It began not with a business plan, but with a run.
We met on a cold winter morning—no fanfare, no agenda, no finish line. Just a group of us gathering at the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge, pulled together by a shared instinct. An urge to move. To start. To reset. That morning, there were only three of us. We didn’t even know each other’s names. But we moved in sync, carried by something deeper than pace. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was survival.
That first run wasn’t fast. It wasn’t even particularly far. But something shifted. The bridge—usually a place of crossing—became a place of connection. By the time we reached the Manhattan side, we weren’t strangers anymore.
That was the seed of Tempohaus.
We never set out to build a run club in the traditional sense. We weren’t looking to track splits or chase medals. We wanted a rhythm. A community. A culture of movement rooted in something more meaningful than mileage.
SoHo gave us structure. Berlin gave us spirit. Together, they formed the foundation for something rare: a place where high standards coexist with openness. Where self-discipline meets creative freedom. Where people come not just to run, but to belong.
That bridge run taught us what we needed to know: it’s not about how fast you go—it’s about who you’re going with.