If you’re trying to get in shape, the first question you have to answer is also the most important: When should I work out? Let me answer it for you right now: You should hit the gym in the morning before work. Seriously. Take it from me. I tried everything else under the sun, and if you’re anything like me—socially-active, professionally-engaged, time-challenged—it’s the only way to fit a consistent workout routine into your already over-scheduled week.

I am not a morning person. Never have been. So I tried, many times, to find a program that would allow me to work out after leaving the office and before my evening social engagements. I joined New York Sports Club and would carefully lay plans to leave work at a decent hour, take the subway home, change clothes, jog to the gym, hit the treadmill and the free weights, walk back home, shower, get back on the subway, and then commence with the evening’s activities.

Wow, I mean, that sentence was exhausting to type, much less actually ecute. Can you imagine doing that three or four times a week? No fucking way.

So I tried a different tack. I booked sessions with Oscar "O-Diesel" Smith, a no-bullshit personal trainer (who is now our go-to guy for this fitness column). My logic was simple: If I couldn’t commit to myself, surely I could commit to him. Right? Wrong. My first attempt at developing a regular schedule with Oscar was a total bust. A GQ story would be overdue. A meeting would run long. An invitation to a restaurant I hadn’t tried would be too tempting. I’d text Oscar: "Sorry, gotta work late again." The guilt and hassle of setting up workouts and canceling them weighed on me. So I gave up. I got a little softer around the middle. A little more anxious. I became increasingly disconnected from my body and my notion of myself as a physical being. An athlete. An animal. A man.

Fast forward four years (and four thousand beers) to this spring, when I finally got on track. Here’s how it happened: Fed up with myself, I called Oscar and we made a plan. We’d work out three days a week (Monday, Wednesday, Friday whenever possible) at 8 a.m. I’d be lying if I said I was sure I could do it. Mornings are for hitting the snooze button, starting the day with my fiancée, or actually sitting still and reading for a while. Mornings are not for sweating and grunting. Or are they? What I found is that working out in the morning means no work conflicts. It means no social temptations. I drag my ass out of bed at 7:35, hustle over to Oscar’s gym, and, before I even wake up, I’m on the ercise bike working up a sweat. An hour later, when the old me would’ve just been getting out of the shower, looking in the mirror and lamenting the atrophy of what was once a decent physique on a decent athlete, the new me is practically skipping home from Oscar’s studio with ercise endorphins banging around my brain.

Okay, okay, I realize a lot of people have much earlier call times at the office than I do. A lot of people have bigger financial priorities than a trainer. I also realize that some people actually leave work at 5 p.m., and can drive to a nearby gym and knockout an hour regimen without a hassle. So maybe I’m not speaking to everyone here. But if you can’t find a rhythm at the gym because of your work schedule, or your social schedule, or because when it comes time to choose between the gym and the bar or the gym and the television or the gym and your kids, the gym always loses, I’m talking to you. And what I’m saying is just give up on the whole after-work thing. Instead, get up an hour and fifteen minutes earlier (even if that means getting up at 5:30 a.m.) and jump on an ercise bike before your brain can ask any questions. Get in the gym before your will power has a chance to let you down. Work out in the morning. I don’t know much, but I know it’s the only thing that works for me.

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