Learning something new later in life is both humbling and rewarding.
Thursdays I take guitar lessons. Because my instructor is good, he pushes me. First I have to intellectually understand the lesson (the music theory of it) and then learn how to physically execute it.
Over the last few years, I've immersed myself in music—songwriting, guitar playing, performing, and more recently, learning to play slide guitar. What looked simple when I watched experienced musicians quickly became a lesson in patience.
Some days progress is slow. Really slow. On some days it is frustrating.
My fingers don't always cooperate. Notes buzz. Intonation is all over the place. Some days it feels like I am taking two steps backward for every step forward. There were moments of frustration when I questioned whether I would ever sound the way I wanted to sound.
But that's the reality of learning any new skill.
The breakthroughs don't come all at once. They arrive in small moments. A clean slide into the right note. A song that suddenly feels natural. A technique that seemed impossible last month becoming second nature today.
Those moments are what keep us going.
What I've learned is that talent matters far less than consistency. Showing up every day—even for 15 or 20 minutes—creates progress that is almost invisible in the short term but remarkable over time.
The same lesson applies whether you're learning music, building a business, practicing law, training for a race, or developing any new skill. Progress is rarely linear. Frustration is part of the process. Mistakes are part of the process. Feeling like a beginner is part of the process.
The key is to keep showing up.
Looking back, every meaningful accomplishment in my life—from adventure racing to practicing law for decades to writing songs—has come from the same formula: persistence through discomfort.
Learning something new reminds us that growth begins where competence ends.