#50: A rich life doesn’t have to be expensive ⛷️

what if money was not the first line of defense for our feelings of scarcity?

It’s 6am and I’m in Michaela’s basement again. This is the third year in a row that I’ve stayed with her and it’s the first time I can’t call her my Airbnb host because this time I Venmo’d her directly. With how professionalized Airbnb has become, it’s rare nowadays to share the same home as your host, let alone other guests. The three rooms in this basement are separate listings, but we all share the same bathroom. When I tell my friends that Michaela is a private chef, they immediately ask if she cooks for her guests, but it’s actually the opposite. She’s always in the kitchen and the inside of her fridge is Tetris in food form. Fortunately, every room has a mini fridge and a large desk. These conveniences juxtaposed with the chessboard quilt and mountain mural make me feel like I’m in my own hotel room, just with a lot more soul. While the primary motivation to stay here is certainly the $30 per night rate, the location is actually ideal for someone like me who is only here in Salt Lake City to ski. I’m nestled south of the city, close enough to the Cottonwood Canyons to bolt over on a powder day. The makeshift herb garden, shower that’s always either too hot or too cold, and the finicky door lock are all familiar idiosyncrasies that remind me that I’m on my annual pilgrimage to ski the Wasatch.

I planned this solo ski trip two weeks ago when I was still in NYC. Every year, when it starts to get cold but there’s no mountains in sight, I start to get these internal itches to ski. Just like how birds follow the Earth’s magnetic fields to navigate in migratory patterns, I allow the crisp air on my face to let me know it’s time to head for the mountains.

I thought about inviting friends on this week long ski trip, but easily decided against it. Skiing with friends comes with camaraderie and competition, but at its essence, it’s something that an individual does. For my first week back and since it’s the end of the year, I intentionally wanted to embrace solitude both on the mountain and off. In fact, today I’ll be skiing at Solitude Mountain resort.

I recently journaled about all the things I wish I had more time to do and realized they all require being alone: reading, writing, stretching, walking while listening to podcasts. Since I knew that I wouldn’t be back for a while, before I left NYC I gave more of myself to others in a state of expansion. Now it’s time to contract inwards and be more with myself. Knowing that I’ll be living with six friends for the rest of ski season made it easier to designate this week for solitude. This week, I’m not here for aprés ski, group dinners, or cozy conversations by the fireplace. I’m just here to ski.

People think that skiing is expensive but it doesn’t have to be. This perception is perpetuated by peers who inevitably post their travels of Aspen, Niseko, and Zermatt on Instagram. I’ll admit for newcomers who have yet to commit, there is certainly a hurdle to cross. Costs can quickly balloon out of proportion if you fly in, stay in the resort, rent gear, and buy daily lift tickets. A single day of skiing at Deer Valley will run you $400 for just lift ticket and rentals. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

I grew up skiing tiny icy hills on the east coast, but I only became passionate for the sport after I moved to the Bay Area for college. As broke college students, we didn’t want to pay for lodging so we opted for day trips to Tahoe. As the only friend with a car, I would pick everyone up at 5:30am so that we could arrive right at 9am opening. Fueled by Monster Energy (the white can which is “Zero Ultra” flavored), we would ski nonstop until the lifts stopped at 4pm. On the way back, we would stop by the same In-N-Out in Sacramento because the next door Five Guys and Krispy Kreme alleviated any heated debates about where to eat. Looking back now, we were learning how to have fun despite our financial constraints.

Creative tension

With my voluntary ejection from the corporate world, I’m back in a similar situation, but with a different perspective. Rather than sulking in scarcity, I’ve been sifting through what I call creative tension. Maybe it’s just a friendlier way of saying “I’m poor”, but I’ve found ways to fulfill my needs without money being the go-to solution. Problems that used to be dealt with by throwing money are now being resolved using other ways. In the process of stripping my desires down to the bare essentials, I’ve learned that sometimes cheaper is actually better.

