On any given morning, Anna Wintour can be found reading the news at 4am while I’m entering my fourth REM stage. Jennifer Aniston whips up her collagen latte post-meditation, while I’m lost in a dream involving someone I went to primary school with and an underwater city filled with talking dolphins. By the time the sun considers making an appearance, Michelle Obama has accomplished more than I will by lunchtime.
The cult of the 5am wake-up call is having a moment. From business tycoons to wellness influencers, the internet is saturated with stories of those who attribute their success to greeting the dawn. But as someone who loves to sleep, have I been foolish in hoping that early starts aren’t really the secret sauce to success?
Let’s unpack.
I wouldn’t say I’m a natural-born morning person. I have by sheer force trained myself to wake up early (by Amsterdam standards), around 7:30-8am, for the gym or a podcast walk. Once I’m up early, I love it, but generally I’d trade most things in my life for an extra 20 minutes of sleep. The idea of leaving the safe sanctuary of my bed before the sun rises feels blasphemous. When I first heard about Robin Sharma’s book, The 5am Club, I physically recoiled. Surely, there must be another way.
Jet lagged me is more amenable to the idea of ungodly waking hours. I’m probably in the minority, but I love everything about the time zone dysphoria — the forced early nights and subsequent pre-dawn wake-ups, where I’ll get out of bed, make a coffee, and then retreat under my duvet to read for four uninterrupted hours while the rest of the world sleeps. It’s like revenge bedtime procrastination turned on its head. Instead of sacrificing sleep for personal time in the evening, I revel in this precious jet lagged gift: extra ‘me time’ in the morning that isn’t cannibalised by emails or DMs.
In these moments, I get it, even if my jet lagged hurkle-durkle (an impeccable Scottish term for rising just to languish in bed) isn’t quite what productivity gurus had in mind. Most people use early mornings to journal, meditate, vigorously exercise, or plot their climb up the capitalist ladder. I used it to devour books like Ruth Reichl’s Garlic and Sapphires. I figure this is okay because I’m not the founder of a tech startup, and there are worse things I could be doing than reading fiction. But I digress.
The myth of the early bird is kept alive by tales from the Annas and Michelles of the world, convincing us that early rising equals success. But this one-size-fits-all approach to productivity overlooks a critical fact: we are not all the same. Some of us thrive in the morning, others in the evening. Forcing ourselves into a rhythm that doesn’t suit us can lead to sleep deprivation and reduced productivity — the very things we’re trying to avoid. A 2018 study in Nature Communications even suggests that night owls who live like early birds might face increased health risks. It’s not just about feeling groggy; it’s about living in sync with what’s healthiest for you.
My first encounter with the pre-dawn concept came from a friend who introduced me to Dinacharya, an Ayurvedic routine that favours waking before 6am. According to Ayurveda, the final phase of our 24-hour body clock, from 2am to 6am, is Vata time, associated with movement and creativity. This is when your mind is most alert and clear — perfect for mental and spiritual activities. Contrast this with the 6am to 10am window — Kapha time — when energy is heavy and slow. Rising before Kapha helps dodge that groggy feeling, no matter how well you slept.
Jet lag aside, I usually only rise pre-dawn for flights, the rare early gym class, or most commonly, tight deadlines. Whenever I’ve woken around 5am to work, the serenity is unmatched, and the productivity is immense. Procrastination feels foolish when you’re the only person awake. Why not sleep if I’m just going to go deep on the sexy rodent trend or scroll through The RealReal?
My brain is at its sharpest in the morning, but that clarity is often wasted in the gym. By the time 2pm rolls around, my creative faculties shut down, only to awaken again in the evening, sacred time spent in the kitchen or seeing friends. Afternoons are a wasteland of procrastination and faltering self-discipline. This is precisely why I decided to dabble in the 5am-ish Club despite the onslaught of early morning protests from my brain, tweaking the rules to chart a more feasible path toward becoming the morning person Robin Sharma envisions I could be.