Morning Routines, Banana Facials, and Saratoga Water: A Necessary FAQ
A video about one man’s six-hour a.m. regimen for success has broken contain on the internet. We’re sure you have some questions.
Deep in the throes of watching college basketball this past weekend, as the weather outside finally shifted toward spring, something somehow more pressing revealed itself on the timeline. It was a man. A large man, a jacked man, yes, but still—just a man. This man was diving into pools, sprinting on treadmills, rubbing his hands together like a praying mantis in anticipation of removing his medically unfounded mouth tape in a transcendently lit bathroom. This man was never not plunging his handsome face into a bowl of icy Saratoga Spring Water. He was—he is—Ashton Hall, though the internet wasn’t even obsessively watching his now-viral “get ready with me” morning routine on his own social media pages. Because in the wee hours of last Thursday morning, an X account called “Tips For Men - Fashion | Essentials | Luxury” randomly tweeted out a video of Hall’s time-stamped morning routine from February 7, and by the weekend, our favorite sports teams and sportscasters, our most trusted dictionaries and sanitation departments, our greatest National Historic Landmarks, and absolutely every person you know online were locking in to roast the hell out of this guy and the influencer-industrial complex that made him.
The luxurious and essential tips for men in question, as exemplified by Hall, a protein powder entrepreneur and “online fitness coach” for other aspiring online fitness coaches? You should wake up at the ass crack of dawn, rub a banana peel on your face, do the Nicki Minaj “Anaconda” squat on a balcony while drinking Saratoga Spring Water, brush your teeth using Saratoga Spring Water, plunge your face into icy Saratoga Spring Water, do that one more time, hit the Mr. Burns hands in front of a laptop for a while, ignore the labor of women that affords you the time for this allegedly six-hour morning routine, drizzle so much hot honey on your scrambled eggs, get 11 million followers across all social media platforms, sell this lifestyle to other aspiring online fitness coaches, and lather, rinse, repeat.
The X repost of Hall’s morning routine video has amassed 700 million views and counting, and Hall’s original post of the morning routine has reached 150 million views across his social media platforms. Doing some simple math—though, simple math cannot account for how diving into a pool takes four full minutes—that’s close to a billion views, and while I anecdotally know that doesn’t mean that one-eighth of the world’s population has watched this video, it does kind of feel like everyone on the planet has now seen Ashton Hall taking, at least according to time stamps, four whole minutes to jump into a pool.
Perhaps the strangest thing about Hall’s video suddenly going mega-viral is that hypermasculine health influencer culture is pretty standard online behavior these days. Hall is a test tube baby straight out of the Huberman Lab—and I know daddy must be proud! Just 10 or 15 years ago, plunging your face into fruit salad and wearing a $5,000 Van Cleef bracelet while eating avocado toast would have been far from an alpha-male persona so aspirational that you could charge money to help others replicate it. But now, passing off random stabs at self-care as health maxxing and life hacking in order to suggest that you alone have unlocked the secret to productivity and success is a perfectly aspirational career trajectory. One of the main ones, actually.
However, if my calculations are correct, we may have finally reached the ceiling on this stuff. Because dunking one’s face into a Pyrex full of ice water while sitting in front of a giant computer monitor and wearing a skintight suit is the most ridiculous possible way one could signal their extra-special brand of wealth and productivity. Hall calls this repeated practice “face to ice,” and for that reason, I can’t help but be obsessed with him, but I must also acknowledge that he’s absolutely full of shit. Of the thousands of parody videos that have spawned from Hall’s morning routine, not a single one has done anything as funny as running a banana peel over their face or displaying business acumen by saying, “So looking at it, bro, we gotta go ahead and get in at least 10,000.” Which is to say nothing of all the other wild things this legion of guys tweets, posts, and films to suggest that you too can become a hypermasculine “serial entrepreneur” or “ripped airline pilot.” (Don’t worry about the pilot’s license; that’s not important!)
Yes, waking up early and stepping outside for a few minutes might be good for your circadian rhythm, and eating exclusively chicken, rice, and broccoli will get you most of the nutrients you need—but these things also won’t actually cure clinical depression, if that happens to be the thing keeping you from growing your online business, y’know? These guys can’t prescribe you Lexapro or walk you through a therapy session, but they can run as fast as a car sometimes, and at some point, those two things got a little bit conflated. For this reason and more, we have to get to the bottom of what’s going on in Ashton Hall’s morning routine and why it got memed into internet history. Let’s ask these questions, let’s have this conversation, because I’ll be frank: We gotta get at least 10,000 with this one.
Is this Ashton’s normal morning routine?
In the caption for his original video, Ashton said that he was on “Day 191 of the morning routine that changed my life.” Over the course of an 85-second video, he documents the time between 3:50-9:30 a.m., telling us in the caption, “Sin lives at night.. 4:00am - 8:00am no one’s calling or distracting your productivity.. they are sleep.” Wise words—this definitely sounds like something that someone who’s scrolling on Instagram for productivity tips would believe. Unfortunately, I have to call bullshit. Prior to this viral post, Ashton had posted plenty of morning routine videos, but only two had time stamps. And in the other time-stamped videos, which definitely happened within 191 days of this one, he started his mornings at 7:38 a.m. and 8 a.m.—dangerously close to the sinful hours when other people are awake and want to disrupt your gains. I don’t know when Ashton started to up the ante, but I know that for at least two of those 4-7 a.m. windows across 191 days, he was ’sleep.
