Lately I’ve been thinking about friction-maxxing—a concept that’s been buzzing around as we head into 2026. I first encountered it in an article by Kathryn Jezer-Morton, and it really made me pause. At its core, friction-maxxing is about choosing discomfort and challenge over ease and automation—not out of masochism, but because friction helps us actually live, not just drift through life.
We’re surrounded by technologies designed to eliminate every tiny barrier: apps that answer questions instantly, social media and shopping algorithms that predict our every whim, services that deliver meals without us lifting a finger. Sure, these conveniences save time, but I’ve started to wonder what they cost us. When we stop having to work for anything, what do we lose? What resilience, patience, or confidence might fade when there’s no friction left to overcome?
For me, friction-maxxing isn’t about rejecting all modern conveniences wholesale, but recognizing where friction actually builds character and connection. It’s opting to read a physical book instead of scrolling endlessly; it’s sending a text yourself rather than relying on AI to craft it; it’s allowing the small stresses of real life—messy conversations, slow errands, imperfect moments—to shape you rather than smoothing them away.
I’m still figuring out what this looks like day-to-day, but I’ve noticed something: the moments that matter tend to be the ones that aren’t easy. Friction isn’t the enemy—it’s a kind of training ground for patience, depth, and presence. (Much like the strength training I’ve started doing at the gym.) And in a world obsessed with eliminating effort, that feels surprisingly invigorating.
Now I just need to figure out what physical book I am going to take off the shelf and crack open.
PHOTO CREDIT: Broken glass screen. (by Sashataylor via Wikimedia)
