Last week I flew to Puerto Rico on a missions trip with my church.
And listen — if we made a movie out of everything that happened, nobody would believe it. But that's a story for another day.
Here's the one I want to tell you.
It was night two.
My BJJ professor (who also happens to be one of our pastors) walked up and asked if I'd lead worship.
No warning.
No warm-up.
Just — hey, you want to do this?
I said "sure. I just need the chords."
That's it.
No panic. No sweating through my shirt.
Now, a lot of guitarists would have completely frozen up.
Their own church? Fine, maybe.
A partnering church in Puerto Rico? Cold? Unrehearsed? Unpolished?
Yeah. No thank you. Goodnight. I'll be in the van.
But I wasn't worried.
We played. We finished. A group of kids ran up after and said "that was awesome!!"
I nodded. Didn't have much to say.
Here's the thing though.
When you know the fretboard cold, when the chords live in your hands and not just your head, nothing like that phases you.
You don't survive it. You grow from it.
That's the difference between someone who practices and someone who trains.
Practice is noodling around hoping something sticks.
Training is building the kind of knowledge that shows up when the pressure does.
That's exactly why I built Train, Don't Practice.
It's a monthly subscription that sends you short, ten-minute lessons straight to your inbox.
- No app.
- No login.
- No hunting for what to work on today.
The lesson just shows up and you train.
Every lesson runs through one of eight lenses — chords, scales, rhythm, ear training, jamming, and more — all mapped to the same simple system.
No endpoint.
No certificate.
Just continuous progress, the way an athlete trains.
Because you don't want to plateau again.
You've felt what improvement feels like.
And going backwards? Not an option.
[Link to Train, Don't Practice]
Stay sharp,
Julio "cold, unrehearsed, and unphased" Rivera