Fall in Love With Boredom

Palm Sunday came quietly this year. No big declarations. No loud sacrifices. Just a quiet kind of commitment—one that requires you to stay the course even when nobody’s watching. Lent, in the traditional sense, is a period of fasting, reflection, and restraint. No dairy. No meat. And yet, here I am... shrimp on the plate. Classic Fredo. Still, discipline doesn’t always look holy—it just needs to be honest.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to stay focused—not in the Instagram-inspirational-quote kind of way, but in the real way. The kind where being focused actually feels... boring. Where the days blur together, and success isn’t loud or sexy—it’s quiet, repetitive, and exhausting. You just keep showing up.

That’s been my reality lately. I’ve been sleeping late—2, sometimes 3AM—only to wake up a couple hours later to a flurry of messages. Not a "good morning" in sight. Just pings and needs. Deadlines. Decisions. Demands. It’s a constant sprint masked as a marathon. And yet, this is what building something meaningful looks like. When the mission matters, the habits hold you.

One of the realest lessons from Atomic Habits that stuck with me is this: mastery isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing the same thing over and over again until you become fascinated with it. Until the boredom becomes the beauty. That’s what separates the amateur from the professional. Not motivation. Not talent. Just the ability to show up when it’s inconvenient.

And this past weekend, I got a reminder of why that matters.

I was on the phone all on Saturday, reconnecting with family and friends—laughing, problem-solving, being human. And I had a conversation with one of my earliest mentors, Tom Peltier. Years ago, Tom approached me when I was still a teenager working at Masterman’s. He asked me a simple question: “What do you want to be in life?” I said, full of pride, “Successful.” He nodded and walked away. No reaction.

Later that night, he emailed me: “How will you become successful? And what does success mean to you?”

That one hit me. It still hits me. Because it was the first time someone challenged me to define my version of success—not the world’s, not my parents, not Instagram’s. Mine. Since then, Tom’s been that voice in my life that shows up with a question instead of a lecture. And this weekend, he asked me: “Do you want to write about the BS version of success, or tell the truth about what it actually takes to get there?”

That question’s been living in my chest.

Because truthfully? It’s harder than ever to live well. I’m optimistic, yeah—but I’m also real about the weight of life. The time, the energy, the grief, the obstacles, the mental strain of making decisions, holding space for others, running the plays. And lately, I’ve found myself not just chasing peace—but protecting it. I've been investing more into my health—literally. Looking at vitamins. Cutting corners less. Getting curious about longevity—not just for performance, but for presence. For heritage.

The way I see it, this isn’t just about adding years to life—it’s about adding life to years. About staying present, so you can show up for the people you love and the purpose that drives you. That’s why I'm so obsessed these days with the systems that keep me grounded. With routines that restore me. With discipline that builds a future I want to be around for.

It’s part of a bigger arc I’ve been thinking about—a trajectory rooted in connection. Not just business development or success as a metric. But the deep, human kind of development. The kind that lets you build relationships across time zones and generations, because you’ve taken the time to build one with yourself first.

Thank you, Tom—for being one of the many guides over the past 15 years who’ve helped me return to my “why” when everything else feels noisy. Your questions keep shaping the story I’m still writing.

And to everyone reading: I hope you stay encouraged. I hope you remember that boredom isn’t a sign you’re off track. It’s often the clearest proof that you're on it.

If you're feeling tired, that's okay too. Rest. Laugh. Talk to someone who sees you. Then get back to it. Let’s get it this week.

You’re closer than you think.

With love and rhythm,
Fredo