Recovery, Coffee Mugs, and the Boring Part of the Plan

Good morning {{first_name|Reader}}.

Walked into the (garage) gym four times this week. First time in months that felt like a win instead of an obligation. It’s been a long recovery post-spine surgery (longer than I expected), but something clicked. The fire was back. I'm not moving weight like I used to, but I'm moving weight again. That's the number that matters right now.

Also bought a coffee mug. Owala, on sale, because the one I've been using leaks all over my bag. $29 for gas in the Prius. That's it. $0 on impulse purchases. With all the holiday shopping pressure screaming at me. Some weeks you win by what you don't buy.

Still working at building net worth and moving toward work-optional in our 40s. Savings are steady. I'm at the boring part of the plan where nothing dramatic happens and you just keep showing up. Turns out that's most of it.

I’m always looking for feedback. Let me know! Reply to the email.

(For this article, we are looking at ref 235.10.38.20.13.001)

The Railmaster doesn't get the attention the Speedmaster or Seamaster Diver get, which is a reason that I like it more.

38mm case. Vertical brushed slate grey dial. Arabic numerals. Arrow-tipped hands. 150 meters of water resistance. Transparent caseback showing the Co-Axial Master Chronometer movement. This is not a tool watch pretending to be dressy or a dress watch pretending to be tough. It's just a well-made watch that does one job well: keeping time without screaming for attention.

At $6,800, this is serious money. Let's say you wear it 250 days a year (about 68% of the year) for 10 years. That's 2,500 wears. Cost per wear: $2.72. Is it worth it to you?

But let's be honest about alternatives. $6,800 could also be:

Omega holds value better than most Swiss brands not named Rolex or Patek, but this will depreciate. Expect to lose 20–30% if you sell it in five years. It's not an investment. It's a watch.

I'd personally skip it.

Not because it's not great. It IS a great watch. But the small seconds hand at 6 o'clock is not for me. I want a traditional seconds hand or no seconds hand at all. The older Railmaster models (1950s–60s vintage) had normal seconds hands, better proportions, and can be found for $3K–$5K if you're patient. I'd rather hunt for one of those. (Omega also has other new models with a large seconds hand.)

That said, if you love the modern case finishing, the anti-magnetic movement, and the warranty that comes with buying new, this is a fantastic alternative to the Rolex everyone else is chasing. You'll start better conversations with this on your wrist than you will with a Submariner. That might be worth the premium.

Who this is for: Someone who wants a high-end Swiss watch but doesn't want to play the Rolex waiting game. You value understated over obvious.

Who should skip it: Anyone who wants instant recognition, anyone bothered by small seconds, anyone not willing to accept 20–30% depreciation.

This Week’s Breakdown

Starting net worth: $XXX,XXX
Contributions (savings): $X,XXX
Investment additions: $X,XXX
Market gains: $X,XXX
Ending net worth: $XXX,XXX

(premium subscribers will see our actual numbers below)

I see so many guys at work hitting the gas station every day for lunch. $10, $15, sometimes $20 before they realize it. Bag of chips, energy drink, whatever heat-lamp sandwich looked least suspicious. Five years ago that trip cost $6. Now it's double. It’s just SO easy. I get it. You're tired. You're busy. The gas station is right there.

Here's the math: $15/day, five days a week, 50 weeks during the year. That's $3,750. On gas station food.

For the last five+ years I've packed a sandwich. Carrots. Protein bar. Energy drink. Bought in bulk at Costco. Cost per day: maybe $3. Probably less. That's $750/year instead of $3,750. Difference: $3,000.

$3,000 is:

I'm not saying never go out to eat. Special occasions, celebrating something, meeting a friend, trying a place you've been wanting to try, do it. But the daily gas station run isn't about enjoyment. It's about convenience. And convenience is expensive, and usually unhealthy.

The sandwich takes four minutes to make (even with my weighing out everything on a food scale). The gas station trip takes six minutes round trip. You're not saving time. You're just spending money to avoid thinking about it.

I'm not better than anyone. I’ve been this guy before. I'm just tired of bleeding money on things I don't even remember eating.

(Buy a watch from Ian)

Started watching Dancing With The Stars with my kids this week.

Yeah, I know. But hear me out.

I used to watch it with my mom years (decades?) ago. We'd sit on the couch, give our completely unqualified scores, argue about who deserved to stay. I’ve grown up. The show kept going. I didn't think about it much until my kids stumbled onto it and got hooked.

Now it's been every night after work. Three kids, all of us on the couch, scoring routines we couldn't do if our lives depended on it. They're learning about jive and tango and samba. I'm learning that the Mirrorball Trophy is apparently a bigger deal than I realized. We're all learning that Carrie Ann Inaba is deeply invested in footwork.

I'm tired at the end of the day. Always. Most nights I'd rather scroll my phone or zone out. But here's what I know: I've got 18 years with these kids under my roof. That's it. After that they're gone and I'm the guy who wishes he'd spent more time with them when he had the chance.

Time is the only thing you can't get back. Doesn't matter how much money you have. You can't buy more Tuesday nights.

That's why my wife and I are doing this — the saving, the investing, the saying no to many things we want. We're building toward work-optional so we can spend as much time as possible with them before they're out the door. The Rolex can wait (until you’ve saved for it). The index fund can compound. The Dancing With The Stars episodes won't.

So we watch. And we score. And they laugh when I get the dance names wrong. And that's the whole point.

Watches mark time. The choices behind them mark intentions.

—Ian

(Okay, that's dramatic. Real poll: Do you pack lunch or buy it? And if you buy it, how much are you spending per week? LMK)