A couple of months later, I added a line to my Hinge bio designed to scout out runners: “Best way to ask me out: ask me on a running date.” This attracted quite a few first messages, although it was sometimes tricky to move the chat from “Okay, let’s do it!” to “Hold up, let’s message a bit first and see if we get on.”

But one guy – Paul – seemed promising, and we arranged to meet up in a nearby park. I decided to jog the 20 minutes there, but, late as ever, I had to increase my pace to a sprint so I wouldn’t keep him waiting, heightening my pre-date anxiety. Top tip: save yourself the extra hassle and walk, cycle or take public transport to your meeting point.

Paul and I switched between running and walking, giving us moments where we could turn and look at each other as we talked. The pace was casual, but he pushed my limits in other ways: we did a 100 metre sprinting competition (I lost drastically) and ran nine miles, finishing at my flat so we could both grab some water.

Paul left shortly after his rehydration pit stop and texted me later to say that he’d enjoyed our date, adding that it’d be nice to do it again in a friendship or business networking way (we both run our own businesses). This was the first time I’d been business-zoned, and I was only slightly sour that he’d got the rejection in before I had. But there were no hard feelings, especially as I’d run further with him than I had alone in weeks.

Running dates: “Why I’d rather go for a run than a drink on a first date”