HYROX, a marathon, or an Ironman: all three require suffering. But each comes with its own version of pain. Pain is not universal. The way your body and mind respond during a HYROX race is different from the suffering experienced in a marathon or an Ironman. Yet these disciplines are often lumped together under the same simplistic question: which one is harder?

That question misses the point. A more interesting question is: what kind of pain does each sport demand of you? And how can you learn to deal with that pain? What follows is a comparative exploration of the differences and similarities between suffering in HYROX, the marathon, and the Ironman.

Because these really are three different beasts. Just ask professional triathlete Joe Skipper. He thinks nothing of running a 50-kilometre training run on Christmas Day at 3:33 per kilometre, or riding a 12-hour time trial at an average speed of 43 km/h. Here he is competing at Pro HYROX London (1:05). The wall balls hurt just watching them.

The author of this piece has meanwhile turned himself inside out in all three disciplines as well. During the Singles Open at HYROX Amsterdam 2026, I was suffering so badly that I seriously wondered whether I would trade that experience for the final ten kilometres of the 2024 Rotterdam Marathon, which I finished in 2:38. And that final stretch was definitely no celebration, I can tell you.

Pain is a friend, not an enemy

Pain carries a negative connotation. Nobody wants to suffer. And no, endurance athletes are not sadomasochists. If they were, they would keep going after the finish line just to enjoy more pain — and that rarely happens. (With the exception of those who insist on “cool-down training” after a race. But never at race-level intensity or pain.)

The best book on pain, in my view, is The Gift of Pain by Philip Yancey. His central message is that pain is not the enemy, but an essential warning system that protects us from damage. By describing people who cannot feel pain at all, as well as patients with chronic pain, Yancey shows that the real problem is not pain itself, but its absence or malfunction. Learning to listen to pain — physical and emotional — leads to responsibility, boundaries, and ultimately healing.

With that idea in mind, let’s look at how pain manifests itself in HYROX, the marathon, and triathlon.

Dimension 1 — Physical suffering: Local fatigue vs. energy depletion

In HYROX, physical suffering is of a completely different nature than in a marathon or an Ironman. Let’s start with the marathon. Ideally, you can run comfortably until somewhere between kilometre 20 and 30. The first half is about restraint, pacing, and saving energy. You have time to greet familiar faces, drink, take a gel, sometimes even chat with the others in your group — all while knowing there will be a point where it stops being fun.

That point is when your legs start to hurt, cramps may appear, and you have to fight to keep your pace from slipping. Ideally this happens only in the final kilometres, but sometimes much earlier. Local muscular fatigue becomes the limiting factor.

A similar process unfolds in a full-distance triathlon, with one crucial difference: before the marathon, you’ve already swum 3.8 kilometres and cycled 180 kilometres. Those miles take their toll. And yet the suffering feels different from a standalone marathon. The sharp pain you feel at the end of a marathon doesn’t show up in quite the same way — simply because you’re too fatigued to run that fast. Suffering in an Ironman is duller, more diffuse, and often more mental than physical.

An Ironman is fundamentally a game of energy management. It demands an exceptional aerobic base, disciplined pacing, and a carefully balanced nutrition strategy. At the same time, strange physical things can happen. I remember an edition of the Almere triathlon where my right lower leg suddenly went numb while running. Completely asleep. I wondered: can you run with a numb lower leg? The answer turned out to be yes. Several kilometres later, to my great relief, the normal sensation returned.

What helps during Ironman suffering is that you’re usually only aware of whatever hurts the most at that moment — exactly as Yancey describes. Only after the finish does the pain fully unfold, in layers and stages, once the endorphins wear off. After finishing Almere 2006, I lay writhing on a stretcher for quite some time. The media wrote:

Runner-up Bert Flier crossed the line in Almere Haven completely shattered and had to recover for a long time in the medical tent. Doctors spoke of total exhaustion. Winner Maximilian Longrée collapsed immediately after finishing and was carried off to the field hospital on a stretcher. “I think these athletes pushed each other beyond the limit in their battle for victory,” said a race physician. “But they are well trained and can handle it. We let them recover quietly.”

HYROX suffering is something else entirely. It affect the entire body. Is more anaerobic. Inescapable. And continuous. If that’s not the case, you’re simply not going hard enough. From the start, you’re in the red zone. And I hate that. I much prefer staying below my anaerobic threshold for as long as possible — an unhelpful leftover from my triathlon and marathon background.

But that’s not how HYROX works.

“Right from the start, I go into the red zone as soon as possible,” says HYROX world champion Alexander Rončević. During HYROX Amsterdam 2026, I tried to pace the opening run and the ski erg. Futile. Dry mouth. Heart rate far too high. And right in front of my not-insignificant nose: the display showing my 500-metre split creeping upward. I kept grinding, desperate to get off that machine as quickly as possible. With an already uncontrolled breathing pattern, I started the next kilometre run, heading straight into pushing the 152-kilogram sled. That misery repeats itself station after station.

