The STRONG framework

When I began this journey of 50 for 50 I knew exactly what I wanted to achieve, yet my approach was vague. I jumped in enthusiastically, tackling tasks at random and celebrating early victories. But around the six-month mark, things shifted. The initial easy wins faded, leaving me in what can generously be described as a slog.

At this turning point, I paused to reflect. My loose methodology—guided by unwritten rules—needed structure. I combed through my notes, carefully identifying successful behaviors and pinpointing obstacles. I had my insights, but what now?

Influencers often have catchy acronyms for their frameworks, so I brainstormed names. Nothing stuck until I revisited an earlier entry that emphasized the concept of finishing strong—pushing forward even when victory seemed uncertain. That resonated deeply, inspiring the creation of the finish STRONG framework for goal setting and achievement.

Let’s dive into this empowering framework:

Start Small – Commit to doing just one thing each day to progress your goals. Even on your busiest days, five minutes is enough: read a page, sketch a quick idea, jot down tomorrow’s task. This daily action trains your mind, signaling that your goals matter. Eventually, you’ll instinctively feel the need to keep progressing, and skipping a day will feel like something vital is missing.

Transform Habits – Humans thrive on habits, which makes them powerful tools for change. Start small, choosing manageable habits. The book “Atomic Habits” emphasizes how tiny, incremental changes lead to remarkable transformations. Its key lesson—align your habits with your desired identity—deeply impacted me. While I learned that habits often take longer than the popularly cited 30 days to solidify, persistent effort eventually made these behaviors automatic, seamlessly integrating them into my daily routine.

Rebuild Mindset – Among the framework’s elements, mindset is pivotal. To achieve significant goals, you must reinvent how you see yourself—not as someone who might succeed, but as someone who will succeed. Shifting your self-perception eliminates room for hesitation. My mindset transformation was personal; embracing stoicism profoundly changed my worldview, strengthening my resolve and clarity.

Overcome Obstacles – Despite meticulous planning, setbacks are inevitable. Injuries, overwhelming workloads, illnesses, family obligations—each can derail your progress. But it’s not the obstacles themselves, rather your response, that defines your journey. “The Obstacle is the Way” articulates this beautifully: viewing challenges as opportunities to build resilience and strength. Its three-part framework—clearly perceiving obstacles, taking decisive action, and wholeheartedly accepting difficulties—helps cultivate an unwavering spirit and determination.

Never Quit – You will face moments of deep frustration, when progress stalls or even reverses. Giving up becomes tempting, rationalized by thoughts like, “Who would care if I quit?” The answer is simple: You would care. Abandoning your goals creates subtle self-doubt, convincing you that you lack perseverance. Resist that temptation. Slow down, adjust your timeline, but never surrender. Persistence ensures you ultimately achieve the greatness you envisioned.

Gather Data – Tracking progress became essential in my journey. Initially, I relied on a notebook (OneNote) for quick notes and recaps, keeping everything organized. But it was the Google Sheet that truly elevated my motivation. Each goal had its own tab, and a summary sheet visually tracked my progress through checkboxes and color-coded progress bars. Seeing bars turn blue at 100% completion sparked excitement, reinforcing accountability and highlighting areas needing immediate attention.

This finish STRONG framework transformed my approach from chaotic optimism into structured success, ensuring every step forward was intentional, meaningful, and enduring.

I Did It.

Wow. That was quite a journey. I’m honestly still processing the fact that I managed to complete everything. Looking back, I’ve spent over two decades setting goals, and the highest I ever reached before was maybe 60% completion—and that was with a modest list of just ten goals. When I first considered taking on this challenge, I almost talked myself out of it, remembering past failures. But turning 50 flipped a switch in me. I figured I might not succeed, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t even attempt it. Maybe not the most optimistic mindset to start with, but if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that with discipline and structure, you can fundamentally shift how you approach things.
Coming up with 50 goals was an adventure in itself. The first few were easy—I pulled from old, unfinished goals and added new ones that felt both exciting and challenging. But once I hit the 30-goal mark, I struggled. That’s when I had to shift my perspective. I started thinking about what turning 50 really signified. I reflected on what I had accomplished, what I had always wanted to do but never got around to. And then it hit me: I had spent years assuming there would always be time. But what if there wasn’t? Shouldn’t I seize the moment now, while I still had the energy to truly enjoy it? That realization changed everything. Suddenly, the list filled itself. Visiting my father’s hometown in Italy. Buying my dream guitar. Sipping on really old Scotch. Once I reframed the process, it became much easier to round out the list. I even left a few open slots, which I later filled with “Explore AI” and “Complete a Bob Ross painting tutorial.”


