One way you can tell another election season is approaching is to check out Gore's waistline. That's because he tries to get into shape before each new campaign gets under way. This year, for example, he's already dropped about 15 pounds; his arms are veiny from weight lifting, his face is chiseled where it was previously puffy, and he looks to be in better shape than many of his Secret Service guys.

Gore approaches fitness the way he approaches everything -- with pious studiousness and methodical dedication.

He was the same way back in the early 1970s, when he was a reporter for the Nashville Tennessean. "Journalism school [professors] and city editors, the advice they always give you is before you ever go on assignment, go to the library and look up the clips," says Frank Sutherland, who worked with Gore at the Tennessean and is its current editor. "He is the only reporter I knew who always did that. He was always prepared for an interview; he never went into an interview cold."

Despite reports of infighting at Gore 2000 headquarters, the vice president's campaign actually seems to be running smoothly. It's the hard-born result of typical Gore diligence, dedication and homework -- plus, of course, the cushy benefits that come from being an incumbent.

In both New Hampshire and Iowa, the veep has been endorsed by an overwhelming majority of state officials. And though both states' Democratic governors aren't taking sides in the Gore-Bradley match-up, their spouses -- Bill Shaheen, hubby to New Hampshire Gov. Jeanne Shaheen, and Iowa first lady Christie Vilsack -- are full-fledged members of the Gore 2000 squad. Bradley made a strong drive to get the endorsements of Iowa's two big labor unions, AFSCME and the UAW, but Gore snatched them both.

Gore's also ahead in the polls. Among New Hampshire Democrats, Gore leads Bradley 48 percent to 32 percent. In the most recent poll of likely caucus voters in Iowa, Gore's up 64 percent to 24 percent.

Besides being a dedicated worker, Gore has earned a reputation as someone always out a little bit ahead of the pack on the issues.

"The guy genuinely does look seriously around the corner and into the future on a lot of issues a lot people don't pay attention to," says Newsweek's Turque. "In the early 1980s he was studying climate change and early global warming when that was not on people's screens.

"In the early '80s, he was also very interested in changes in computer infrastructure, in what he called the information superhighway," Turque adds. "He would talk in congressional hearings about the day when everyone would have PCs in their homes. At his best, there's almost a prophetic edge to the guy."

One reason Gore's always ahead of the curve is that he reads so much. The names he drops are not those of celebrities, but of authors.

Even though he failed to complete two separate graduate programs -- law school and divinity school -- Gore is every bit a scholar, which is why he comes off so very teacherly, rattling off figures and numbers and studies all the time.

"If he has a fault, it's that he will explain something to death for you," editor Sutherland says. But then again, in the early '90s the then-senator came to the Tennessean to teach them all about global warming. The lesson lasted an arduous hour and a half, Sutherland says, but "when he was finished, we all understood what he was talking about."

His scholarly edge manifests itself elsewhere in his life too. As first disclosed by biographer Zelnick, after having three daughters, Gore devoted himself to Dr. Landrum B. Shettles' "How to Choose the Sex of Your Baby," a serious text that recommends that, to procreate a son, the prospective father wear boxers, drink coffee immediately before sex, and attempt impregnation during the high-alkaline moment of ovulation.

In October 1982, Albert Gore III was born.

When Albert III was injured in a severe car accident in April 1989, Gore withdrew from politics somewhat, and boned up not only on his son's injuries (he has since recovered) but also on environmental issues, for what would become his bestselling enviro-tract, "Earth in the Balance."

But Gore's clean-as-a-whistle reputation took a hit when he teamed up with Clinton. As one of Clinton's most valuable assets on the '92 campaign trail, as well as at the policy-making table, Gore was an able, on-message Tonto to Clinton's Kemosabe. But when Gore's work ethic and unquestioning Democratic partisan loyalty were channeled into the Clinton-Gore-DNC fund-raising apparatus, suddenly the diligence of the heir apparent got him into trouble.

His April 1996 fund-raising at the Hsi Lai Buddhist temple was especially crass, and his wormy attempt to extricate himself from the media fallout was clumsy. At the very least, he skated around the edge of the law, and afterward, Gore had only himself to blame for the fallout from this incident.

When Bradley hammers Gore on campaign finance reform, as he has done especially hard in the past few weeks, he's therefore pushing on a vulnerable and largely self-inflicted wound.

Gore knows he is in a dirty business. He's aware that politics is soaked with compromises and necessary evils, and he seems to have come to terms with that a long time ago. At a New Hampshire house party last week, in response to a young man who had inquired about the rewards of public service, Gore said, "It is self-government. People in it are just ... trying to do the best we can. [People] make mistakes. But the cumulative power of the American experiment has thrilled the entire world, because people like you are willing to make it work -- in spite of all the difficulties.

"There's something in our American system about the exchange of ideas," Gore went on, "that can be translated into tangible changes in the way we live our lives together that's just different from any other country that came before us. And if you're willing to put up with what it takes to be a part of that -- I'm telling you, if you keep your heart right, the rewards are just beyond measure."

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