Some lessons don’t arrive as thoughts. They linger as marks. Evidence. In high school, I got caught by a patrolling dean carving the phrase “I Eat C” (crap) into a wooden desk. In plain sight of my teacher. An interesting crime for someone who started in the “Tottenville Institute”, a program for higher education. Eggs thrown from a moving car filled with 16- and 17-year-olds was a thrill that lasted seconds, followed by a chase that lasted longer. A window smashed. A lesson learned about retaliation. Prank calls with recorded sound bites. Calling Santa Claus from a local pizzeria then watching him knock on a neighbor’s door while we hid and laughed. The neighbor didn't. A boomerang (poorly thrown) coming back exactly as advertised. Between the eyes. A scar I still see. Picking a fight with the neighborhood bully. Not a villain - just a bigger kid who didn’t know where to put his strength yet. Neither did I. When it snowed, ringing every doorbell on the block. Recruiting bodies for “snow bowl” football in the park. Following instinct. Gathering. Organizing. Pulling people into motion. And then there was the one that never faded. A softball buddy was out partying. Alcohol. Sleep. He choked on his own vomit and died. For real. When I found out, I remember feeling the absence where a person used to be. That’s when it quietly became clear: some consequences don’t give warnings. Some games don’t let you reset. Youth leaves marks- physical, social, emotional. We all carry them. The question isn’t whether they shaped me. They did. The question is what we build from them. I’m convinced that character doesn’t come from a clean past, but from scars we’re willing to study instead of hide from.

How are we feeling almost two weeks into the new year?

I’ve talked for years about the 3-minute rule. If it takes under three minutes, do it now. In plumbing, I generally use it to talk about callbacks. Do it once, do it right. Future re-work just erodes profit and credibility. Lately though I'm realizing that rule was pointing at something bigger. Touch it once. Not as a productivity trick. As a constraint for operating at a higher level. Here’s what I think of as a “touch”: -Opening the same email multiple times -Rereading the same draft without deciding -Thinking about the same task again tomorrow -Starting something without finishing it -Passing work forward unfinished because it feels easier now Every extra touch is a tax. On attention. On energy. And on trust - especially in leadership. Most inefficiency isn’t from doing hard things. It’s from revisiting simple things we avoided finishing. Thus incurring a dummy tax every additional time our monkey brain revisits it. Touch it once doesn’t mean “rush.” It means: >Decide while you’re there >Finish the thought >Close the loop >Or consciously park it with a next action No half-touches. No mental bookmarks. No future you problem. This is where it connects back to regulation. When I’m scattered, I touch everything five times. When I’m calm, clear, and present — once is enough. Higher standards don’t come from doing more. They come from respecting attention — yours and everyone else’s. I’m practicing this as a personal constraint. Not perfectly, but intentionally. What’s one place in your day where you’re touching things more than once - and paying for it?

A few months ago, something small surprised me on a golf course at the 1-Tom conference. I’m a once-a-year, below-average golfer. Yet on multiple occasions, I found myself standing over stroke-saving putts, with teammates needing me to sink them. And I did. Not because I suddenly got better, but because I stopped thinking about myself. I visualized what they wanted, without sense of self. It felt light. Freeing. And it happened. I wasn’t trying to perform. I wasn’t protecting my ego. I was serving up the outcome that best served the group- and the rest happened naturally. That round taught me something I didn’t expect: The stronger the why outside yourself, the quieter the noise inside your head, and body. When the inner self stops interfering with the outer self, it allows execution to improve. Pressure isn’t the enemy. Ego is.

I suck at multi-tasking. Despite the fact that I’ve been doing it all my life, the real question is… why? Have you ever felt the power of dedicated, focused attention on a single objective? It’s deep. It’s powerful. It works. Instead, I typically spin... Thoughts. Worries. Businesses. Goals. Conversations. Notifications. Butterflies to chase. If my brain had a smell, it’d be burning rubber. And we don’t talk about the wear and tear enough. Not just on results — on us. Multitasking chews up mental tread. Constant switching overheats the engine. Nothing breaks all at once… it just slowly degrades. The other day I was running errands while on a “quick” phone call. After reflection, I did neither well. Double the inefficiency; Half the fun. Created friction that didn’t need to exist. That’s what all gas, no traction looks like. Movement without progress. Effort without momentum. Focus preserves the machine. Less burnout. Less noise. Fewer self-inflicted repairs. I’m trying to not do more anymore. The inner turmoil is to stop grinding myself down while pretending it’s productivity. What’s one thing in your life right now that deserves your full, undivided attention?