I wouldn’t normally describe driving alone for ten hours as ‘fun’, but yesterday was actually quite enjoyable. I alternated between daydreaming with Rüfüs Du Sol in the background and talking for hours with people close to me. At one point, I brain dumped all the thoughts swirling in my head by recording myself on Otter, an AI transcription app. Then this guy who DM’d me on Twitter called me from Bali while I was hurling through thick fog. Although I opt to drive because it’s cheaper, it’s also been a vessel for both introspection and conversation.

For ski trips in particular, food can easily become a negative aspect if you don’t plan ahead. To avoid expensive unsatisfying meals on the mountain, I pack a lunch. Recently I’ve been really into overnight oats. Since they don’t contain any dairy or meat, I feel comfortable with leaving it in the car for a few hours. It’s also nice not needing a microwave since those can be hard to find at ski resorts. I’ve refined this recipe over many iterations and now my 11-ingredient overnight oats comes packed with 1,000 calories including 70 grams of protein. The perfect fuel for skiing. In many ways, I stumbled into making my own meals out of the need to conserve cash, but now it seems obvious. Why wouldn’t I opt for affordable, nourishing meals over $20 flaccid chicken tendies?

Lastly, there’s the direct costs which can be broken down into ski gear and lift tickets. By buying my own gear, I’m able to amortize the cost of skiing over years rather than paying $50 a day. Beyond the savings, having your own gear is more convenient and comfortable. Time is saved when you can drive straight to the mountain. Performance improves when you no longer jam your feet into over-used chambers of contortion. Just like ski gear, a season pass is another high upfront cost that’s worth it if you ski enough. I did the math and last year’s season pass came out to $12 per day. That’s cheaper than going to see the movies.

At its core

When you have money, it can often be used as a crutch to temporarily solve problems. Fancy dinners and bottle service are great numbing agents for a miserable job. On the flip side, when you don’t have money, it’s easy to make excuses for not doing what you want. Being able to delay gratification is a useful skill for dieting, exercising, and honing your craft, whatever that might be. After all, it takes time for meaningful things to develop. But when we take it too far, we end up worshipping the FIRE movement and punting potential joy into the distant future. We lock up our desires in a glass box for when our pockets are lined and it finally feels like the “right time”.

I never want to be in a position where my identity wavers with fragility depending on how much money I have. I don’t want to be the guy who gets rich and then suddenly becomes a watch connoisseur. The opposite is true. If I were to lose all my money, I wouldn’t want my interests to change. Maybe this is why I’ve always been skeptical of both rich people who only like expensive things and poor people who detest all forms of luxury. Money will always come and go. I just hope I don’t wash away with it.

By not anchoring my sense of self to my net worth, I’m able to protect the essence of what I want despite my external financial situation fluctuating. At its core, going skiing only requires skis, boots, and a lift ticket. Aprés ski, slopeside lodging, and eating out are all non-essential. It would be far from ideal, but even gloves, goggles, helmet, and poles could be optional.

By wading in the tension induced by not having any income, I’ve been able to find creative solutions to get what I want. At first glance, ten-hour drives, overnight oats, and $30 basement Airbnbs might seem like painful sacrifices to make. But for me, they’ve become an enjoyable way to pass time, a healthier food choice, and an annual ritual. In all honesty, it’s possible I’d make different choices if I was still working in tech, but I know regardless, I’d still be skiing the same way. For me, sliding down a mountain on two planks of wood has become a way of life.

If life is a quest to figure out who we are and what we want, then maybe we can start by simply doing what we love despite the constraints. By wading through creative tension and distilling down to the essence, we find what we truly want. In the process, we might lose the non-essential bells and whistles, but at least we get to keep the bread and butter.

P.S. I started to conduct my annual review, a powerful tool for introspection. It’ll be my fifth year using Steve Schlafman’s Ultimate Annual Review template (get it for free here). Also, my last blog of this year will be a massive reflection of this entire year of being on sabbatical. Let me know in the comments or via DM/email what you’d like to know!