THE 5AM CLUB AND OTHER MINOR ILLNESSES
There's a bloke on the internet who wakes up at 5am.
By 5:03 he's journalled his intentions. By 5:07 he's completed a gratitude ritual. By 5:12 he's in a plunge bath that looks bloody freezing. By 5:20 he's checked his stocks and shares. By 5:30 he's invested in his portfolio. By 5:45 he's "won the morning."
By 7am he's apparently turned into the Wolf of Wall Street.
I watched this for three weeks. Then I thought: fuck it, why not?
I set my alarm for 5am. It went off. I questioned every life decision that had led me to this moment. But I got up anyway.
Day One
The house was dark. Properly dark. The kind of dark where you're not entirely sure you're awake.
I made coffee. Sat down with my journal. Stared at the blank page.
What exactly does one journal at 5:07am?
"I am awake and I regret it" seemed the honest thing to write. "Today I will be intentional and focused" felt a bit… false.
I wrote: "Coffee good. Everything else TBD."
By 5:12 I was supposed to be in the plunge bath. A nice little £99.99 number from Amazon. Apparently it boosts mood, energy, reduces anxiety, sharpens focus, speeds muscle recovery, improves sleep — sounds like a f***ing miracle worker.
I'd filled it the night before. Proper cold. Ice and everything.
I got in. I lasted twelve seconds. Well, I wasn't counting, so it might've been ten.
Not twelve serene, enlightened seconds. Twelve British seconds of "why would anyone voluntarily live like this."
I got out. Stood there dripping and furious. My dog barked at me like I was a bloody maniac. Or possibly she was laughing.
The internet says it sharpens the mind. All it sharpened was my awareness that I'd made a terrible mistake.
Day Four
By day four I wasn't sharpened. I was knackered. Properly, deeply, bone-tired.
Turns out when you're 52 and you shave 90 minutes off your sleep because some influencer swears it'll change your life… it's naive, frankly.
I had emails to finish at 10:30pm. I was watching something mildly violent on Netflix at 11. I was lying awake at 11:47 thinking about whether I'd locked the back door.
Then the alarm went off at 5am. And I hated everything.
Day Six
Day six I woke up with a throat like sandpaper. Not "I'm optimised now" sandpaper — "I'm getting flu" sandpaper.
I gave up on the ice bath and the journalling. I now had a mild case of the flu. My morning was taken up finding the only 24-hour Tesco that was open. Even they aren't plugged into the 5am rule.
Bought Lemsip. Went home. Stayed in bed. Had my first sick day in seven years.
Made coffee around 10am. Watched something mindless on Netflix. No heroics. No hypothermia. No optimisation. Just flu.
A couple of weeks later, I'm back to normal. No ice. No rituals. No flu.
I still see the 5am bloke on the internet. He's still winning mornings. Good for him.
I'm winning 6:30am. Which is less cinematic. But also less cold.
Share