When Calm Turns to Power

BUILDING TOWARD HYROX VANCOUVER

There is a subtle moment in every comeback that no one else sees. It isn’t written in numbers or measured in watts, splits, or heart-rate zones. It happens much more quietly than that — when the body finally stops asking questions and starts answering them again.

That’s where I am now.

Not “back,” and not “fixed.”
Just steady.

And that steadiness has changed everything about how I move through training.

After Toronto, every session felt like an experiment. I was listening more than pushing, testing more than committing, watching for signs and waiting for permission. Now, that has shifted. The questions are quieter. The confidence is steadier. The rhythm is returning. The engine is beginning to hum again.

The biggest change since October hasn’t been a specific workout or metric on a screen. It’s been a shift in relationship — with effort, with recovery, and with my own nervous system.

Removing caffeine and alcohol was the first step. At the time, it felt like a reset. Now it simply feels like how I live. My sleep is deeper. My breath is slower. My mornings are clearer. I don’t feel like I’m borrowing energy anymore — I feel like I’m accumulating it. And as that baseline has steadied, my training has naturally wanted to evolve with it. Not by force, but by invitation.

The Low-HR HYROX Flow sessions that began as a cautious experiment have now become a central pillar of my training. They no longer feel like restriction — they feel like precision. Working at race loads while keeping the heart calm has trained something deeper than fitness alone: patience under pressure, economy of movement, efficient transitions, composed breathing, and muscles that fire without excess tension.

And the more I repeat this, the more I understand something simple and powerful:

Intensity doesn’t disappear when you train calmly.
It gets refined.

I’m no longer trying to prove that I can suffer. That chapter has already been written. Now I am proving something different — that I can move efficiently under load, recover quickly between efforts, and stay present inside the work. Strength, when built slowly and intentionally, lasts longer.

Something else has started to happen as well. Even though most of my work has been calm and controlled, speed has begun to return on its own. My stride is lighter. My turnover is natural again. My posture is tall. My breathing is clean. It reminds me of Nordic skiing — when technique improves, speed follows without being chased. That is exactly what’s happening now.

The structure of my training remains simple:

• Three Low-HR HYROX Flow sessions

• Two to three steady engine sessions (BikeErg, SkiErg, or run)

• One to two technical strength or skill sessions

• One upper-aerobic “surge and settle” day

What has changed is my relationship to the work. Where I once used heart rate to limit myself, I now use it as confirmation. If breathing is smooth, posture is strong, and recovery is quick, I continue. The number does not decide — the body does. And the body is saying yes.

This has created a different kind of confidence. Not one built on ego, time, or rank — but on alignment.

Am I training with respect?
Am I sleeping well?
Am I fueling properly?
Am I honouring the body that carries me through this life?

If the answer is yes, the outcome becomes secondary. And ironically, that is often when the best outcomes appear.

HYROX Vancouver is no longer a symbol of redemption or pressure. It is simply the next place I will show up fully. I don’t need to chase it, and I don’t need to fear it. I am building toward it quietly, steadily, and intelligently.

And when I step onto that floor, the only goal will be this:

To move in rhythm with the version of myself I have spent the past months rebuilding —
no panic, no ego, no rush…
just control, breath, and presence under load.

And that is where I am strongest now.

The most important thing I’ve learned since Toronto isn’t a specific workout or recovery trick. Progress is rarely loud. Healing is rarely dramatic. True change is almost invisible.

But if you stay long enough…
quiet enough…
and honest enough…

you feel it.

And when you feel it, you know you are back —
not the same…

but better.

Calmer.
More precise.
More you.