I RAN ALONG the west side of Manhattan, listening to a man I just met tell me about his supplement stack. I’m certainly not a supplement person — I’m more likely to swap favorite routes on an outing like this — but I nodded along because that’s the polite thing to do when someone is potentially a romantic prospect. This wasn’t a date, exactly. I was at a singles shakeout run that was part of Hyrox’s New York event, a two-weekend fitness extravaganza that doubled as an opportunity to find a special someone who also wants to spend their time running around a concrete course filled with workout gear.
At least that’s how it was billed online. After run clubs were tabbed as the sweaty alternative to dating apps, social media crowned a new place to find a (very fit) significant other: Hyrox. Posts like “POV: You go to the Hyrox games to find a husband” and “Looking for my Hyrox wife” are going viral, showing montages of shirtless, sweaty men or women in matching workout sets in synchronized activity. Surf, the brand’s official dating app partner, launched a blind date program where athletes are paired for one of Hyrox’s mixed gender divisions and meet just 20 minutes before the start. Endearing clips of these pairings have circulated online — but in reality, few ever get this opportunity. Out of over 5,000 applicants for the NYC event, only 10 were selected.
Yet as alcohol consumption dropped, dating app fatigue hit, and people became increasingly wary of hitting on strangers in public, social fitness has become one of the few paths to an organic meet-cute. Hyrox seems particularly well-suited for social connection; unlike road racing, teamwork is built into the event itself with its doubles divisions, and you won’t get stuck in the back of the pack on runs that only go for one kilometer at a time.
I had an entry to the doubles division — unfortunately for this article’s purpose, partnered with one of my best friends — and I was curious to see just how suited the event was for potential daters. While I wasn’t necessarily trying to find my one and only, I did want to see how feasible it is for the average Hyroxer to meet someone out of the 41,000 participants (and even more spectators) that descended on New York’s Pier 76 for the race. So over the two weeks, I went to public Hyrox social events, ran the women’s doubles division, and went as a spectator to mingle with the crowd. Here’s how it went.
The Shakeout Run
I RUSHED OUT the door that Saturday morning to make it to Surf’s Hyrox singles shakeout run, grabbing a banana and a Bloom at the deli by the subway so I’d have enough energy to socialize. When I arrived at the Hudson River Pickleball courts a block from the Hyrox venue, I saw maybe 20 people standing around — not exactly the packed dating scene I imagined after the event’s page logged more than 100 RSVPs. I asked a girl nearby if I was in the right place, and she seemed hesitant to admit she was also there because of a dating app.
A small group — two guys and a girl — opened up their circle. Hyrox gave everyone a reason to talk: What day are you racing? Doubles or solo? Pro division? No, okay, is this your first Hyrox? People swapped tips about the NYC course and bonded over which stations they were dreading. (For me, wall balls.)
Once the run leaders gave a quick talk about safety, we were off. I spent the first mile with supplement guy, a soccer ref from New Jersey who had recently gotten into running. I also learned which fitness tracker he planned to wear on race day, since most can’t record a Hyrox-specific workout yet, he told me. After about a mile, I pulled off to tie my shoe while the group continued around a pier.
The rest of the run — and the coffee break afterward — I spent chatting with women, who made up a majority of the group. Two had traveled from Montana and had only downloaded the app that morning because it came with free coffee. There probably wouldn’t be anyone on the app in Montana yet anyway, they joked, though later the CEO stressed that you can filter matches by shared interests rather than location.
One New York-based runner told me she loves events like this and also goes to Lunge Run Club, where singles are instructed to wear black to signal availability. Whether people were looking for a partner or not, everyone seemed more open to talking, she said. And she was right. People bounced between groups and I ended up talking with almost everyone there, with none of the obvious cliquiness I’d encountered at some run clubs. I left without any romantic prospects but weirdly more convinced by the idea behind it: maybe the appeal of fitness dating isn’t that everyone finds a match. It’s that everyone already has a reason to talk.
