So, here I am. 7:20 on the final day of a streak of 5am wake-ups. This morning I procrastinated, pretending to work and looking at Airbnbs, dreaming of the day that I can move more than 5 meters from my front door without punishing and overwhelming guilt.
Let’s Rewind
I started this thing, well, 30 days ago. I can’t remember the exact date—my brain feels like the apricot jam I put on my crumpets of a morning. That is, if I soaked them in coffee and regret from drinking too much the night before.
Anyway.
30 days ago. Thems were the days. The days when I had brown hair, we were in Stage 4 lockdown, and the world was on hold. Not much has changed, really. My dog has learned to shake hands, my hair is a bizarre shade of orangey blonde, and the lockdown punishes on. Ceaselessly.
30 days ago, my dreams consisted of saving enough money for a house, maybe moving out of the city, a new car, and becoming financially free to do whatever the hell I want. Now, I’m not sure if I dream at all.
Nah, just kidding.
While it’s true that those things are now seemingly too far out of reach due to the financial pinch we’re all feeling, these 30 days of waking up before the crack of dawn have given me time to pause and reflect on what’s truly important.
This is the sole benefit I’ve discovered in undertaking this experiment: time. The time afforded to me has given me the opportunity to do the things that are important to me first, before getting stuck into the day.
My Routine
5:00–5:30 AM: Wake-Up
Anything later than 5:30 was deemed a failure. I’d pour a strong coffee and grab my pocket Moleskin to write out the following:
Date:
Wake-up Time:
What good will I do today?
- Thing 1
- Thing 2
- Etc.
These aren’t to-do lists. The goal was to focus on intrinsic actions that would improve my life as a whole. For example: “spend time playing with Connie” (Connie is my Dachshund, and she’s the best).
6:00–8:00 AM: Writing
At the beginning of this 30-day challenge, I was roughly 30,000 words into a novel I’d been writing in my spare time. But due to my 8:25 wake-ups and subsequent video work, I hardly had time for writing.
Weekends? They were worse—overwhelmed by the mountain of unwritten words, I’d avoid it altogether. Cue the guilt spiral.
Now, I had all the time in the world. My goal was 500 words in the two hours before Kirrily, my wife, woke up. Often, I crushed that target, sometimes hitting 2,500 words. On other days, like after a heavy drinking session watching the Sydney Roosters, I wrote much less.
8:00–8:30 AM: Family Time
Kirrily would walk down the stairs holding Connie, and we’d share a moment of play and family hugs. Then, breakfast: a cup of tea, crumpets with apricot jam, and an episode of Good Mythical Morning.
8:30 AM–5:30 PM: Work Grind
Emails, editing, rendering—rinse and repeat.
5:30–7:00 PM: Disconnect
At 5:30, I’d shut everything down: work computer, social media, and email. In this COVID era, the line between work and home life has blurred. I made a conscious effort to restore it.
Some evenings, I’d take Connie to the park or have a beer in the bath with a book. Other times, I’d punish myself with a 5K run.
7:00–9:00 PM: Dinner and Relaxation
Dinner, TV, or footy. We began this 30-day period finishing Friends and ended it starting How I Met Your Mother.
9:00–10:00 PM: Reading
This was fiction hour. I’ve been devouring The Witcher series. First the show, then the game, now the books—I’m hooked.
Reflections
This experiment was a success. In 30 days, I:
- Finished my novel, The Academy (coming soon-ish).
- Implemented a second-brain strategy, prompting me to create this website.
- Read more than I have in years.
- Started planning a YouTube channel I’ve dreamed of since the 2019 NRL Grand Final.
Final Word
Just do it.
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