As I got deeper into rounding out the 50, I found myself turning to the internet for inspiration. Seeing what others had on their goal lists helped me refine mine. Some ideas resonated, some didn’t, but the process helped me think outside the box. And ironically, one of my late additions—learning about AI—ended up being a game-changer. AI became an essential tool throughout the year. With a goal of blogging about my experience, I faced an immense workload, closing in on nearly 300 posts. Without AI’s help in researching topics, I would have been buried under the effort. I even used AI to critique my writing, offering an unfiltered, sometimes ego-bruising editorial lens that ultimately improved my work.
To keep myself accountable, I knew I needed rules. Once the 50 goals were set, I committed to not altering them to make things easier. But I’m also pragmatic—life happens. In the early months, I tore something in my shoulder, which derailed my fitness-related goals. So, I built in a contingency: I allowed myself to swap out five goals if necessary. This gave me a degree of flexibility while ensuring I didn’t just swap out challenges for convenience. I ended up using four swaps (documented on my website), and two of them were due to physical limitations rather than avoidance.


So how did I pull this off while managing a full-time job, two small kids, and a marriage? With structure. I built a framework that allowed me to make progress without compromising what truly mattered.
The first rule: priorities first. My family always comes first—no exceptions. I didn’t pursue these goals at the expense of time with my kids or my wife. I still coached my kids’ teams, played with them on weekends, and handled all the usual parenting duties. I made sure my wife and I kept our Friday lunch dates, giving us uninterrupted time together. And work? That stayed a priority too. I enjoy my job and wasn’t about to let this project interfere with my professional commitments. With those priorities locked in, anything else became negotiable.


The second rule: do something every day. Even on chaotic days—work was crazy, the kids had back-to-back activities, and my wife was out of town—I could still do something. Read a few pages of a book. Practice Italian on Babbel for five minutes. Write a quick gratitude journal entry. Even brushing my teeth at night, I could squeeze in a small action. The consistency was the key. After a few months, it became so ingrained that skipping a day felt like a glitch in my system. These small, daily efforts accumulated, creating momentum that accelerated progress over time.


The third rule: find hidden time. It’s there if you look for it. That hour-long commute? Perfect for listening to educational podcasts or checking off an album from my music list. Instead of doom-scrolling my phone during lunch, I’d read, write, or learn something new. Even waiting for my kids to finish practice became an opportunity—reading on my Kindle, researching goals, or sketching ideas. Once I stopped treating time as something to kill and started seeing it as something to use, my productivity skyrocketed.


The final rule: track everything. This was huge. I needed to see my progress at a glance, so I built a spreadsheet with progress bars and a dashboard to keep me motivated. If one goal was lagging, I’d shift focus to bring it up to speed. As the months passed and those bars turned blue, I felt the inertia pulling me forward. That visual reinforcement made a huge difference. I also used OneNote to collect ideas, notes, and drafts, which kept me organized and efficient. These tools gave me a comprehensive view of where I stood at any given moment.


As the year progressed, I started identifying areas of wasted time and replacing them with intentional actions. Little by little, I started to see myself as someone who followed through, rather than someone who set goals only to abandon them. That shift in self-perception was a turning point. Once I hit 75% completion, I could see the finish line. In the last 60 days, I went into overdrive, laser-focused on getting everything to 100%. I don’t think I could have sustained that level of intensity for an entire year, but as I neared the end, it felt like shifting from marathon pace to an all-out sprint.


But of course, there were downsides. Sustaining focus for an entire year was mentally exhausting. Between work, family, and this challenge, there were weeks when I was completely burned out. Fortunately, some of my goals—meditation, hiking, drawing—helped counteract the stress. On particularly rough weeks, I leaned into those activities, taking long hikes with my kids to reset. Still, there were stretches, especially in the summer, where I did nothing, and guilt crept in. Eventually, I realized that guilt was unnecessary. I wasn’t trying to become a productivity guru or a social media influencer—I was just a 50-year-old guy trying to accomplish something meaningful. And as I watched my goals falling one by one, I realized that even with breaks, I was still on track.


