How your coach
is evolving.

Your gym work counts. Strength, yoga and other cross-training were showing up in your log but weren’t feeding into your fitness and fatigue at all — so a week with four gym sessions in it read as a light week. That’s fixed: the time you put in now registers, I can see how long each session was, and your weekly card gives it a line of its own instead of “0 km”.

Hills read as hills, not bad pacing. Running up something steep slows you down — that’s the hill, not you fading. I now judge your pace against the terrain you actually ran, kilometre by kilometre, and where the ground makes pace meaningless I say so and read the session on effort instead of inventing a verdict.

Your weekly card tells the truth about your week. It was crediting a session on the day it was planned rather than the day you did it — so it could tick off a Thursday you spent on the sofa. It also under-counted some weeks outright. Both sorted: if you moved a session, it says so and names the day.

A heart-rate ceiling I won’t cross. If a doctor has capped your heart rate, tell me once and I hold that line everywhere — sessions, targets, and every bit of advice — rather than remembering it only in conversation.

I only mention last night if I actually have last night. The morning check-in could describe yesterday’s sleep and HRV as though they were this morning’s, when your watch simply hadn’t synced yet. Now I either have today’s numbers or I ask you — I don’t guess how you slept.

Plans that line up with real weeks. Your training weeks now sit inside proper Monday–Sunday calendar weeks, “this week” is worked out on your clock rather than mine, a change you never confirmed can’t quietly stick, a mid-week break is honoured as the days you actually said, and I’ve stopped editing blocks that are already finished. Your Sunday plan also arrives every time it’s rebuilt — a few used to be written and never sent.

A much longer thread. Older parts of our conversation were being dropped without anything standing in for them, so context quietly fell off a cliff. I now hold far more of it, and keep a running summary of the rest.

Optional: where you trained. Turn it on in /settings and I’ll note the town or city a session started in, so “that run felt awful” can account for you being somewhere hot, hilly or 30 °C. Deliberately coarse — town level, never a specific place — and off unless you ask for it.

What would make my coaching sharper. A short checklist in /settings shows which signals I’ve got and which I haven’t — heart rate, a goal, your session names, the odd effort rating — so it’s clear what’s actually worth your time rather than a vague nag to “add more data”.

Quicker, and tidier. Replies come back noticeably faster, the new-activity heads-up has buttons instead of needing you to type, and a long list of smaller rough edges are gone — the sort you only notice by them no longer happening.

Your overnight recovery, first thing. If you wear a Garmin, just tap how you slept and I’ll pull your overnight numbers — HRV, sleep, resting heart rate and readiness — and weigh them into the morning. A rough night and I ease the day back; a strong one and I’ll happily lean in.

Kinder to triathletes and mixed-sport weeks. If your training spans swim, bike and run, I no longer add it all up as though it were one enormous running week — so your load reads right and you don’t get warnings that make no sense.

Getting started is smoother. Building your first plan now sets an honest expectation and keeps you posted while it works, so you’re never left wondering if it froze. If you drift off part-way through setup I pick things back up rather than leave you stuck, nudge you back sooner when your plan’s a tap from ready, and point you to finishing up instead of a dead “no plan yet” if you ask early.

Sharper under the hood. Plan building is more reliable, I keep the thread on our longer conversations, and a scatter of smaller rough edges are smoothed away — mostly things you’ll only notice by them quietly working.

Your training paces, put right. I spotted that some of the paces I hand out were set too fast — I’ve recalibrated them against the established coaching tables, so your easy, threshold and interval paces (and the heart-rate zones behind them) are properly dialled in. If “easy” felt too quick, that’s sorted.

I stay in the present. A race you’ve already finished, a cold that’s cleared, a heavy week that’s behind you — I no longer raise them as if they’re still live, or let a fortnight-old “took it easy” note keep steering this week. What I coach on is where you are today.

Plans that go all the way to your goal. When I build or refresh your plan it now runs the right length — right through to your goal race, without stopping short at a warm-up event along the way or trailing on for weeks past it. And each week’s effort matches your phase, not a leftover note.

I keep to your constraints. Tell me the days you can’t train, or a weekly ceiling, and I hold to them across the whole plan — not just the week in front of us.

I keep your trips straight. Two different trips a few weeks apart no longer blur into one in my memory, so I don’t muddle what happened when.

Smoother all round. Building a plan in chat no longer leaves you waiting; long messages arrive whole instead of getting clipped; signing in is a single tap with Strava; and your race countdown counts down to the actual day.

Even more careful with the facts. I’ve tightened things further so I only tell you what your data really shows — no guessing a number I can’t see, and no claiming I’ve changed something unless it’s genuinely done.

If you go quiet, I ask — I don’t nag. Drift off for a while and I’ll check in once and genuinely ask what’s up (too many messages? lost the thread?) and act on it, rather than pestering you.

Your morning check-in reads the day. Rather than running through a fixed routine, I now weigh how you’re doing against what’s on the plan and lead with what matters most this morning — a gentle nudge, a heads-up, or just a clear steer for the session ahead.

I learn your patterns — and let them go when they change. Over the weeks I pick up the habits behind your training (the day you tend to miss, the kind of week that tends to leave you flat) and keep checking them against what actually happens, so a hunch only sticks while it’s still true.

