Fed Up with Dating Apps, I Joined a Running Club to Find Love

I am not a runner. And yet somehow, on a recent rainy Saturday morning, I found myself literally chasing men around the marshy parkland in my East London neighborhood.

They were all much faster than me, and so I gave up.

I sat down on the first bench I stumbled upon and thought about what a great story it would be if a very lovely, witty, and attractive Londoner just so happened to be running very late that morning. Late enough that I was in the way of his path.

“You alright?” I imagined he would say. This is a standard British greeting and should not be confused with a genuine question, as it translates to a passing “Hello!” But as an American transplant, I would upcycle the acknowledgement of my existence into a kind concern about my wellbeing, and I would run with it—all the way to a nearby café, where we could have a cup of tea sheltered from the downpour. Never again would I be forced to even think about running in the rain, except for when we would laugh about this story at our wedding.

Alas, Prince Charming did not show. He and all his fellow could-be suitors were already two miles ahead of me by the time I dragged myself off my sodden log bench and back toward the trail. I sighed, disappointed in myself at this spectacular lack of stamina. Well, I figured, I guess this is why people go to run club every week.

I was at the Hackney Marshes Parkrun, a casual, weekly 5K that’s free to participate in and manages a leaderboard letting you know exactly how much slower you are than the other 300-plus members. I went not because I wanted to run, but because I was looking for dates.

Are Run Clubs the New Dating Apps?

Like many other singles, I have grown exasperated by the apps. According the the Pew Research Center, at least 30 percent of American adults have used dating apps at some point, and we are fairly evenly split between finding the experience to be a net positive or net negative. Just over half say the apps have been “very or somewhat positive.”

I would place myself in this more optimistic category—I have met many wonderful men on dating apps who have become close friends despite the romance not working out. However, the relationships that have spawned from these apps have gotten shorter and shorter as I’ve gotten older. Maybe we’re too old now to settle for clear incompatibility, preferring to be independent rather than mismatched. Or maybe we’re less willing to invest time into something that doesn’t feel like a hell yes from date one.

Either way, I’m in my early-thirties and have been largely single for the last five years. So, I figured, why not try some literal speed dating?

How hard is a 5K? I wondered. True, I’ve never completed one, at least not without stopping, and I’ve never even participated in a race. But I did run (“run”) a cumulative 13 miles in mid-January at an event called The Swimmer, which involved jogging to and then swimming (or, in my case, “swimming”) in four of London’s outdoor, unheated pools and ponds. Many successful couples have met each other at previous Swimmers, the founder told me at the time. They bonded over the sufferfest, and later married. That could be me! I thought.

I’m not the only one who’s looking for kismet the old-fashioned way. Scores of people around the world have turned to hobbies and run clubs to try to meet others with common interests, and many companies have popped up to serve those desires. At least one dating app, Thursday, is trying to make that easier by facilitating singles-only events in cities across the world, catering to a wide variety of interests.

Why Millennials and Gen Z Are Bringing Back Singles Events

In early July, one week before the Hackney Marshes Parkrun, I ventured to southwestern London for the Thursday Singles Run Club, a ticketed 5K jog. If you’re unfamiliar with Thursday, it has features similar to all the other apps you’ve tried, but it only works on Thursdays—Londoners’ date night of choice. But the real draw, for me and most other users, is the in-person, singles-only events the company hosts. I’ve been to at least six or seven at venues ranging from cocktail bars (too loud) to a ball pit nightclub (too young) to a climbing gym (just right). The Singles Run Club was a little too fast for my ultra-beginner skill level, which made it tricky to have meaningful conversations, but I still enjoyed it. I met at least a dozen participants before and afterwards, and they all seemed lovely.

Everyone I talked to said essentially the same thing: dating has gotten harder, the apps have gotten tired, and we want to try something new.

Matt McNeill Love, Thursday’s founder, told me he’s seen a massive shift toward in-person singles events as Thursday has grown. The company started in the U.K. and now runs events in major cities in the U.S., Canada, and Australia. They also host an annual singles ski trip to France.

There was definitely some awkwardness at the beginning of the Thursday singles run, as attendees divided themselves along gender lines (Thursday has put on some LGBTQ-focused events, but the one I attended attracted largely straight people). I think an ice breaker is warranted to get people chatting with members of the opposite sex. We’re human, after all, not reality TV stars on the Bachelor or Love Island—this stuff is hard, which is perhaps why nearly half of American adults are single these days. But people did mingle eventually, and the vibe was much lighter and friendlier once we all finished the 5K, high on endorphins. A few people I talked to seemed to be serious runners, but many were like me: curious about running, but more interested in dating.

Can Running Clubs Fix Modern Dating?

“Dating in this world is really hard right now,” Swetha Lin, a 29-year-old PhD student at Cambridge University, told me after the run. We grabbed drinks and hung out at a picnic table in the sun with a small group of other Thursday runners. I wanted to know what had possessed them to try to chase down a partner on one of the hottest days of summer so far. Many had traveled over an hour from other parts of London and even other cities. Catherine Mwandi, a 33-year-old living about an hour from Windsor, told me “getting a job is easier” than dating today.

“As you get older, your criteria changes,” Lin said. “Before, I wasn’t thinking about compatibility, I was just like, ‘Do I fancy him?’ Now, you actually think about whether they fit into your life, as well.”

Mwandi said she sometimes feels like she’s missed her shot. “Growing up, you don’t realize how hard it is to make connections with people,” she said.

Everything Mwandi and Lin said resonated with me. In my thirties, I’ve found it easier to meet people, but harder to meet the right person for whom I’m willing to reshape my life. I have lost track of how many meet-cutes have led to promising second and third dates, before reality sets in and one of us realizes this whole partnership thing is too much, too soon. It’s like we’re too wary to let dating be easy, to just meet someone organically and allow it to run its own course without tripping ourselves up along the way.

I have often criticized the dating scene in London for being full of people who skip out in the early days of relationships that are 90-percent amazing because they think someone who’s 100-percent perfect is waiting just around the corner. But of course, you have to want to be in it. You have to feel a drive to keep running alongside this other person, for curiosity to push you to chase them just a little further.

Especially if you meet them at a run club an hour away from your house.

So, how did it go? I left the Thursday singles run with a half-dozen new phone numbers, but I suppose you could say I cheated: I acquired these numbers under the guise of journalistic due diligence, so that I could text the link to this article once it gets published. I didn’t meet anyone I clicked with straightaway, and no one asked me out. I didn’t get any dates out of Parkrun, either, but I think we’ll blame that on the rain—the group was much too large to convene inside the café, and the weather was much too dismal to hang around outside to chat. Parkrun might be too speed-oriented to facilitate easy chit-chat while moving, but I’ve been investigating some other, smaller and more social run clubs in my neighborhood. I’m particularly interested in one that finishes at my favorite pub.

Even though I didn’t meet Prince Charming, there was nothing about either event that felt like a waste to me. I think Harry Ballard, a 24-year-old I talked to at the Thursday run, said it best: “If you do speed dating and you don’t meet anyone, it literally was a waste of your time,” he said. “If you do a run, at least you got a good run out of it.”