Back in 2017, I wrote a short piece about what it takes to finish something meaningful. It leaned heavily on metaphor — the golf green, the short game, the final stretch — and even pulled in the Green Lantern as a symbol of will. At the time, that made sense. I was in a season where finishing felt like an act of courage, a battle with resistance, a confrontation with fear.
But between 2017 and releasing The Productivity Diet, something in my philosophy shifted. Not abruptly — more like the slow turning of a dimmer switch. What I believed about finishing matured. Or maybe more accurately, it widened.
Here’s what’s changed.
I used to see finishing as an act of will. Now I see it as a consequence of rhythm.
In the old piece, willpower was the engine. Fear was the hazard. Touchstones kept you on the path. The whole thing had the energy of a final push — the idea that you summon strength, lean on symbols, and close the gap.
A lot of us have been taught finishing that way:
clench your jaw, push through, don’t look up until you’re done.
But The Productivity Diet pulls from a different well.
Finishing doesn’t come from willpower alone. It comes from how you shape your days, how you move through intention and attention, how you respond when your energy shifts, how your systems flex with the realities of your life. It’s not a short-game skill — it’s a cadence.
Willpower gets you over the line once. Rhythm carries you beyond it again and again.
I used to think fear was the final barrier. Now I think rigidity is.
Fear still matters. It always will. But over the years I’ve watched how often people stall — not at the end, but all along the way — because they’re trying to force themselves into rigid systems, fixed routines, or absolutist rules that don’t fit the shape of their lives.
That’s why The Productivity Diet spends so much time dismantling those absolutes:
the “always,” the “never,” the false certainty of one right way to work.
When finishing requires you to force yourself into someone else’s structure, you burn out before you arrive.
When finishing comes from systems that adapt to your rhythms, you move forward with far less friction.
I used to emphasize touchstones. Now I emphasize tools.
Back then, the Green Lantern ring, the “Beat Resistance” plate, the Vision bobblehead — they were reminders of the why. They grounded me. They still do.
But in the book, I shifted toward tools that help you stay oriented regardless of how motivated you feel in the moment: Time Theming. Attention Paths. Reflective Practice. Energy alignment. Boundaries. Adjustments. Reviews. The structures that help you center what matters and reduce the drag of everything else.
These aren’t artifacts. They’re practices.
They don’t nudge you across one finish line — they help you navigate all of them.
I used to write about finishing. Now I write about continuing.
The old metaphor lived at the end of the course: you’re close, you’re almost there, keep going.
Today, I’m far more interested in what carries you year after year — through seasons of clarity, seasons of confusion, seasons of friction, seasons where everything seems to click.
Finishing still matters. But finishing isn’t the point.
What matters more is the relationship you’re crafting with your work, your energy, and your time. A relationship that lets you keep going without grinding yourself down in the process.
In one sentence…
I used to treat finishing as a moment of strength. Now I treat it as the natural outcome of a sustainable rhythm.
And honestly? The rhythm is far more powerful.
It’s what allows you to finish strong today — and still have something left for tomorrow.
