vegas, just dressed differently.”
My breath went shallow. My legs got heavy. And doubt settled in like a fog.
That voice—the one we all hear eventually—doesn’t shout.
It whispers.
Just enough to slow you down.
Just enough to make you question if you should keep pushing.
When My Raced Turned (Again):
Burpee broad jumps.
I moved well. Passed a few. Then I caught Ryan McGuire—sub-63 guy.
And something clicked.
“If I’m with him, I’m still in this.”
It wasn’t a comeback. It was a decision. To keep showing up. To stop arguing with the moment.
To find presence inside the pain.
The Final Stretch
I could see the finish line. But I had to focus on my cues:
Row: smooth.
Farmer’s carry: unbroken.
Lunges: strong
Wall balls: 50 unbroken. Then grit.
I heard names being called—58 minutes. 59.
And I started doing the mental math in my head.
It would be close. But I had a chance… if I could find one final push.
My Result:
1:02:59
Not a second under.
Not a second over.
First in my age group. 8th overall.
Qualified for the World Championships.
But here’s the twist:
It didn’t feel like redemption.
It didn’t feel like “I won.”
It felt like I proved something quieter.
It was something deeper.
The Real Lesson
I’ve built businesses.
I’ve led teams.
I’ve failed, rebuilt, and fought through a thousand invisible races no one ever saw.
And what I’ve learned—again and again—is this:
The race will never go to plan. And that’s the point.
Because the point of the race isn’t to stay in control.
It’s to prove that even when you lose it, you won’t lose yourself.
That’s what Houston gave me.
Not a perfect performance. But proof that I can stay steady inside the chaos. That I can hear the voice of doubt—and still choose my own belief.
It’s not about the clean win – it’s about the dirty one.
The one you have to claw back – the one you build while everything’s falling apart.
That’s the one that changes you.
Today’s Youtube:
Today’s Optimization:
Most people in their 40s are watching their VO₂ max drop.
Mine just hit 68. That number isn’t luck. It’s not genetics.
It’s a reflection of how I train—and how I recover.
VO₂ max is one of the strongest predictors of longevity.
It’s not just about fitness—it’s about how efficiently your body can produce and use energy.
Cardiovascular health. Mitochondrial function. Cellular vitality. It’s all connected.
After age 30, most people lose ~10% of VO₂ max per decade.
It’s why energy dips. Recovery slows. Endurance fades. But I’m not interested in decline. I’m interested in optimization.
I take Mitopure by Timeline Nutrition because it supports mitochondrial health at the deepest level. It activates Urolithin A, a molecule that clears out damaged mitochondria and supports the creation of new, more efficient ones. This process—called mitophagy—is like spring cleaning for your cells.
Why does that matter?
Because your VO₂ max lives in your mitochondria.
If they’re not functioning at a high level, neither are you.
I don’t take this to slow aging. I take it to keep pushing boundaries in my 40s—and beyond. To keep riding. Surfing. Racing. Living full throttle.
If you want to raise your ceiling—not just delay your decline—start at the cellular level.
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Publisher: Eric Hinman
Editor-in-chief: Bobby Ryan