The email was three lines long and extremely dangerous.
A friend had found a pizzeria for sale in Red Hook. His idea was to turn it into a runner's bar and pizza place near the new track.
I forwarded it to Amanda and another friend with my version of the pitch: “Do we think my next profession is making pizza and serving booze to runners?”
Amanda replied, “Probably your calling.”
This was funny because it was plausible.
I had a full-time job at Wahoo. Apply was still moving. The inbox that week had product work, pricing questions, art files, and notes from the Park Slope Track Club board. There was no sensible reason to add a restaurant.
I said I was going to inquire.
This is a recurring problem for me. Somebody shows me a half-formed business that combines three or four things I like and my brain immediately starts operating it.
The idea was a mashup of Brooklyn, running clubs, real estate, pizza, booze, and finding reasons for people to be in the same room. I had never run a restaurant. That did not make it less interesting. It only made the list of questions longer.
What would it cost? How much work did the space need? Would runners actually make the trip to Red Hook? Could a bar built around a track community survive on the days when nobody had a workout?
Then the product questions started. Does it open early for long runs or late for drinks? Is it a normal pizzeria that runners love, or a running clubhouse that happens to sell pizza? Do people leave bags there? Is there coffee? Can a wet group come in after ten winter miles without ruining the place for everybody else?
This is how a silly idea becomes a real spreadsheet before anybody has agreed it should exist.
The community part was the hook. Running clubs create a weird kind of recurring neighborhood. You see the same people every week, usually while tired, sweaty, and unable to make small talk. The run ends and everybody needs somewhere to go. A good home base can matter almost as much as the route.
Pizza and beer are not a difficult post-run thesis.
Red Hook made the idea better and worse. It has character, space, and the new track nearby. It is also Red Hook. People do not accidentally wander there from the subway. The place would need a real reason to exist.
That was what made it interesting. Another generic sports bar would be useless. A place that felt built for the actual running community might work.
Or it might become an expensive room full of flour and optimism.
None of those questions were answered. It was still a forwarded listing and one very good sentence.
A few hours later, I was sitting on a plane in a black Wahooligan shirt, headed to Phoenix. I had registered for a free Fiesta 5K in Scottsdale the next morning. The pizzeria idea had arrived in the middle of holiday travel, family stuff, Wahoo, Apply, and another run.
That probably explains why it made sense to me.
I like work that mixes software and the physical world. Ecommerce is not only a website. A race is not only a route. A restaurant is definitely not only food. The interesting part is how all the pieces fit together and whether people want to come back.
The responsible answer was obvious. I did not need a pizzeria. I had enough work. Restaurants are famously easy and relaxing businesses, especially when you have no experience running one.
The less responsible answer was also obvious.
It could be great.
That answer has caused me some problems before.
Amanda had called it my calling. I had already decided to inquire. Somewhere between Brooklyn and Phoenix, making pizza and serving booze to runners briefly became a completely reasonable next profession.