This week, Allison and I are loading up the car, boarding a plane, and heading to Florida with three generations of family in tow. My parents. My brother and sister. Their spouses. Allison's mom. And, for the first time, our son.

As I've gotten older, I've realized that the most meaningful moments in life rarely announce themselves while they're happening. They're often disguised as beach walks, shared meals, late-night conversations, and a crowded house full of people you love.

This week is a reminder that while achievement matters, the memories we're building with the people around us matter even more.

There’s a quote you’ve probably heard a hundred times:

"You’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with."

It’s overused, but I’ve always believed in the truth in it.

The people around us shape more than we realize. We borrow their language, adopt their habits, and quietly adjust our expectations of what’s possible based on what we see them doing. Especially early in life, our environment becomes our default setting.

Everyone knows someone from a really small town who never left, and also someone who grew up in a hyper competitive ambitious environment, and the difference in outlook in their lives is easy to see.

But lately, I’ve been thinking less about the physical version of this idea and more about the digital one.

The average American spends roughly 2.5 hours per day on social media. That’s over 17 hours every week consuming ideas, opinions, stories, and emotions from people we’ve chosen to let into our lives.

Which raises a simple question:

How often do we pay attention to what’s filling those hours?

I’ve seen both sides of this influence.

We all know someone who seems perpetually angry about politics, culture, or whatever outrage is trending this week. More often than not, a quick look at their feed would reveal a steady stream of content reinforcing that mindset every single day.

I’ve experienced the opposite.

As I’ve followed more accounts centered on fitness, nutrition, reading, and running, I’ve found myself taking action on days when motivation was nowhere to be found. Sometimes the difference between skipping the workout and getting it done was simply the content I consumed that morning.

This week, do a quick audit.

Look at who you follow. Pay attention to the posts you like, save, and engage with. Every interaction is a vote telling the algorithm what you want more of.

If something consistently leaves you frustrated, discouraged, or drained, take action. If something inspires you to become better, take action there too.

The people and ideas around us shape who we become. The hard part is that some influences are difficult to change. Walking away from a lifelong friendship is complicated and painful.

Unfollowing an account that sends you into a negative spiral takes one tap. Start there.

A few nights ago, I found myself scrolling through old photos.

Buried among race pictures, gym selfies, and family memories was a photo from a Luke Combs concert several years ago. I remember seeing that picture for the first time on my flight back to Florida and feeling a punch in the gut.

Not because of how I looked. Because I knew I wasn't living the way I wanted to live. I’ve discussed it in this newsletter prior, but that photo became a turning point.

At the time, I thought the journey was about losing weight. Looking back, I realize it was really about becoming the type of person who keeps promises to himself. The physical changes came later.

First came the decision - The decision to stop waiting for motivation. The decision to stop treating health like something I'd prioritize "once life slowed down." The decision to take ownership.

And now as I reflect today, life looks very different than it did then.

I'm a husband. I'm a father. My schedule is fuller. My responsibilities are greater. There are fewer hours available and more reasons to skip the workout, order the takeout, or tell myself I'll start next week.

But the lesson hasn't changed. In some ways, it's become even more important.

I don't pursue fitness because I think I'll ever reach some finish line where the work is done. I pursue it because it reminds me who I am.

The races, the heavy lifts, the long runs, the difficult challenges - they aren't really about fitness. They're opportunities to test myself. To prove that comfort isn't in charge. To make sure that as life changes, I don't lose the part of me that wants to keep growing.

One thing I've learned is that progress is never linear.

I've lost weight and gained some back. I've been stronger than I am now and weaker than I am now. I've had seasons where training felt effortless and seasons where it felt impossible.

The goal was never perfection. The goal was always to come back.

If you're waiting for the perfect time to take control of your health, stop waiting. Life doesn't get less busy. There will always be another obligation, another excuse, another reason to put yourself last. But the future version of you is being built by the choices you make today.

Take the first step. You don't need a complete transformation. You just need a beginning.

Most productivity advice boils down to one message: Do more.

More meetings. More emails. More projects. More hustle.

Cal Newport's Slow Productivity pushes back against that entire philosophy, and it has become one of my favorite books to revisit.

The core idea of the book is simple but powerful: The goal isn't to do more work. The goal is to do more meaningful work.

Somewhere along the way, many of us started measuring productivity by activity instead of output. We confuse a packed calendar with effectiveness. We wear busyness like a badge of honor, even when it leaves us exhausted and moving in circles.

Newport argues that the highest performers throughout history didn't produce great work by filling every minute of their day. They produced great work by protecting their attention and focusing intensely on a small number of important things.

One concept from the book has stayed with me more than any other:

Do fewer things.

Not forever. Just right now.

This week's action is simple.

Take out a piece of paper and write down every meaningful project currently competing for your attention. Work initiatives. Side projects. Personal goals. Fitness pursuits. Everything.

Now circle the one or two that would create the biggest positive impact if they moved forward significantly over the next 30 days.

Those become your priorities.

Everything else gets intentionally slowed down, postponed, or placed into maintenance mode.

This sounds obvious. It's not.

Most of us aren't overwhelmed because we're lazy. We're overwhelmed because we're trying to make progress on ten important things at once.

The fastest path forward is often narrowing your focus, not expanding your effort.

I've found that whenever I feel scattered, stressed, or like I'm working hard without gaining ground, the answer is almost always the same: Too many priorities.

As Newport reminds us, meaningful work requires space. Create some this week.