Warrior Gym

I have joined Warrior Gym.   I jog over in my run gear and find myself in a landscape populated by young, "looksmaxxing" bodybuilders glancing at their reflections in the wall-to-wall mirrors

By "joined," I only mean I sign up for a two week pass.  As runners can understand, I am totally reluctant to actually join the gym and pay a 32,000-yen initiation fee plus 22,000 yen a month. I carefully plan my summer around a rolling series of 14-day passes for 18,000 yen each. My calculation is that three of these two-week blocks fit perfectly into my summer travel schedule leading up to the Chiba Hyrox on August 7th. The remaining five weeks will be cobbled together with home workouts, a few drop-in sessions at places like the Seattle YMCA, and a long taper.

Finances aside, the logistics are ideal. Warrior Gym opened in March, sits just 900 meters from my apartment, and crucially houses all eight of the official Hyrox station setups.

Most importantly, it features a stretch of carpet that allows me to practice the sled push over a longer distance than the actual 12.5-meter event course. In my Yokohama race report, I remember crowing about how brilliantly strong and fast I felt on the sled. But upon reflection, I have to wonder how much that early bravado cost me. The shock of shifting 152 kg happens early in the race, and the feeling of being absolutely gutted immediately afterward seems to have cast a long shadow over the remaining stations. I’ve deemed the sled push my second most critical area of focus—not to get faster, but to learn how to survive it without ruining my running capability.

Despite my decades of endurance training, I immediately fell into the classic novice gym-membership conundrum: the desperate psychological need to justify the cost by showing up every single day.

An experienced athlete supposedly knows that performance gains are built on adaptive response and adequate recovery. An experienced athlete rests. Instead, I find myself wanting to go every day,  testing myself over and over against the exact same equipment.  Maybe that is why my actual Hyrox times haven't really improved since early days last year preparing for Yokohama.

Amidst the serious lifters flexing for the mirrors, a genuine Hyrox subculture has emerged. I even manage to make friends and bonding with friendly fellow competitors like Hiroo, Adam, and a local couple as we collectively struggle with carpet friction and rope management.

So, I keep walking the 900 meters back to my convenient, mirror-filled sanctuary every day. I might not be improving or looksmaxxing or identify as a "warrior", but I am finding the 14 days at Warrior Gym rewarding.