Another major downside? Free time took a massive hit. Movies, TV, video games—I barely engaged with any of them. I didn’t play a single hour of video games all year, missed most new film releases, and barely kept up with my sports teams. (Not that the Jets gave me much to miss.) These things might not be “productive,” but they’re enjoyable, and I realized I missed them. Sometimes, you just want to unwind and watch your favorite team blow a late lead.


Ultimately, I learned so much from this experience—not just about discipline and productivity, but about balance, adaptability, and what really matters. There were tough moments, but overall, I’m glad I did it. And now, looking ahead, I’m excited to see where these lessons take me next.

The Power of Discipline

Self-discipline is often seen as something reserved for high achievers—athletes, CEOs, military leaders—people with an almost superhuman ability to resist temptation and power through obstacles. The Power of Discipline by Daniel Walter dismantles that myth, arguing that discipline isn’t an inborn trait but a skill that anyone can develop. The book makes a strong case that success isn’t about motivation or talent—it’s about consistently doing what needs to be done, even when you don’t feel like it.

At its core, The Power of Discipline is a guide to understanding why we struggle with self-control and how to build habits that make discipline automatic. Walter explains that most people rely too much on willpower, which is both unreliable and finite. When you force yourself to resist temptation through sheer willpower, you’re fighting an uphill battle that you’re bound to lose eventually. Instead, discipline is about setting up systems that make good decisions easier and bad decisions harder. The key isn’t to have endless self-control—it’s to remove the need for self-control in the first place.

One of the most important takeaways from the book is the idea that discipline isn’t about making radical changes overnight. People fail at self-improvement because they try to do too much at once, burning out before real progress happens. Walter argues that discipline is built through small, consistent actions. Whether it’s waking up earlier, cutting out distractions, or sticking to a workout plan, the trick is to start small and build momentum. By doing something every day—even if it’s just a tiny step—you train your brain to follow through, making discipline a habit rather than a struggle.

Another powerful concept Walter explores is the role of delayed gratification. In a world of instant everything—instant entertainment, instant communication, instant food—it’s easy to get trapped in short-term thinking. But true success comes from prioritizing long-term rewards over immediate pleasure. The book reinforces this idea with research on how the most successful people are the ones who can consistently delay gratification, choosing to do what’s beneficial in the long run rather than what feels good right now. Whether it’s saving money instead of spending it, choosing a healthy meal over fast food, or putting in extra work when no one is watching, self-discipline is about making choices today that your future self will thank you for.

Walter also challenges the common belief that motivation is the key to discipline. The problem with motivation is that it’s unreliable—it fluctuates based on mood, environment, and external circumstances. People wait for motivation to strike before taking action, which is why they struggle to stay consistent. The book flips this thinking on its head: action comes first, and motivation follows. The more you take action—even when you don’t feel like it—the easier it becomes to keep going. Discipline isn’t about waiting to want to do something; it’s about doing it anyway, and letting motivation catch up later.

Another major insight from the book is the impact of environment on discipline. Most people fail not because they’re weak-willed, but because they set themselves up for failure without realizing it. If your phone is next to you while working, of course you’re going to get distracted. If junk food is in your kitchen, of course you’ll be tempted to eat it. Walter emphasizes that discipline isn’t just about resisting temptation—it’s about removing temptation altogether. Setting up an environment that supports good habits is one of the most effective ways to stay disciplined without constantly battling distractions.

Perhaps the most encouraging aspect of The Power of Discipline is that it reassures readers that self-control is a muscle that can be strengthened. No one is born naturally disciplined, but by practicing small acts of discipline daily, you build the mental toughness needed to achieve long-term goals. It’s not about perfection—it’s about persistence. You will slip up, you will have days where you don’t follow through, but the key is to keep going. Discipline isn’t about never failing—it’s about getting back on track every time you do.

What makes this book stand out is that it strips away the excuses people use to justify their lack of discipline. It doesn’t sugarcoat the fact that discipline requires effort, but it also makes it clear that anyone—regardless of background, personality, or past failures—can develop it. If you’ve ever felt like you lack the willpower to stick to your goals, The Power of Discipline offers a straightforward, practical roadmap for developing the habits and mindset needed to take control of your life. In a world where distractions are everywhere and self-control feels harder than ever, this book serves as a much-needed reminder that discipline isn’t a talent—it’s a choice.