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IRAN 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, as they show 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 competitions 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 NYC, I’m told, 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 Forte 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 with 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, which 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 to me 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.
The Hyrox Venue
MY RACE WAS scheduled for early on a Sunday morning. I showed up to the Javits Center at 6:30 AM with my doubles partner to pick up my wristband and ankle chip band. Our Women’s Doubles race started at 8:20 AM, so the venue was nearly empty—and unfortunately for potential hetero daters, nearly everyone who did show up was a woman.
Racing didn’t leave much room for romance. I was focused on warming up, not scouting potential suitors. By the time we entered the starting corral, we were locked in on the competition, and while we moved through the stations, I barely noticed anyone in the crowds beyond my friends cheering me on. Unless you are actually competing with someone, there isn’t much time to interact with other athletes. By the time we finished, the spectator area had filled out a bit, but I was a mix of exhausted and exhilarated, with all my attention dedicated to my partner after we were so in sync on the course. We were hungry anyway, so we left for a diner nearby.
I came back the next week to watch friends compete. It was midday, and the venue was packed. Surf had a booth where singles could pick up a pink wristband signaling they were open to meeting people, though I didn’t notice anyone actually wearing one.
Because of the format of the race, I spent most of my time moving between stations—sled pull to burpees—timing everything so I wouldn’t miss my friends. At the farmer’s carry, I had a rare moment to stand still long enough to see them run past. A cute guy in another group of spectators gave me a compliment as he walked by, but didn’t stop to actually say hello. I saw him at the sandbag lunge station where he passed me again—and this time said he was in love with me. I laughed, but barely had time to process it before my friend came lunging down the lane. I pulled out my camera to film as I cheered her on. I needed to be there for my friend, not to chase down a guy. Maybe in a different setting, I would’ve made the effort to keep the conversation going.
The Afterparty
THE FINAL WEEKEND of Hyrox, Surf hosted an afterparty at The Standard Biergarten, a big outdoor bar near the race site. My friend owed me for bailing on the shakeout run the week before, so I convinced her and another girlfriend to come. We arrived about an hour late; the section reserved for the party was already packed with people wearing pink wristbands. I got the signature cocktail and scanned the room.
I shot off a quick text to my editor: “Not gonna meet the love of my life here,” with a blurry image of a sea of men in polos who looked, at most, 25 years old. This was not the army of brolic, mid-30s hybrid athletes I had seen on Instagram. My friend leaned in and said, “I feel like I’m at a Florida State frat party.”
People were slow to socialize at first until the drinks kicked in and the Knicks game picked up energy in the room. After the official afterparty ended, people stuck around, but largely stayed in the groups they came with.
I spotted the supplement guy I ran with at the shakeout run to exchange a polite hello, then excused myself quickly when the conversation stalled. I started mingling mostly with other women, using Hyrox as a conversation launch point yet again. I talked to three who had participated in Surf’s blind date program, and they had all shown up with their racing partners together. One of the couples had not gone well—the woman had been uninterested and standoffish the entire race, and they didn’t make it to this afterparty. Still, three out of five is a decent success rate.
But in the rest of the room, the men weren’t taking the initiative to strike up conversations with me—or most of the other unpaired women, either. I needed to be the one to break the ice. I asked a group of guys what they thought about Hyrox. “It was amazing. I fucked up—I almost cramped, but I did really well,” said one bro who was wearing a Miami Heat jersey (and, for no obvious reason, a paper Krispy Kreme chef hat). “And,” he smirked, “I’m a little tipsy.”
Another guy overheard us and shoved his friend forward. “He qualified for Worlds,” he said. The world’s qualifier had a scruffy beard, a glass of wine in hand, an accent. “I love Hyrox, but one thing I love more is the women who do Hyrox,” he said. “Sixty-two VO2 max. I don’t just do that for myself. Somebody else has to enjoy it too.”
After a few minutes, the guys were clearly more comfortable. Within this fitness-focused space, they felt fully comfortable peacocking their vitality—although it didn’t seem to be directly aimed at any of the romantic prospects in the room.
“If the Knicks win, I’m going to take my shirt off,” VO2max guy yelled. “Show off these Hyrox gains. Sub-60 pro!”
The Knicks won. Miami guy climbed onto a table, and VO2max guy screamed, “Let’s goooo,” and pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a six-pack. I didn’t stick around to see if they wound up working out with any of the women at the bar.
Is Hyrox the New Dating App?
AFTER TWO WEEKENDS of Hyrox, I was disappointed that I didn’t see more IRL connections forming like social media promised. Unless you’re going to show up to the race with a sign saying you’re single, Hyrox felt like more of an opportunity to watch eye-candy work out than to meet other athletes. Everybody is too busy chasing a goal time or trying to keep it together during burpee broad jumps.
But what might make Hyrox appealing as a dating ecosystem is not necessarily the race itself. My guess is that more meet-cutes will happen at the Hyrox gyms and events during training than on the course itself. That’s where you’ll see the people who have equal dedication to their health and fitness as you do, and have opportunities to actually develop a relationship—not unlike how putting hours in at the gym will help you master those brutal wall balls.
I didn’t leave Hyrox with a date, but then again, I’m not looking for someone who casually drops their VO2max in conversation. But I do now understand why Hyrox has become such a social phenomenon: At a time when social anxiety is spiking among young adults and people are tired of swiping on dating apps, suffering through the same workout is a natural icebreaker.
Hannah Singleton is a freelance journalist who writes about fitness, health, wellness, travel, and the environment. Her work has been in publications such as the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, GQ, Vox, Wired, National Geographic, Forbes, and Fast Company. You can follow her @hannahsingleton.