My First Hyrox: Tears, Triumphs, and Power-Ups

My first Hyrox is an experience I’ll always remember—it was emotional, challenging, and deeply rewarding. Those who know me know I’m not exaggerating when I say I cried through most of it, but it wasn’t just about the physical effort; it was the emotional release and the life lessons I gained along the way.

It all started back in June when my best friend asked me to sign up for the race. My first reaction? “No way, man!” I’ve never considered myself a competitive person, and the idea of pushing myself to my absolute limits didn’t sound appealing. But I decided to say yes. I was feeling stuck with my regular workouts, teaching classes, and doing my daily routines. I needed something new, something to train for—and that’s where Hyrox came in.

Training wasn’t easy, but I wouldn’t say it was difficult either. It was just different—and honestly, it was refreshing! I hadn’t trained like that in over 20 years, and definitely not with my current understanding of the mind and body from a trauma-informed lens. My home base, F45 Port Credit, is an official Hyrox gym partner, so we had structured workouts and simulations to prepare us. Every Saturday, we ran through the race stations—SkiErg, sled pushes, sled pulls, broad jump burpees, rowing, farmer’s carry, sandbag lunges, and of course, the infamous wall balls—all while running 1k between each station. We focused on building our endurance for the big day. The training was intense, but I balanced it with yoga therapy and somatic practices to manage the tension building in my body. Without those, I’m sure I would have burned out quickly.

As the event day approached, I would have been ready—except for one little detour. I spent three of the last four weeks of training in Italy, indulging in homemade meals, sipping limoncello, and enjoying life. It was worth it, but let’s just say I wasn’t exactly in peak condition when I got back. I had just 10 days and a few workouts to recondition myself before race day. Despite that, my goal wasn’t to win or even hit a certain time. It was simply to finish, to cross that line with my arms up in a victory pose.

Walking into the venue, I was immediately hit with a wave of emotion. The energy was infectious—people everywhere, decked out in their gear, taking photos, and getting ready to race. I couldn’t help but tear up. This was real. I was here, about to compete in something I’d never imagined doing. As I walked in, I was greeted by a sea of shirtless men running their laps—I mean, is this heaven?

When the race started, I kept it slow. I had no illusions about blasting through the course. I reminded myself: “Your goal is to finish, not to rush.” But even at that pace, emotions surged. I was doing this on my own, but I wasn’t alone. Every now and then, I’d hear someone shout, “You got this, Paul!” I’d look over and see my friends from F45 cheering me on, or even complete strangers offering their support. At one point, I spotted my partner in the crowd, throwing me a little wave, and that’s when I lost it. I burst into tears—big, cathartic sobs—while still running as the whole venue watched me. It was beautiful. In that moment, I felt all the love, all the support, and all the emotion I’d been holding onto.

The cry was exactly what I needed. After that, I felt lighter, energized, and ready to go. It was as if every time someone cheered me on, they were handing me a power-up, like in a video game. I’d collect their energy, and it pushed me forward. That’s when I started doing the same for others. As I passed racers on the track, I’d shout, “You got this!” Some were surprised, while others thanked me. One guy at the end of the race told me how much it helped him, and that made me feel even better. That exchange of energy kept me going.

But Hyrox is no joke, and the challenges came fast. The toughest for me was the sled pull. It took me a full nine minutes—every pull was intense. I kept repeating to myself, “One more pull, one more breath,” and that mantra got me through. It’s funny how sometimes the simplest mindset—just taking the next step, the next breath—can push you through what seems impossible.

Finally, I made it to the wall balls, the last station. I had 100 of them to complete. I knew my form wasn’t perfect, so I asked for a bucket to gauge my squats. As I pushed through those reps, I cried again. I wasn’t tired or sore—I was releasing all the tension and anxiety I’d been carrying. The emotion was bursting out, and it felt liberating. I knew people were wondering if I was hurt, but no—this was a cathartic cry, the kind that happens when you let go of everything weighing you down.

At the final stretch, I could hear the crowd, and I heard my volunteer counting me down: “Eight more! Seven more!” I pushed through, hit 100 wall balls, and ran to the finish line. Arms up in that V for victory—just like I had promised myself.

Crossing that finish line was pure joy. I sat down and let myself cry one more time, but this time, they were tears of triumph. I did it! I finished at 1:46—not bad considering my Italian holiday added about 10 minutes to my time. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that I showed up, I finished, and I learned something powerful along the way.

Life Lesson #1: I’m stronger than I think.

Showing up—even when I didn’t think I was at my best—proved I could do more than I realized. I was reminded that it’s not about perfect preparation; it’s about perseverance.

Life Lesson #2: I’m never really alone.

Even when I thought I was running solo, the cheers from friends, strangers, and even my inner voice reminded me that support is everywhere—I just need to be open to receiving it.

I’ll definitely do this race again. With more focused training and no Italian vacations in the middle (okay, maybe at least not so close to race day!). But more than anything, I’ll do it for the community, the camaraderie, and the incredible realization that I am capable of so much more than I ever thought. Hyrox has my heart, and I’ll be back.

—Paul