One honest read on where you’re at. Your training load, fatigue and freshness now come from a single daily read, so what I say in chat lines up with your numbers instead of quietly contradicting them.

When I say it’s done, it’s done. If I tell you I’ve saved a change, logged a result or updated your plan, that’s a real change you can count on — not just a friendly nod.

When I ask, I listen for the answer. Tell me a goal, a recent race time, your FTP or your weight — right after I’ve asked, or just in passing — and I act on it: I’ll draft the plan, save the time and reset your paces, instead of only nodding along.

Mention a result and it sticks. Say “ran a 10k in 44:30” and I’ll log it and recalibrate your training paces from it — no command, no form.

Hurt or feeling off comes first. If you mention a sore knee or a rough day alongside a result, I lead with that — how you’re doing matters more than the split — and I still keep the time on file.

Ask for your paces, get them. “What are my easy paces?”, “what should my threshold be?” — I’ll work them out from your fitness on the spot, even before you’ve set heart-rate zones.

Straight answers, grounded in your data. Ask about your races, PBs or numbers and I answer from what’s actually on your record — and if I haven’t got it, I’ll say so and offer to add it, rather than guessing.

Overnight plan tune-ups. Each night I check your plan against how your training is actually going. If something has drifted, I’ll propose a small change in your morning check-in — always your call to accept.

Everything is free, for everyone. No more premium tier, no trial that runs out — every feature, including the weekly adaptation and proactive adjustments, is open to all. If it helps your training, you can buy me a coffee to keep it running.

I read how you’re doing — not just your splits. When a week’s been heavy or you’re feeling flat, I lead with support and ease the training back; when you’re flying, I lean in. Same coach, different bedside manner depending on the day.

I back off when you want space. If my nudges keep going unread, I notice and go quiet — no guilt-trips. Anything safety-related still reaches you, and a single reply brings me straight back.

Flexible weeks for real life. Some weeks won’t bend to a fixed schedule. Switch one to a flexible week and it becomes “do any four of these six, any day” — and your races stay pinned to their dates.

Tell me you’re ill or hurt — I’ll adjust and ease you back. Mention a cold, a niggle, or a rough patch and I’ll pull the load back, then walk you through a sensible return rather than dropping you into full training cold.

Build a plan just by talking. No form to fill in — tell me your goal in chat (“I want a sub-2 half in October”) and I’ll draft the whole plan right there.

A longer memory. I hold onto what matters — an injury, a goal you’ve changed, something you mentioned only once — and I stop bringing up things you’ve clearly moved past.

Walking counts. Walking and hiking are first-class now, planned by time on your feet rather than pace — handy for easy days, recovery and base-building.

Fairer recaps, plainer notes. Your Sunday recap now credits cross-training and sessions you rescheduled, reads like it’s talking to you, and I’ve stopped guessing numbers I can’t actually see.

Reschedule by just asking. “Move my easy run to tomorrow”, “push my long run to next Saturday”, “I can’t run Thursday — skip it”. I’ll shuffle sessions within the week or across weeks, swap one onto a rest day, or skip it and offer to move it instead. You always see exactly what’ll change before you confirm.

Your training, your call. Want a longer-than-usual long run, or to bend the plan around real life? I’ll do it. I’ll flag things worth knowing, but I won’t gate-keep your choices.

/today tells you how hard — and why. Each session now shows a target pace and a one-line reason it’s there, so you can head out the door without asking.

Plans that explain themselves. A new plan arrives with a short note on the thinking behind it. Every Sunday when I refresh the week ahead, I tell you what I changed and why (e.g. “eased it ~15% — last week ran hard and you flagged your knee”). And when you switch goals, I make it clear your fitness carries forward — you’re not starting from zero.

Plainer language. Fatigue and fitness nudges now say what they mean, instead of leaning on jargon like TSB/CTL.

Edits that stick. Plan changes are more reliable now, and if something genuinely can’t be done you get a clear reason and a way forward — never a dead end.

Goals beyond races. Tell me what you’re chasing — a race, an FTP number, a goal pace, just staying consistent, or your health — and it shapes the plan I write, not only our chats. Set them with /objectives.

Much easier to talk to. Just say what you mean: “/objectives done the marathon”, “/races remove London”, “/constraints no riding on Mondays” — no remembering exact syntax. The menu is trimmed to the essentials and there’s one /settings hub for everything.

A coach that knows you. I read how you’re feeling, remember what motivates you and how you like to be supported, mark your milestones, and ease off the pressure when you’re going through a rough patch.

More from Garmin. Alongside HRV and sleep, I now pull resting HR, VO2 Max, training readiness, body weight, and your auto FTP/LTHR — so recovery and pacing advice gets sharper.

Sharper day-to-day coaching. I spot efficiency trends, weigh hard days more than easy miles when judging fatigue, and stay aware of which training block you’re in.

New bits. /morning for an on-demand briefing, month-by-month distance breakdowns, and a Coaching rules page showing the principles I coach by.

Smoother & safer. Faster replies, a firmer line around niggles and illness, and a coach that stops repeating itself.

Remembers you properly. A three-layer memory means the things you tell me — a niggle, a preference, a goal — surface again months later when they matter, and a weekly tidy-up keeps it all coherent.