REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE STRANGERS?

Hi, it’s Maria,

If you didn't hear, we just announced our third BARE location in St. Pete, which means I've spent a lot of the last few weeks thinking about leases, construction,

equipment, timelines, hiring, training, marketing, and approximately 400 other things that come with opening a studio.

But somewhere in the middle of all of that, I had a thought that had absolutely nothing to do with any of those things. There are people I haven't met yet who are going to become part of BARE.

I don't know their names yet. I don't know who is going to walk through the doors on opening week, who is going to teach their first class with us, who is

going to become a regular, or who is going to meet one of their closest friends because they happened to take the same class every Tuesday.

They are all complete strangers to me right now.

And a year from now, some of them probably won't be.

I think that's one of the strangest and coolest things about opening a new location. When you're building it, everything exists on paper first. You look at

floor plans and renderings. You talk about where the front desk should go, what the lighting should look like, where people will put their things, and how the

room should flow. You make decisions about a space before anyone has actually lived in it.

But eventually, people do.

Someone will have a favorite X-Former. Someone will always take the same spot in a mat class. Someone will walk in knowing absolutely nobody and eventually

be the person everyone at the front desk knows by name. There will be inside jokes that don't exist yet, friendships that haven't started yet, and instructors

who haven't met the clients who will eventually request their classes every week.There will be people who walk into BARE on a completely ordinary day with no idea that it's about to become part of their routine.

I know that because I've already watched it happen.

When we opened Odessa, I knew we were opening a fitness studio.

I knew what I wanted the classes to feel like, what I wanted the space to look like, and the standard I wanted us to set. What I couldn't have planned was the people. I couldn't have put the friendships on a floor plan. I couldn't have predicted which clients would become part of the furniture in the best possible way, which instructors would become such an important part of BARE, or how many conversations would happen at the front desk long after class was technically over.

There are people I know now because BARE exists. People I probably never would've crossed paths with otherwise. And now, as Wesley Chapel gets ready to open and St. Pete starts becoming more

real, I keep thinking about the fact that we're about to do that all over again. Twice.

There are entire BARE communities that don't exist yet. That's pretty wild when I actually think about it.

Owning a business makes you spend a lot of time thinking about numbers. How many members. How many classes. How many people are on a waitlist. How

many locations. How much something costs. How long something will take.

And obviously those things matter. I would be a pretty terrible business owner if I said they didn't.

But numbers have never been the part of BARE that makes it feel real to me. People do.It's hearing someone at the desk ask another client how their vacation was because they remembered they were going. It's watching people walk into class

separately and leave talking about where they

're going to dinner. I

It's an instructor knowing exactly when someone needs a modification without making

a big deal about it. It's someone coming in having a terrible day and leaving laughing with people they didn't know six months ago.

Those are the things you can't manufacture.

You can create the conditions for them. You can build the lobby instead of treating it like wasted square footage. You can put someone at the front desk

who actually wants to know people. You can hire instructors who care about who is on the X-Former, not just what they're teaching. You can make it normal to stay for a few minutes instead of rushing everyone in and out.

But eventually, the people are what turn a studio into their place.

And now we get to watch that happen in Wesley Chapel and St. Pete. Of course I'm excited to see the studios finished. I'm excited about the design,

the classes, the openings, and watching another BARE sign go up somewhere new.

But I'm even more curious about who is going to be standing underneath it. There is someone in Wesley Chapel right now who is going to become one of our

regulars and has no idea yet. There is someone in St. Pete who will eventually teach at BARE who I haven't interviewed.

Someone is going to take their first

class because a friend drags them there and then somehow end up coming four times a week. Someone is going to walk through those doors feeling like the new person and, eventually, become one of the people who makes somebody else feel welcome.

And none of us know each other yet.

But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized this isn't really a blog about opening fitness studios. We tend to think about the future in terms of things. The house we'll live in. The job we'll have. The trip we'll take. The business we'll build. The place we'll move. Lately, I've been thinking about the people who are waiting in our future too.

There are people you haven't met yet who will eventually be in your group chat.

Someone you don't know exists might end up standing in your wedding.

There are people you'll spend holidays with, people whose kids will know your kids, people you'll call when something goes wrong, and people who will know

versions of you that don't even exist yet. That's kind of insane. Some of the people who matter most to me now were complete strangers to me a few years ago.

At one point, I didn't know their names. I didn't have their phone numbers. I didn't know what they ordered at dinner or what would make them laugh or that eventually I wouldn't be able to picture my life without them in it.

And then one completely ordinary thing put us in the same place. That's what I keep coming back to when I think about these new studios. Somewhere in Wesley Chapel and St. Pete are people who are strangers to me today and won't always be. But BARE is really just one example of something that's happening to all of us all the time.

We have no idea who is still coming. I think that's a pretty incredible thing to remember, especially during the parts of life that feel a little repetitive or settled. We tend to look at the people around us and assume, consciously or not, that this is more or less the cast.

These are my people. This is my life. Except it isn't finished. There are friendships you haven't started yet, people you haven't laughed with yet, and people you haven't met who will eventually change your life in ways you can't see coming.

And you probably won't recognize any of it as important when it starts. It'll be a new job. A class you almost canceled. A dinner you considered skipping.

A move. A friend bringing another friend. A random seat next to someone. A studio opening in your neighborhood.Until one day you realize that one completely ordinary decision introduced you

to someone you can't imagine your life without.

Maybe that's what I'm most excited about as BARE grows. Yes, we're opening more studios. But we're also creating more places for people to find each other.

I have no idea who is going to walk through those doors. But if Odessa has taught me anything, a lot can happen between “I've never met you” and “I can't imagine this place without you.”

And I think that's a pretty good reminder for all of us.

There are still people coming into your life who will make it funnier, fuller, easier, louder, better, or just different. People who will become so familiar that

it'll eventually feel strange to remember there was ever a time when you didn't know them.

They're out there living a completely separate life from yours right now.

You just haven't crossed paths yet.

From my core to yours,

Maria Stege

Founder & CEO, BARE Pilates Studio

…and that’s The Naked Truth