The most brutal part for me is the burpee broad jumps, where your heart rate shoots toward maximum — and you’re only halfway through. Dessert comes in the form of 100 wall balls, started under the accumulated fatigue of everything that came before. Your body wants to stop, but you force it into one final maximal effort. Arms burning. Stars in your vision. Every fibre screaming for rest. But rest costs time. HYROX demands that you accept the pain and keep pushing straight through the burn.

Dimension 2 — Mental suffering: dealing with discomfort

“A person suffers most from the suffering they fear.” That saying applies particularly well to the marathon and the Ironman. You know there will be a moment when it stops being pleasant. Writing this, I realise that I was often relieved when the pain finally arrived. Then I could focus on it — and the suffering I had been anticipating was at least over.

Mental state is crucial in marathons and Ironmans. It starts with how you label pain. In fact, I probably shouldn’t even use the word pain. Psychology teaches us that how we define something largely determines how we deal with it. Courtney Dauwalter — arguably the best female ultrarunner in the world — has spoken about how she used to fear the “pain cave”: that inevitable place deep into a race where everything hurts. She tried to avoid it. And once inside, she tried to survive. That didn’t help. Until she changed her mindset.

“It’s just a mindset, right? It’s all in our heads. In the past couple of years, it’s become the place I want to get to. Changing it into a place where I get to celebrate that I made it there — that’s where the work actually happens. Making the pain cave bigger instead of pushing it away. Changing the storyline makes it a whole different game.”

That lesson applies to all three disciplines — including HYROX. It all comes down to how you define suffering. My biggest takeaway from HYROX Amsterdam was my mindset. Subconsciously, I tried to conserve energy. To avoid discomfort. And by doing so, I felt it even more. I saw the contrast between myself and Erben Wennemars, who started twenty minutes after me. He attacked the workouts, ran as hard as he could, and went all-in from start to finish. I ran faster than he did, but he was far quicker on the stations. That difference is partly physical — but mostly mental.

The following Sunday, I did another HYROX: a doubles race with Wilmar van Bruggen. Because he runs slightly slower than I do, I could recover during the runs and decided to go full gas on every workout. It went far better than expected. A doubles race is not the same as a solo, but the lesson was clear: embracing the red zone works better than trying to avoid it.

HYROX demands constant sharpness. You’re always on the edge, counting laps, maintaining technique under extreme fatigue. A wall ball action photo illustrated this perfectly: I thought I was keeping the ball close to my body, chin on the ball, my eyes locked at the target. I wasn’t doing anything like that;) Pure fatigue.

In a marathon or Ironman, the early stages allow for mental relaxation. You monitor your metrics, take in nutrition, but you don’t need to be hyper-focused all the time. I try to stay out of the race for as long as possible — a tip I once picked up from Ingrid Kristiansen, the Norwegian marathon great of the 1980s and 1990s. It preserves mental energy for later.

Another difference is the series of small decisions you make during a long race. Do you go with that rider who passes you on the bike? How hard do you push the climbs early on? All those decisions add up and determine how strong you’ll be in the second half. And you continue making them under increasing fatigue. That requires different mental skills than HYROX, where relentless self-pushing and technical execution under duress are key.

Mistakes happen in every race. How you deal with them matters. In HYROX, you’re confronted with mistakes immediately. During the doubles race in Amsterdam, I accidentally placed my rope in the lane of the team next to us: a 15-second penalty. I said sorry, and that was it. You can’t undo it. And if you go too hard on one station, the next one punishes you instantly.

In a marathon or triathlon, the consequences of pacing or nutrition errors often appear much later. You have to anticipate whether you should — or shouldn’t — go with that group early on, make the call in the moment, and accept the consequences hours later.

Why HYROX hurts differently than a marathon or an Ironman

The core of this piece is not which race is the hardest, but which kind of pain you are willing to accept — and how you deal with it. HYROX demands that you embrace the red zone and accept immediate consequences. The marathon requires patience and the ability to live with the fact that suffering comes later. The Ironman forces humility: small mistakes are punished hours down the line.

Pain is not an enemy, but a source of information. Just as Philip Yancey describes: it tells you where your limits are and confronts you with a choice in how you respond. Those who learn to listen to that signal, who stop trying to avoid pain and instead place it in a constructive mental framework, don’t become tougher athletes — they become better ones.

And perhaps that is the true common ground between HYROX, the marathon, and the Ironman: not which race makes you suffer the most, but what each one teaches you about yourself along the way.