From creaking joints at 40 to a HYROX podium! This is the raw, honest story of an unexpected journey: the impulsive ‘yes,’ the art of almost quitting, and the incredible physical and mental transformation that led to an unimaginable victory. It’s proof you can begin again, at any age, in any shape.
I didn’t start out wanting to do HYROX. In fact, I didn’t even know what HYROX was.
I was just a guy in his forties who’d wake up sore every morning, limping to the washroom with foot pain and joints that creaked. My body wasn’t screaming at me yet…it was just quietly suggesting that maybe, just maybe, I needed to change something.
I’d read about the Misogi Challenge somewhere – the idea of doing one outrageously difficult thing each year to redefine what you think you’re capable of. I’ve never been disciplined enough to follow it annually, but once every decade or so, I do end up stumbling into something that fundamentally changes me.
Ten years ago, it was those solo-ish trips to Leh and Spiti with people I barely knew. This year, it turned out to be HYROX.
The moment that changed everything
It happened during a casual football session. Someone threw out the question like they were asking about weekend plans: “Anyone up for doing HYROX?”
For reasons I still can’t fully explain, I raised my hand.
This was completely out of character for me. I’m not the guy who speaks up in group settings, and I’m definitely not the type to volunteer for what essentially amounts to organized torture. But something about that moment felt different. Maybe it was desperation disguised as courage.
And almost immediately…
I regretted it.
The art of almost quitting
Let me count the ways I nearly backed out:
Right after I raised my hand: The reality of what I’d just committed to hit me like a cold shower.
Day 1 of the training program: Walking into a gym filled with shirtless, ripped athletes who lifted weights like they were picking up coffee cups. I felt like I’d wandered into the wrong movie.
Every single time I had to run longer distances: My lungs staged a full rebellion, and I questioned every life choice that had led me to this moment.
When I realized I didn’t have a training partner: Watching everyone else pair up while I stood there like the last kid picked for a team sport made me wonder if I belonged there at all.
When I discovered I didn’t even have a race ticket: Registrations had closed – I was literally training for an event I wasn’t technically entered in. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
But despite every rational reason to quit, despite my brain’s increasingly urgent suggestions to find an exit strategy, I kept showing up.
Maybe it was pride. Perhaps it was the fear of being known as the guy who talks big but doesn’t deliver. Maybe I just needed to prove something to the person in the mirror who’d been disappointing me for too long.
Whatever it was, it worked.
When everything clicked
By week three, something shifted.
I wasn’t just surviving the workouts anymore, I was actually looking forward to them. What started as two grudging sessions a week began expanding into something that resembled a lifestyle. I added strength training. Started going on longer runs. Incorporated mobility work. I began eating like someone who actually cared about their body, sleeping like recovery mattered, and feeling like a person who was worth investing in.
A huge part of that shift was thanks to Tom (Coach) and Calfunc. He pushed all of us — and he pushed us right. Enough to break limits, but never form. Enough to chase results, but never shortcuts.
The transformation wasn’t just physical. There was something psychological happening too, a rebuilding of trust with myself, one workout at a time.
Finding my partner
Then came Amit.
We got paired up only a week before the event, and I’ll be honest, I was really nervous. He was stronger, faster, more experienced. Everything I wasn’t. I worried I’d be the weak link that would drag down his race.
But sometimes the best partnerships are the ones you don’t see coming. On race day, we clicked like a machine that had been calibrated for months instead of days. We paced each other through every station, cheered each other through the pain, and pushed forward side by side when our individual reserves ran empty.
D-Day: From survival to victory
Two months of training. Two simulation runs that had left me questioning my sanity. One incredibly patient training partner.
This wasn’t just about finishing anymore. It had evolved into something bigger, about not letting Amit down, not letting my kids down, and most importantly, not letting myself down again.
And we didn’t just finish. We didn’t just survive.
We won our category.
Standing on that podium, HYROX flag in hand, I couldn’t help but think about the journey from limping to the bathroom just months earlier to this moment. It felt surreal, like someone else’s life that I’d accidentally stepped into.
What HYROX actually gave me
Here’s the thing about HYROX – it wasn’t really about HYROX.
It was about momentum. About rediscovering that I could still surprise myself. It brought back discipline I thought I’d lost, focus I’d forgotten I had, and belief in possibilities I’d written off as belonging to other people.
Most importantly, it reminded me that you can begin again. At any age. In any shape. At any point in your life when you realize the current version isn’t working.
The real victory
But perhaps the greatest gift was what it gave me as a father, and it came after the race, not during it..
HYROX winners don’t get medals, they get a flag.
And seeing my younger one drape that flag around his shoulders like a cape and proudly strut across the venue, saying he was going to take it to school—that hit different.
But it wasn’t just about him.
Both my boys got to see their dad, a middle-aged guy who groans about getting out of bed, accomplish something he’d never even imagined attempting. They saw firsthand that you don’t have to stay on the same path forever. You can change your playground, learn new things, discover new versions of yourself, and find joy in the unknown.
You can win at things you thought were crazy to even attempt.
The proud son.
Looking back, none of this was about becoming an athlete or chasing fitness glory. It was about answering a simple question that life occasionally asks: “Are you willing to bet on yourself one more time?”
Sometimes the most transformative journeys begin with the most impulsive decisions. Ever so often, the person you’re meant to become is hiding behind one outrageous “YES” that you’re too scared to say.
Sometimes limping to the bathroom is exactly where you need to start to find your way to the podium.
All it takes is raising your hand – even when you’re not sure why.
