Reese's Hyrox Anaheim Race Recep

My First HYROX: Chaos, Mistakes, Grit, and Why I’ll Be Back

I’m still trying to wrap my head around my first HYROX race.

It was chaotic, brutal, humbling, electric - and honestly one of the most intense fitness experiences I’ve ever had. A ton of people messaged me asking how it went, so here’s the full breakdown: the race itself, what surprised me, where it went wrong, and why I already want another shot at it.

[full text breakdown below the video if you want to read instead of watch]https://vimeo.com/1156681994?share=copy&fl=sv&fe=ci

The Start: Adrenaline and Controlled Chaos

I got a solid warm-up in - some light running, touched a few stations - then lined up in the start pen under the massive Red Bull arch with the rest of the Men’s Pro heat. The music, the noise, the crowd… the energy was unreal. Everyone’s hyped, everyone’s nervous, and then suddenly - you’re off.

The format is simple on paper:

1 km run → workout station → repeat (8 times)

In reality? It’s absolute controlled chaos.

There are people everywhere. Different heats, different paces, constant weaving. You’re running by feel more than anything. I don’t race with a smart watch, so I was just trying to lock into what felt like ~6-minute miles and stay calm.

Station 1: Ski Erg (Confidence Boost)

The Ski Erg was first - one of the few stations I actually felt confident about. Coming from a ski racing background, this should’ve been my wheelhouse.

I intentionally went upper-body heavy to save my legs, knowing how leg-dominant the rest of HYROX is. It went well. Not perfect, but controlled. I came out somewhere around top 5–7 in my heat, feeling good and settled.

So far, so good.

Station 2: Sled Push (Unexpected High Point)

Then came the sled push - and this is where things got interesting.

I decided early: don’t stop. Push the full 12.5m every time, even if it burns. A lot of guys ahead of me were stopping to rest. I wasn’t.

One push… passed people.
Second push… passed more.
Third push… legs on fire.
Fourth push… empty the tank.

When I finished, I realized I was leading the Men’s Pro heat.

That was not on my bingo card.

Back to Running: Reality Sets In

Running immediately after the sled push is… unpleasant. Your legs are flooded. People from other heats are everywhere. You’re getting passed, passing others, trying to track position without really knowing where you stand.

A few elite runners flew by me, and I knew I was slipping back a bit - but still in the mix.

Station 3: Sled Pull (Damage Control)

The sled pull was always going to be tough. I threw my back out eight weeks before the race and hadn’t trained sled pulls at all leading in.

Between slick, sweaty hands, tangled ropes, line penalties, and just trying not to hurt myself, this station was about survival - not dominance. I didn’t gain ground, but I didn’t totally implode either.

At that point I figured I was somewhere mid-pack in the Pro heat.

The Big Mistake: Running an Extra Lap

This is where everything unraveled.

I finished my run and turned into what I thought was the burpee broad jump station… and it was empty. No athletes there. The guys I had just been running, with, or getting passed by slowly… weren’t there. I couldn’t see anyone.

In a split-second decision - knowing missed laps equal disqualification - I made a calculated decision and ran another lap.

Turns out, there was a second burpee lane I didn’t see.

I ran an entire extra ~500m.

My wife was screaming at me from the crowd, “COME BACK!!!”. I never heard her.

That mistake cost me two full minutes and completely blew up my race position. It was instantly demoralizing. Everyone I had been racing against was now way ahead.

But… I had to keep going.

Burpee Broad Jumps & The Mental Battle

Burpee broad jumps are brutal no matter what - but now I was chasing instead of racing.

From here on out, every run became a mental fight. I was overheating, heart rate high, legs heavy. I tried to shut my brain off and just move - but it was hard to find rhythm again after the mistake.

Rowing: Temporary Relief

The row was a small relief. It’s more full-body, less pounding on the legs, and something I’m reasonably good at.

Still painful. Still long. But manageable.

Back on the run, I tried to flush the legs for 15-20 seconds, then build speed again. It never felt good - but I kept moving.

Farmer’s Carry: My Weakest Point

This one hurt.

Grip strength is not my strength. Sitting at a desk most of the day doesn’t exactly prepare you for carrying 70 lbs in each hand for 200 meters - especially when everything is slick with sweat.

I had hoped to go 100 meters before resting. I made it about 40.

From there it was 20 meters at a time, forearms blown, fingers barely hanging on, watching time bleed away. I lost at least 1–2 minutes here compared to the top guys.

That one stung.

Sandbag Lunges: Grinding It Out

The lunges were tough but manageable. 60 lbs on the shoulders, 100 reps, knee to the ground every time.

They hurt - but I didn’t fall apart. I held steady, and mentally that felt like a win.

The final run after lunges is awful. Your legs are toast. Running fast is almost comical. But it’s the last run, and you know what’s coming next.

Wall Balls: A Brutal Finish

Wall balls were everything people warned me about - and worse.

Men’s Pro: 20-lb ball, 10-foot target, 100 reps.

I hadn’t trained them in eight weeks because of my back. And with the heavier ball and strict judging, it unraveled fast.

No-reps.
Burning shoulders.
Legs on fire.
Watching the counter not move after a full rep.

I probably did 120 wall balls to get credit for 100.

It was humbling. Painful. Mentally exhausting.

But eventually… it was over.

The Finish & The Reality Check

You sprint the last 10 meters, cross the line, and immediately lie on the floor trying to breathe.

My clock time was 1:17, while my race time was 1:24, which includes:

2 minutes from the extra lap
7 minutes of penalties (lines, no-reps, small mistakes)

Realistically?

Without the extra lap: 1:15
Racing with my heat instead of solo: probably ~1:10
With cleaner execution and training: 1:05 is possible

That excites me.

Final Takeaways

HYROX is legit.

The energy. The scale. The format. The balance of strength and endurance. It’s brutal without being dangerous. No flashy lifts. No gimmicks. Just work.

I made mistakes - but that’s part of a first race. And now I know exactly what I’d train, what I’d ignore, and how much time is sitting there waiting to be taken.

If you’re thinking about doing a HYROX - do it.

And if you want to avoid the dumb mistakes I made, DM me. I’m happy to help.

This definitely won’t be my last one.