{"id":39811,"date":"2010-08-12T04:00:08","date_gmt":"2010-08-12T11:00:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/getrichslowly.org\/blog\/?p=39811"},"modified":"2023-10-26T11:15:41","modified_gmt":"2023-10-26T17:15:41","slug":"life-after-debt-what-its-like-in-the-third-stage-of-personal-finance","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.getrichslowly.org\/life-after-debt-what-its-like-in-the-third-stage-of-personal-finance\/","title":{"rendered":"Life after debt: What it’s like in the third stage of personal finance"},"content":{"rendered":"
I paid off the last of my debt<\/a> in 2007, quit my day job<\/a> in 2008, and have been working to build wealth ever since. As I wrote early last year, I’m in the Third Stage of personal finance<\/a>: I’ve paid off my debt, built a cash cushion in savings, and am maxing out my retirement accounts. And after doing all of these things, I have money left over to spend on comic books and travel. I’m a lucky man.<\/p>\n For the past year, GRS readers have been asking me to write more about the Third Stage of personal finance. What’s it like there? What choices does a person face? What sorts of things does she do with her money?<\/p>\n Though I’ve wanted to respond to these requests, I haven’t.<\/p>\n Today, though, I’m going to write a little bit about the Third Stage of personal finance. I’m even going to share some actual numbers. All I ask is that when you see these numbers, you understand that I’m making conscious<\/i> decisions to spend this money<\/b>, and I’m sacrificing other things in my life to make the purchases I describe.<\/p>\n Tonight was Guys’ Night Out. Or Geek Night. Or, as my sister-in-law calls it, Dragon and Troll night. Every month, my band of geeky friends gets together for some sort of activity. It started out as a chance to play Dungeons and Dragons, but it’s morphed into an ever-changing variety of events.<\/p>\n Tonight, for example, we headed into downtown Portland to watch the Portland Timbers take on the Minnesota Stars. The Timbers are the local pro soccer team, for which I bought a pair of season tickets last spring. (I paid $435 for two general admission tickets.) We geeks didn’t watch the game from the stadium, though; instead, we headed next door to the Multnomah Athletic Club<\/a>. One of our group is a member, and he signed us in so we could watch from the club’s balcony, which overlooks the south end of the stadium.<\/p>\n The Multnomah Athletic Club is amazing. It’s posh \u2014 it oozes wealth. It looks like the sort of place where you might have to wear a suit and tie just to jog on the treadmill. Everything is dark wood and brass and wall-to-wall carpeting. The attendants at the door are<\/i> in suits and ties. It’s not a very J.D. place.<\/p>\n “Wow,” I said to Josh as we waited for the game to start. “This place must be expensive.”<\/p>\n “I knew somebody was going to bring that up,” he said. “It is<\/i> expensive, but my parents have been members for almost forty years. It only cost them $700 back then.”<\/p>\n “$700 for what?” I asked. “Per month?”<\/p>\n “No, $700 for the initiation fee,” Josh said. “I think the fee is getting close to $10,000 per family now.”<\/p>\n “$10,000?!?!?<\/i>” I asked. “Just to join?”<\/p>\n “Yeah,” said Josh. “And there’s a waiting list to get in. Plus, once you do<\/i> join, dues are about $200 a month.”<\/p>\n My mind boggled. I was about to say, “That’s outrageous!” when I realized: I’m<\/i> paying $200 a month for my<\/i> gym, too.<\/p>\n Whenever I talk about Crossfit<\/a> and the amazing things it’s done for my health, I always leave out the cost. Yes, I’ve lost 30 pounds. Yes, I’ve dropped from a size 38 to a size 32. Yes, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been in my life. But this progress has come with a cost: $200 a month, to be precise. You know what? It’s a cost I’m happy to pay, and one I plan to continue<\/i> paying. If this system is working \u2014 and it is \u2014 then it’s worth every penny. If I’m not fit, nothing else matters. (But again, taken out of context, this expense would look ludicrous.)<\/p>\n So, I admitted to Josh that I was paying just as much as he was for a gym membership. (But without any initiation fee, of course.) We stopped chatting as the match began.<\/p>\n We watched the Timbers and Stars play to a 2-2 draw in front of a large crowd. As the game wound down, I used my binoculars to spy my seats for next year. In 2011, the Portland Timbers will join Major League Soccer, and last month I spent $1410 to purchase a pair of tickets on the mid-field line. I’m eager for the season to start, and the current season isn’t even over!<\/p>\n Walking back to my car after the game, I thought about that expense: $1410 for a pair of season tickets for a soccer club. A couple of years ago, I would have thought that was insane. I wouldn’t have been able to view it as a justifiable expense, no matter how much I had in savings, no matter what sorts of sacrifices I made in other parts of my life. I would have condemned it as lifestyle inflation<\/a>.<\/p>\n Maybe it is<\/i> lifestyle inflation. But it’s also an example of conscious spending. I love soccer, and I can afford the tickets. I’m meeting all of my financial obligations. When you’ve paid off your debt, saved for emergencies, and set aside money for retirement, whatever’s left over is yours to do with as you please<\/b>, right? In my case, that means that if I want to buy Portland Timbers tickets, I can. I have no regrets.<\/p>\n These are the sorts of things I think about in the Third Stage of personal finance.<\/p>\n There are still financial dilemmas in the Third Stage. Being here doesn’t mean I can afford everything<\/i> I want. In fact, I’m always picking and choosing. (It’s just that the things I’m choosing between are sometimes more expensive than before.)<\/p>\n For example, Kris and I just learned about an opportunity to travel to Africa in February. Our college<\/a> has put together a package tour for alumni that includes visits to South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Namibia. It’s a 19-day tour and it costs $5600 per person.<\/p>\n Well.<\/p>\n I’ve been begging Kris to go to South Africa for a l-o-n-g<\/i> time. I’ve wanted to visit ever since I read Cry, the Beloved Country<\/i><\/a>. (Jolie Guillebeau doesn’t help by always reminding me that South Africa is her favorite place she’s ever visited.) Kris has always steadfastly refused to consider a trip to South Africa \u2014 until now. She actually wants<\/i> to go on this tour, and so do I.<\/p>\n The problem is that even though we’re in the Third Stage of personal finance, $5600 (per person!) is a lot of money for a trip. Especially considering we’ve already shelled out a lot for our upcoming journey to France and Italy.<\/p>\n\n
<\/span>The Cost of Fitness<\/span><\/h2>\n
<\/span>The Cost of Fun<\/span><\/h2>\n
<\/span>The Cost of Travel<\/span><\/h2>\n