“How did your father and I meet? Well, we both went to a dating running club and our hands brushed as we reached for the electrolyte drinks at the end. He then followed me on Strava and we started giving each other kudos on our runs. Then we bumped into each other at the finish line for the Hackney Half, he offered me his foil cape, and the rest is history!”
Somebody somewhere will say these exact words in the next few years. Meet-cutes no longer happen at bars, parties and dinners. Many in my generation will first clap eyes on their soulmate doing lunges in their lycra, looking deceptively tall in their Hokas, and discussing favourite protein bars.
Singles’ running clubs are everywhere now. You can spot them from a mile away: the Lulu Lemon and Gymshark’d masses running a 5k at a “sociable pace”, as if there was such a thing. Tinder did a series last summer with drinks afterwards. On the tables they had cards laid out with “icebreakers” on them, encouraging people to play truth or dare with some helpful suggestions: “Truth: What’s your go-to running outfit? Dare: “Ask someone about their favourite running gear”. Get me to Dignitas.
Gen Z are swapping pints for pilates, according to a new report from UKActive. “Many of them are telling us they prefer going to the gym rather than more traditional venues for socialising such as the pub,” UKActive’s (unfortunately named) chief executive, Huw Edwards, told the Guardian.
It’s not just friendly socialising. David Minton, who is the founder of fitness analysis firm Leisure Database, added that Gen Z are also going to the gym “in order to meet a romantic partner,” because “the gym offers an in-person experience rather than a virtual experience.”
When I go to the gym (once a month, give or take) the last thing I want in the world is to be hit on. I suppose there’s an undertone of sex to the place, with the sweat, grunting and pheromones. But I’d like to do my seven minute “abs & ass” YouTube workout in peace, without some protein shake bro sidling up.
If other people want to get dates by going to the gym, more life to them. But the problem for the rest of us is that it creates a culture where it is acceptable to strike up conversation over the hip abductor machine, or worse, the sauna. I rue the day saunas became convivial. Everyone should be sitting in silence. Aside from the ambient hell of forced eavesdropping, they are vulnerable places. I do not want to be spoken to, less chatted up, when I’m sweating, light headed and in a swimsuit. Except maybe if the person is unbelievably handsome, which they never are.
All of this is a symptom of dating app fatigue. The endless swiping is dispiriting and young people are craving in-person interactions. As a result, everything from speed dating nights to poetry readings are growing in popularity. Pitching up to the pub and sitting there for hours is becoming a bit of a lost art. It seems people feel like they need to be doing something productive, killing two birds with one stone (Cultural enrichment and flirting! Chin ups and chat up lines!) rather than just vegetating over a pint. But to me, there is no greater joy than the intangible cultural heritage of shooting the breeze in a pub garden all day. Where could be a better place to find love?
That said, I don’t want the pub to be invaded with puce-faced runners, annoyingly garrulous from the dopamine hit of their sociably paced 5k, brandishing their drinks tokens for an Aperol spritz and comparing their splits. Pick a side.
Claudia Cockerell is a culture and lifestyle writer
