there's no app to learn and no dashboard to check. bellum lives in your messages, and you use it by saying things. here's what to say.
how did i sleep?
short and scrappy. you were up past one and it cost you most of your deep sleep. go easy on yourself today; daylight before noon will do more than the second coffee.
sleep, recovery, strain, training. ask in plain words, get plain words back, drawn from your own data. numbers only when you ask for them.
tuesday · 7:14 am
your recovery has been sliding since saturday, and last night didn't turn it around. swap today's intervals for an easy spin and get to bed before eleven. deal?
most mornings bellum reads your night and texts first, shortly after you wake. one flag, one move, never a report card.
i've been feeling better lately, does my data agree?
confirmed. your hrv has spent the month climbing out of your usual range.
when the shape of a trend says more than a sentence could, bellum draws it and sends it, in its own hand.
my sleep's been rubbish all week and i can't work out why
found it. pollen has spiked every night since tuesday, and your worst nights match those spikes exactly. keep the bedroom window shut tonight and let's see if friday reads different.
when something feels off, bellum goes digging through sleep, training, weather, and air until the story holds up. allergies, heatwaves, a brutal week at work: the culprit usually leaves fingerprints.
why have i been feeling so flat these past few weeks?
three things moved together this month: bedtimes drifting later, bigger tuesday sessions, and the heat. the heat carries most of the blame, and it breaks this weekend, so expect to feel it lift.
questions that take weeks of data and every source at once. bellum reads across all of them and comes back with the story, not a spreadsheet.
build me a plan for the half in october
that deserves better than texts. it'll be in your inbox in a few minutes, built around the knee and your tuesday club runs.
anything long-form arrives as a proper document in your inbox, minutes later: a training plan, a deep dive into a month of data.
text me thursday at five to stretch before the gym
done. thursday, five o'clock.
one-off texts at the moment you name: before a race, a session, a bedtime. change your mind and it's cancelled just as easily.
for the record: knee surgery, march last year
remembered. that shapes how i read every run from here.
injuries, the race on the calendar, what to call you. said once, carried into every conversation after, long after the thread scrolls away.
coach-plan-october.pdf
read it. week three stacks the hard sessions right where your recovery usually dips. i'd move the tempo run to wednesday.
a coach's plan, a lab report, a photo of the hotel gym. text it a pdf or a picture and it reads them against your data.
when should i run tomorrow?
early. it's 33° by noon and the air turns rough after, so be done by nine and it's lovely out there.
heat, air quality, uv, rain, all weighed against your plans before you're out the door.
and when typing is too slow, call. the number in your contact card, any hour. same bellum, out loud. it will never, ever call you first.
some things are easier said than typed. calls work like the texts do: it knows your data, it remembers the conversation.
off the grid for two weeks
enjoy. i'll stay quiet until the 29th, then pick our mornings back up.
most mornings, weekly, only when something stands out, or never first. say the word and the rhythm changes. pauses lift themselves.
reads from oura · whoop · fitbit / pixel watch · jeani
the rest, you'll find by texting it.
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