A Spending Problem: Runner Style
I have many friends (all of whom shall remain nameless, to protect the guilty from their significant others) who love to shop. I’m not saying they have spending problems, per se. I’m just saying that if I’m hanging out with these people during one of their periodic “financial diets”, we occasionally have to drive out of our way to avoid certain key money pits. You know, Nordstrom’s, Lululemon, Target…
(Never ever take a person with a spending problem into a Target!!!)
I’ve always congratulated myself on not having this particular problem. If I feel a need to compulsively shop, I’ll often go to the library and check out 18 books at once. I might throw my back out, and I’m certainly going to cause myself significant stress trying to read them all in 3 weeks, But hey, I think, as their plastic covers make my arms drip sweat in the Texas summer, I’m saving money!
And yet somehow, my account balance stubbornly refuses to go up. Even now that I’m home more often, eating PB&J and saving at least $2 a day on Diet Mountain Dew alone, it always amazes me how quickly the money just disappears.
So I decided to sign up for mint.com – which I’ve decided to do several times over the past few years, so by “sign up” I really mean “fix all those accounts that have exclamation points next to them and reset all my budgets so it doesn’t look like I’m $500 in debt on pet supplies” – and track where my money has been going.
August 7th – $75 to “Finish Strong” (Oh yeah, I still need to write that post titled, “Oops, I Did a Triathlon”)
August 15th – $65 to Pure Austin Fitness
August 26th – $50 to run the Zilker Relays (Errr…tomorrow)
August 28th – $50 to sign up for the Austin Distance Challenge (Paid before realizing one of the six races is actually on my anniversary. I am an a*shole.)
August 28th – $45 for the IBM 10K (First race of the distance challenge. Still hadn’t made the anniversary realization yet, so darling, when I said I was $50 in on this, I kind of actually meant $100…)
So by my count, that’s $225 in race fees alone. We’re not even talking shoes or training.
I have a problem.
Well, two, actually. Compulsively signing up for races, and – as a result – spending all my money on running.
And worst of all, I have roughly zero desire to address either of these issues. Sooo…time to get a job?