What is he actually doing for six hours?
Six hours is a really long time to be awake before you start working at your job (y’know, if your job isn’t, in part, making videos of your morning routine). And I’ll be frank: Ashton isn’t doing enough in this video to fill all that time. Here is a full accounting of his morning, as it’s presented to us:
3:52-3:56 a.m.: Peel off mouth tape, brush teeth, swish with Saratoga Spring Water
4-4:21 a.m.: Balcony time—stare into distance, do furious round of push-ups, stand very still
4:38-4:40 a.m.: Sit with eyes closed in front of a closed book
4:40-4:42 a.m.: Write in a journal opened to the very first page
4:55-5:30 a.m.: Watch religious videos, drink Saratoga Spring Water
5:46-5:49 a.m.: Plunge face in bowl of iced Saratoga Spring Water
6:01-6:03 a.m.: Get dressed for gym
6:07-6:07 a.m.: Put on jewelry for gym
6:17-6:20 a.m.: Leave home for gym
6:23-7:30 a.m.: Run very fast on treadmill
7:36-7:40 a.m.: Jump in pool
7:52-8:07 a.m.: Hot tub time
8:21-8:35 a.m.: Arrive home, shower
8:43-8:45 a.m.: Eat banana, rub banana peel on face
9:05-9:09 a.m.: Saratoga Spring Water face ice bath in front of computer monitor
9:15-9:15 a.m.: Tell someone that, looking at it, we gotta go ahead and get in at least 10,000
9:25-9:26 a.m.: Breakfast served by faceless woman, start day
What is the most relatable part of Ashton’s morning routine?
Journaling for two minutes, followed by looking at TikTok for 35 minutes.
What’s the most unrelatable part?
Probably that thing where he suspends time and space to jump into a pool. The four minutes he spends in the air is more time than he spent brushing his teeth, meditating, writing in his journal, sitting with his eyes closed in front of a book, or doing his banana-based skin care.
What is Ashton journaling for exactly two minutes?
OK, so then what’s happening in all of those unaccounted minutes??
Oh, he’s moving his tripod around. Mostly, he’s just … moving that tripod around. There is a lot of unglamorous shit going on here—the monotonous, soul-crushing labor of handling a tripod, the tedium of editing dozens upon dozens of video clips, often from a cellphone, often while in public—and if Ashton Hall showed any of it, he wouldn’t have millions of followers. And the followers he did have might be far less inclined to pay him money to tell them the secret to success. In the end, the thing you really need in order to win at life and become an online fitness coach is a shameless commitment to moving a tripod around a public pool. You don’t even have to pay my mentorship fee to hear that—that tidbit of content creator wisdom is on the house.
What’s not happening during this six-hour stretch?
The first time an unnamed, mostly unseen woman’s phantom hands appear on the screen is to put an icy bowl of water in front of Ashton’s monitor. The second time is as she prepares breakfast and serves it to him while he’s asserting that we gotta go ahead and get in at least 10,000. And the final time is as she places a label-out Saratoga Spring Water on the desk moments before the video ends, to which he offers a no-eye-contact “thank you.”
I’m sorry, it took him six hours to prepare for the day, and he’s not even making breakfast? Can’t even muster up a smile to say thank you when he hasn’t so much as TURNED ON A SINK all morning? Now, I might not be so stuck on this if it weren’t for the fact that, in other videos, when his male bodyguard hands him a Saratoga Spring Water or packs heat to escort him into a photo shoot, he’s an entire character who receives several fist bumps and the occasional “’Preciate ya, bro.” It is very funny to know that this is somehow the assistant-to–Miranda Priestly job that thousands of girls (hopeful online male fitness coaches) would kill for (I guess literally in this instance, where there’s a gun). But I don’t understand why the woman assistant doesn’t get the same recognition! (Oh, wait, I thought about it for two seconds, and now I understand.)
Are there actual health benefits to this morning routine?
The most beneficial things Ashton Hall does for his health in his video are brush his teeth, drink water, eat breakfast, and exercise. You know—the things Elmo teaches you to do in a picture book when you’re 3 years old. (We don’t see him use the potty, but I’m sure he did that successfully as well.) As for the more unique attempts at health, ice baths are an old-school approach to decreasing cortisol and reducing inflammation that could give you a nice little wake-up in the morning. The minerals in spring water could be good for you, as could lifting the dozens of cases required to keep up an obviously rampant Saratoga habit. But I draw the line at banana peel facial. Bananas don’t even have acid for exfoliation! And, finally, it must be said: If you’re having to sleep with a titanium Breathe Right strip and mouth tape … babe, I’m so sorry, but it might be time for a CPAP. You cannot life-hack, TikTok-shop, or AG1-sponsorship your way through heart health.
Are there any financial benefits to this morning routine?
