Stacking Hours
What My Kids Are Teaching Me About Mastery
Stacking Hours
What My Kids Are Teaching Me About Mastery
TL;DR:
My kids wake up at 8 AM every summer morning to train lacrosse for 4+ hours—not because anyone makes them, but because they've figured out what took me decades to learn: mastery isn't about talent or perfect plans. It's about "stacking hours"—showing up consistently, doing the work, and letting repetition create the results. My teenagers are already living this lesson that took me so long to learn.
Main Article
My friend Brian, whom I coach alongside and often learn from, has a phrase he returns to again and again: “stacking hours.”
A few days ago, I was standing in line at Chipotle with Wren when Brian and his two sons walked in behind us. Wren had just finished her morning at the Barn and was sharing her summer schedule with them: four hours of training every morning at Cincinnati Lacrosse Academy, followed by another two hours in the evening at club practice. She wasn’t bragging. Just telling the truth about her days. Brian’s oldest kids do the same thing (and are partially why our kids do it now). Brian smiled, nodded once, and whispered to me: “Stacking hours.”
I keep thinking about that idea, especially as I watch my kids in the morning.
Wake’s in high school now, and it’s summer. Every morning, he and Wren (our incoming 8th grader) wake up before 8 a.m. to train at the Lacrosse Academy. They’re there from 8 to 12:30, lifting, running speed drills, sharpening their stick skills. No one’s making them go. They just do it. Quietly. Consistently. They treat it like a summer job, except they wake up willingly. There’s no fanfare from Rachel or me. No big speeches. Just action. They're stacking hours in the purest way I’ve ever seen.
And I keep thinking: they’re already learning what took me decades to understand.
You don’t get better by wishing. You get better by doing. By stacking hours.
That truth has shown up in every meaningful area of my life—communication, leadership, coaching, lifting, parenting. I didn’t arrive at anything close to mastery with my natural ability (ask the Pirates, it's very limited). It’s always taken repetition. Time. A willingness to keep showing up even when it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere.
I learned how to communicate as a teaching pastor at Crossroads Church back in the early 2000’s. It wasn’t theoretical storytelling; it was trial by fire. We’d run five services every weekend, speaking live to over ten thousand people between Saturday late afternoon and Sunday early afternoon. One of my roles occasionally had me on our main stage. I’d spend hours during the week preparing, then deliver the whole thing in a full run-through midday on Saturdays, out loud, on stage, in front of a team who’d stop me mid-sentence and say, “Do it again, but this time actually mean it.”
It wasn’t glamorous. It was reps. Honest ones. Delivered under pressure, refined in real time. That’s where I learned the difference between talking at people and communing with them. That’s where I stopped performing and started connecting.
The same is true in the gym. Under the bar. Working with imperfect form until it gets better (or doesn’t). Letting the weight teach you something. Letting the process and the pirates shape you.
Watching Wake and Wren reminds me of the importance of practicing this truth.
They’re not chasing perfection. They’re building capacity. Bit by bit. Quietly. And it’s working.
We overcomplicate mastery. We build plans, strategies, and ten-year visions. But most of what matters in life comes down to this:
Do the work. Feel the difference. Adjust. Repeat. Stack the hours.
So that’s what I’m holding onto this week: if it matters, if I want to get better, I need to follow the example right in front of me. I need to stack hours.
Because Wake is. Wren is. And that moment in line at Chipotle made it clear, they’re already living the lesson I’m still chasing: stack the hours, and let the math handle the rest.
