Architecture teaches you to see the city differently. You don’t just walk through streets—you study them. You notice lines, shadows, the way light bounces off glass. You understand structure not just as a physical form, but as a story.
I used to think running had nothing to do with that.
I was wrong.
When I joined Tempohaus, I expected a workout. What I found was a practice. A ritual. A way of interacting with the urban space that was entirely new. With every run, I started seeing the city not just as a backdrop, but as a living, breathing part of the experience.
The route through SoHo became my sketchbook. The East River paths, my blueprint. The repetition of familiar streets didn’t dull the experience—it deepened it. Like tracing a building over and over until you finally understand its soul.
Tempohaus taught me that ritual isn’t routine. It’s elevated repetition. It’s showing up again and again with intention. With presence.
Now, every Wednesday, I leave the office and trade my blueprint for a pair of sneakers. I meet the group in the fading light, surrounded by people who care about things that matter: movement, mindfulness, and meaning. We run in silence. We run in conversation. We run with purpose.
Tempohaus isn’t about logging miles. It’s about designing a life—with movement at its core.