The Athlete's Cafe Dream: From Espresso Fantasy to Reality

I can’t tell you why, or maybe this is just in my circle of friends, but the amount of people wanting to own a coffee shop or restaurant seems about as high as my sons classmates wanting to be firefighters or policemen. The fantasy is often the same: your own little space with good coffee, decent food, and customers who actually appreciate both. Whatever version of a cafe you saw on your travels with your own signature added. Easy money, right?

Five years ago, my wife Emma and I were deep in that fantasy. La Comuna was going to be our sanctuary in Girona—great coffee, Australian brunch, happy customers. The business plan was foolproof: serve good stuff, people pay money, profit. How hard could it be?

My role? Professional cheerleader and nodding expert. I was the guy who'd agree that yes, we absolutely needed that La Marzocco espresso machine and a tap that pours sparkling water at the pull of a lever.

Turns out, making coffee for yourself and making it for 100 increasingly impatient customers are completely different sports. Who knew that people would want their oat milk "extra hot but not too hot" or that you'd need permits just to serve a sandwich or put a chair onto the terrace you rent?

The learning curve was brutal. I once read that entrepreneurs sleep like babies—waking up every few hours crying. A bit exaggerated in our case but we certainly lost some sleep. Between permits, suppliers, and Excel sheets that multiplied overnight, we quickly realized we'd signed up for something closer to an endurance event than a lifestyle business.

Let me break down cafe math: pay rent that could get you a house with a pool elsewhere, then sell €3 coffees that cost €2.50 to make. Your profit margin is thinner than the froth on a poorly poured flat white.

The seasonal flow in Girona is another thing I never considered. Three months of chaos where you can barely breathe, followed by summer when it's too hot and everyone wants iced drinks to-go. Then autumn brings locals back from vacation with renewed energy, before winter reminds everyone that even Spain gets bad weather sometimes.

Having zero hospitality experience, of course does not help. We essentially got lucky with good people. Our staff could switch from explaining local routes to German tourists to knowing the locals orders without any words needing to be said. When life pulled us away after two years, our heart and soul of La Comuna, Irene, took over and turned our slightly delusional dream into a reality.

Last week, I worked my first-ever shift at La Comuna. Five years after being the moral support guy, I wanted to try the actual work. The idea of opening up my own shop to some relaxed music, seeing some old friends and getting to know people on their way finally came true. Though my latte art looked like abstract expressionism, laughs were shared and good times had.

I saw Jerry Seinfeld once explain that coffee is the only thing in the world that’s 100% on your side. I think I might agree and I was reminded with every cup I handed out, that it’s a drink that tells you every day- let’s go, you and me, we got this!

But here's the thing: the cafe works perfectly without me, which somehow made the original dream come true. Customers chat about weekend rides, argue about coffee beans, and share training tips. My foam art got politely laughed at, which felt like a win.

The romantic vision of cafe ownership rarely survives reality, but sometimes what emerges is better. La Comuna became exactly what we hoped—a place where people hang out over good coffee and talk about whatever's on their minds, usually bikes or runs.

The athlete's cafe dream for me isn’t really about ownership—it's about being part of something that fuels other people's days and a place to come home to from time to time.See you next week,

Jan.

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