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When I was 14, I met a handsome boy from another school at a neon-themed rave. He was athletic; tall and muscular, on the school’s rugby team. I was perpetually picked last to join every team. The asymmetry was perfect. I was obsessed.
A few weeks later, over text, he asked me whether I wanted to join him and a friend on a run. I’d never run for more than a few minutes in my life and exercise terrified me. But I said yes and it was (unsurprisingly) a disaster. After getting a cramp within a minute, I bent over panting, watching his chiseled legs bolt into the distance, blending into north London’s leafy streets.
Sports and sex are two things I’ve never conflated. But in 2024, it feels as though I’m in the minority. A new TikTok trend has taken the platform by storm: swarms of six-packed, sun-kissed content creators, sharing videos of their steamy group runs, argue that run clubs aren’t just the perfect way to get fit; they’re also the best way to hit it off with fellow hot (and sweaty) singles. Dating apps Tinder has even jumped on the bandwagon, launching its own running event called SoleMates. As dating apps scramble to maintain their user base, the run club frenzy is the latest indication that the way we date is changing. But is it true? Are run clubs really all that sexy?
One wet Thursday evening, I decided to find out. I took the Tube over to Technogym, a glitzy sports equipment store in Mayfair, opposite The Ritz, where a run club was taking place. (Full disclosure: I am now in a relationship, but my detective skills are still intact.) Stepping inside a bright room filled with mirrors, I glanced around at the shiny, Lululemon-clad adults, gracefully stretching against the walls. Dressed in brand-less yoga pants and a fraying neon green vest, I leaned on an expensive gym machine feeling distinctly short and scruffy.
Suppressing a pang of PE-changing-room-tinged anxiety, I geared up to put my hypothesis to the test. “It’s usually just a bit of flirty banter,” said Liz, a tall 23-year-old run club connoisseur, when I asked her whether she’s ever met anyone romantically at a club. “Everyone in the running community is just so welcoming,” she goes on, “I get really anxious just talking to people at the start, and then by the end [of a run] you can’t shut me up,” Beth, 29, chimed in, observing that while she hasn’t found a lover at a run club yet, the synchrony of moving while talking can help connections occur organically. “You’re not just focused on having a conversation,” she said. “You’re also doing something else—that takes the pressure off.”
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