Other than the obvious, I’ve been thinking a little about how money can’t actually buy a lot of things.

Money can buy me a Rosetta Stone (and man are they pricey) but it can’t make me sit at my computer 30 minutes a day for 6 months, doing all the lessons.

Money can buy me some really excellent running shoes, but it can’t make stick to the Couch to 5K app.

Money can buy me pretty much any book under the sun, but it can’t magically get the info into my head unless I sit there and read it.

Money can buy me a trumpet, but it can’t make me practice my scales.

Money can buy me health insurance, but it can’t make me go get preventative care.

Moving on, has anyone else experienced this phenomena:

In grad school, I got it in my head I would start swimming again. I had thrown a tank suit in with the stuff I packed. I bought $5 goggles and had a pair of flip flops that kept falling apart and I kept taping together.

After about a month of swimming five days a week, I noticed myself toweling off near a mirror one day and thought “what the…?” Upon closer inspection, I realized my ancient tank suit, from high school swim team, was actually now translucent and when it got wet, you could pretty much see through it.

(Did you think this was going in a happy body transformation direction? No.)

So I shelled out $50 for a new one. When the goggles finally snapped a few months later, I bought a more expensive pair and was delighted to find if you spend a little more on better cushioning, you don’t perpetually look like you’ve got two black eyes.

The moral of this story is that in this case, when I succeeded in committing to swimming regularly, money was secondary. I made do with what I had and bought new stuff as it wore down or broke once I was sure I was definitely going to stick with the hobby for a while.

Maybe you guys have more experience with this phenomena (I know I do):

I was going to be a roller derby superstar. Ok, maybe not a superstar, but I was going to play roller derby. I bought the skates for around $100. Then there was the helmet, the knee, elbow and wrist guards, and the mouth guard. For about $200 of investment, I went roller skating maybe a dozen times, never went to so much as a practice for roller derby, and now most of that stuff still sits in my closet.

Because maybe someday I’ll still manage to be a roller derby star! …but probably not.

The other day I wrote about do it NOW – the driving forces behind the how of do it NOW, for me, are desire and commitment.

I desire an out come enough to make a commitment to it.

I desire to know what my family is saying when everyone gathers are Christmas enough that I commit to 30 minutes a day for 6 months with the Rosetta Stone.

I desire to sleep better and feel better and make my stupid pants fit right, so I commit to running (although life’s so much better when there’s a pool around).

I desire to get better with personal finance and as a manager, so I read all the books I can find on these subjects.

To me, desire feels like the necessary catalyst for a good goal, but commitment is what gets me to the finish line, even when the desire fades.

I hate running in humidity. Commitment pushes me out the door. Commitment also makes me put in the effort to problem solve and decide $9.99/month at Planet Fitness during the summer months is actually worth it if I’ve already been good about running for a few months before hand.

I am not a morning person. Desire for financial stability started this blog, but commitment is what gets me up early to write a post or work on boring backend stuff before work starts regularly.

You know what else money can’t buy me?

What’s an example of something you bought but had to put a ton of effort into making the purchase actually useful?