I rolled my eyes when I first heard about Hyrox. To my pragmatic Singaporean brain, Hyrox was the perfect midlife crisis scam. You pay $200 for the privilege of pushing your body to the limit for 90 minutes, yet you receive no race pack, no running singlet, and nothing but a measly patch and the right to brag on Instagram. Everyone was posting about it on social media. It was so damn… basic. By any economic metric, it’s a terrible deal. It was the fitness equivalent of $26 avocado toast. Most fitness marketing tries to sell you a transformation. They’ll promise you a ripped body or a six-pack. Hyrox is different because it doesn’t sell you a result; it sells you a struggle. It promises that the race will be hard, monotonous, and painful. And weirdly enough, that is exactly why I – a tired new dad – signed up...