“8:45 a.m.: Rub a banana peel on my face” is the morning routine of a Super Mario Bros. character—and yet gold coins don’t ever magically appear in front of Ashton. Given that we watch him jump into a chlorinated pool wearing a Rolex Datejust, the suggestion would be, yes, he’s made so much money as an online fitness coach that he can replace these already expensive trinkets if he needs to. But nothing about waking up at 4 a.m. will automatically set you up for success. No, that’s what the reminder to “DM ‘BRAND’ if you’re looking to scale your online coaching business and build your social media” at the end of every single one of these day-in-the-life videos is for …
OK, so what is actually going on with all the Saratoga Spring Water?
Listen, that water is crisp. It tastes fancy. The bottle is a dark blue. But there’s no reason to be brushing your teeth with it. Unless, of course, you’re either sponsored by the water or trying desperately to signal wealth for clicks.
However, neither The Ringer nor any other outlet has (yet!) been able to confirm that Ashton’s many, many posts featuring the iconic Saratoga bottle are sponsored directly by the brand, and Ashton definitely hasn’t disclosed any sponsored or endorsed content within his videos, as is legally required by the Federal Trade Commission …
But one way or another, Saratoga better be running Ashton that check, because his online flogging has been their material gain. This morning routine going viral has generated an estimated $1.8M in earned media value for Saratoga water, and shares of their parent company, Primo Brands, have risen about 2 percent. I mean, the guy is actively dogging Mountain Valley on TikTok to the tune of 5 million views—if Saratoga doesn’t pony up with more than a “trendsetter” credit on Instagram (or if we don’t find out this was an Aperol-spritz-level marketing campaign to begin with), their greatest advocate might just jump ship and start doing full-body Acqua Panna baths.
What is Ashton up to during the day?
Let’s be very clear: Filming, editing, and posting these morning routine videos is Ashton’s job. He exists somewhere between being an actual physical trainer (something he seems to have done for about a year before he became an online fitness coach to other aspiring online fitness coaches) and a clip farmer, someone who intentionally exaggerates in their videos to gain attention. And he’s very good at it. How else do you explain that he’s grown his Instagram following from around 1 million to 8 million in under a year? (You can track his follower growth because he celebrates each million milestone with a Mylar balloon photo shoot—except for the most recent million, which he celebrated by running so hard his AirPods fell straight out of his ears.)
So what are his non-GRWM videos about?
He mostly seems to be training for a catastrophic event of some kind that only he knows about, one that requires him to be able to run very fast in a very small vest. Occasionally he posts himself speaking into a microphone like he’s recording a podcast, though he never directs followers to any such podcast. If he did, rest assured he would mostly be telling people that the only way to succeed is to cut out all the noise (excluding his noise!) and build their personal brands (they should look like his!).
Is opening up a notebook to the first page to journal for exactly two minutes as part of his 192-days-and-counting morning routine the funniest thing Ashton Hall does in his clip-farming videos?
No, that would be eating a giant wedge of watermelon passed to him by his bodyguard the moment he completes any sporting activity.
’Preciate ya, bro.
Answering this question is incredibly difficult, though, because Ashton also does these fake-out videos that I’m genuinely obsessed with where he lists off “things that may be keeping you broke”—side chicks, taking advice from losers, Netflix, broke friends, no strategy—and just interchangeably uses clips of himself looking hot to represent each one. There’s one clip of him being served a meal while pouting that’s supposed to signify having a “non-supportive spouse.”
OK, but is rubbing a banana peel on his face the nastiest thing he does in a clip-farming video?
No, that would be putting his bare feet directly into patent leather boots and heading out for a full day of being presented with steaks inside boxes at nightclubs.
Boneless Chelsea boots is crazy, man.
If all of this is so silly, how did it get so popular? What will be the lasting impact of the internet LOCKING IN to this morning routine video?
Ultimately, the fact that the entire internet—I mean, my mom saw these memes—watched a random online fitness coach go viral has hopefully highlighted the absurdity, and often falsity, of an entire influencer economy that swaps the part for the whole. If you just drink this expensive water that I drink, you can make the money it takes to buy it. If you just use this one serum I use, you can have the clear skin I get from it—never mind my team of estheticians and the genetic lottery I won. If you run really fast behind enough cars and eat enough steak lunches and block out enough noise, then you TOO can make millions telling people that they’ve just gotta pull themselves up by their Chelsea boots, get that bag, rise and grind, and LOCK IN.
Maybe—just maybe—when an impressionable young person sees someone rich wake up at 4 a.m. now, and begins to view that as the solution to all their problems, they will recall that, literally or metaphorically, that same person with purportedly all the answers might also just be randomly rubbing banana peels on their face. And maybe that will be enough to just … try being a trainer before they try being an online fitness coach who coaches other online fitness coaches on how to coach other online fitness coaches to become millionaires.
That all sounds good, but one last thing: What does “Looking at it bro, we gotta go ahead and get in at least 10,000” mean?
The most logical answer is that Ashton is telling a client they need to get their follower count up to at least 10,000 …
But—and I cannot back this up with science—I legitimately believe that he is ordering more Saratoga Spring Water.
