The Hacker in Me

What one book – and a new friend who gets it – taught me about showing up when I want to coast.

A few weeks ago, I got back from drum camp – equal parts humbling and motivating, like always. I wrote about the experience here. My campmate Stephen read the blog. Then he sent me a book.

It was Mastery by George Leonard. Short book. Big impact. It’s basically a manifesto for anyone trying to get better at anything – drumming, business, health, anything, you name it.

One section stopped me cold.

Leonard describes a type of person he calls The Hacker. Someone who picks up a new skill, gets decent, then just…coasts. Doesn’t push further. Avoids the discomfort of being a beginner again. Doesn’t want to do the reps when the novelty wears off.

And yeah – that’s me. That’s been me. Not always, but more often than I’d like to admit.

Take drumming, for example. I took lessons, got good enough to join a jam band, even played a few gigs in some dive bars in Manhattan. But I never got good good. Because I didn’t put in the reps. I skipped the grind. I ignored the rudiments and just jammed to my favorite ’80s tunes. At drum camp, it shows – fast. You can immediately tell who’s done their homework and who’s just coasted. And let’s just say…it was clear which camp I was in.

Two Things Can Be True

Here’s the thing: I haven’t coasted through life. In fact, in business and investing, I’ve been on the mastery path for decades.

I’ve put in the hours (the years, really) building, optimizing, refining. I’ve stayed with businesses through the boring, unglamorous middle. I’ve seen the compounding returns of long-term thinking. I’ve felt what it’s like to suck at something, then grind through the plateau and emerge on the other side sharper and stronger. That’s where I’ve thrived.

So this isn’t some sweeping self-criticism. It’s not black and white.

People love to sort themselves into neat little categories: “I’m a grinder,” “I’m a dabbler,” “I’m all in or not at all.” But that’s nonsense. The truth is, you can be on the path of mastery in one domain and a total hacker in another. That was my blind spot.

I brought a mastery mindset to my companies – but not to the drum kit. I treated practicing like a hobby, not a craft. I expected results without reps. And that mismatch finally caught up with me.

The Shift to Mastery

These days, I show up differently.

I practice the boring drum stuff daily – the rudiments, stick control, clean strokes. Most days, it feels like I’m not making any progress at all. But then something shifts. Out of nowhere, I realize I can now play clean single strokes at 110 bpm – when just a month ago, 90 bpm felt like a struggle. That didn’t come from a breakthrough. It came from the grind. Quiet, unremarkable, and consistent.

I’ve started applying the same principle to my fitness routine. I’m not chasing PRs or looking for six-week transformations. I’m chasing the next rep. The next clean movement. The next day I show up. Small, steady gains. No fireworks. No dopamine hits. Just the work. And it’s working.

What I have learned is that consistency beats intensity. Every time.

“The plateau isn’t where progress dies. It’s where mastery is born.”

This Is the Work

If you’re feeling stuck right now – if you’re in the middle of something that used to feel exciting but now just feels flat – I want to offer a different take:

That might not be a problem. That might be proof you’re doing it right.

The plateau isn’t where progress dies. It’s where mastery is born. The reps that feel like they don’t matter? They’re the ones that matter most. And the boring stuff? That’s the stuff that builds you.

The world will keep selling you shortcuts and dopamine hits. But mastery? It’s slow. It’s quiet. It’s earned.

So if you’re not seeing the payoff yet, don’t quit. Don’t coast. Don’t jump to the next shiny thing. Just stay.

This is the work.

Right Book. Right Time. Right Friend.

After I wrote about drum camp, my campmate Stephen messaged me. He had read my blog, recognized something in it, and mailed me a copy of Mastery by George Leonard. No commentary. Just the book.

That gesture hit harder than any feedback or advice could. It wasn’t just thoughtful – it was accurate. He saw what I hadn’t fully admitted to myself: that I was straddling the line between dabbling and committing. And he gave me the nudge to pick a side.

The book didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. It reminded me of what I’d forgotten and what I still needed to do.

So now I keep it on my desk. Not as inspiration, but as a reminder.

A reminder that this isn’t about getting “good.”
It’s about showing up. Doing the reps. Staying on the path.
Even when it’s boring. Especially when it’s boring.

If you’ve read this far, maybe this is your nudge too.