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Logan Ullrich
Rowing NZ athlete | 2024 Paris Olympic Silver Medallist
On 16 February 2026, Logan Ullrich erged 1000 metres in 2:38.1 — a world record.
It has since been broken. That's how it goes when athletes start raising the ceiling.
We called Logan to talk about the performance behind the number, to unpack the process - not just the splits. Not just the moment. But the thinking, preparation and mindset that built toward it.
FROM SOMETHING TO SURVIVE, TO WORLD RECORD
Logan remembers his first 1K test. He was 14 years old, sitting outside a boat shed before a rowing camp, waiting his turn.
"It felt like lining up for death row."
He counted down the erg tests remaining in each season. Measured time not by improvement, but by how few were left. For years, the erg wasn't a tool — it was something to survive.
Thirteen years later, he set the world record on the same machine.
"It's just a vessel now — a way to push my limits and see how far I can go."
That shift is the whole story. The machine didn't change. His relationship with discomfort did.
It didn't happen because he became less afraid. It happened because he kept showing up until the fear became familiar — and familiar became useful.
THE SETUP
Logan last completed a standalone 1K test at 18, when he chased the 17–18 age group world record and fell a few seconds short. Then six years passed without another attempt.
The window this time came through circumstance. A 500-metre piece, two weeks out, gave him and his coach enough of a signal. Surgery was already scheduled for the day after. So they put the 1K on the calendar.
"The theory said I could be in that range. The only thing left was to test it."
Setting the intention changed the two weeks that followed. Training sharpened. Sessions had direction. What might have been a difficult period in the lead-up to recovery became, instead, a final push toward something.
"I was pushing all the way up until I couldn't."
WHAT ACTUALLY BUILT THE RESULT
The training block wasn't what most people would picture. Less volume, not more. But heavier strength work — particularly upper body — and short, maximal sprint efforts on the erg. A specific answer to what a 1K actually demands.
"The combination of strength and short max sprint work was the biggest difference in my training — more than anything I'd done before."
He spoke about those gains as something that doesn't disappear after one test. Muscle memory. New thresholds. A physical reference point to come back to. The body remembers work done honestly.
The final 24 hours were quiet and deliberate. He kept his routine intact — hydration, sleep, food, same wake time, a shorter row in the morning to get the body moving. Nothing dramatic.
He held off on letting himself fully focus until the final 90 minutes. Then he ran the plan. Visualised the push points. Let the nerves arrive.
"If I don't want to feel them yet, I shift my focus to something else — give my attention somewhere else until I'm ready."
The nerves weren't a problem to solve. They were a signal he'd learned to time.
300 METRES
In a 1K, 300 metres remaining is a particular kind of hard. You've done enough to feel it everywhere, but the finish isn't close enough to pull you.
“The body just makes whatever power you’re holding feel harder than it is.”
The self-doubt comes here. Even now, at this level. Logan is direct about that.
"There's always that self-doubt at that point — I'm like, I don't think I'm going to do it."
Experience hasn't removed it. It's made it recognisable. That's a different thing — and it matters.
His response is to follow the plan: commit to a push. It might yield speed. It might just hold pace. Either way, it replaces hesitation with action. He also says something out loud — a short, audible cue that cuts through the internal noise and puts him back in the moment.
In the final 150 metres, it shifts again. The body stiffens. Every stroke feels maximal. The screen becomes the only reference point.
"Just keep going until it says zero."
WHAT A LIMIT ACTUALLY IS
Three years ago, Logan believed the 1K world record wasn't his event. That belief sat in the background as a quiet ceiling.
"I thought it wasn't for me. All these limiting beliefs."
He no longer thinks about limits that way.
"I'm limited now not by any physical boundaries — but by the work I'm willing to do."
That's the reframe. It moves the question from “can I?” to “am I willing to do what it takes?” And if the answer is yes — if you can break down the work, understand the why, and commit to doing it — the ceiling lifts.
"That gives you a limitless opportunity if you're willing to do the work."
WHAT HE'D SAY TO HIS 14-YEAR-OLD SELF
"Your best effort is all you can ever do — and it's more than enough."
He'd add: learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable. The most fulfilling moments tend to sit on the other side of difficulty. But he's honest about the limits of advice.
"Most of those learnings can only come through doing."
You can't shortcut the years. You can only keep showing up, keep taking the uncomfortable thing seriously, and trust that the accumulation of effort becomes something.
That's what Logan's world record is evidence of. Not a single great day — but thirteen years of small decisions to stay in the room.
ON THE LINE
A 776BC series — conversations with athletes about the work behind the performance. We jump on the phone with elite athletes across the globe, learn from their experience, and pass those lessons on. Because the pursuit of performance is longer than any single result, and the best insights are earned, not invented.
Thank you, Logan, for jumping ON THE LINE.
Read more at 776bc.com.au/blogs/journal
